He’d shooed Mr. Peebles away from her injured ankle, and wondered if he should wake her, but she was smiling a little. He’d crept from the room, leaving her to what was obviously a pleasant dream.
This time, he stayed.
He watched her sleep, noting the way her breasts rose and fell with each breath. He’d have to wake her soon, but was reluctant to do so. She seemed to be resting comfortably.
He shivered a little. Damn, she kept her house cool. Must be one of those leftover British things. She certainly had plenty of them.
He smiled as he looked around him. A couple of photos stood on her dresser, featuring an older couple holding vegetables. Her parents, he guessed. A small fuzzy toy sat next to the photos, and charmed Max. Who’d have thought the ever-so-proper Ms. Matthews would like cuddly toys?
Then again, he remembered how she’d felt, snuggled into his arms. Oh yeah. No matter what image she presented to the world, she was a cuddler, all right. He crossed to the window and briefly pulled the heavy drapes apart, gazing out on the winter wonderland that was Mayfield after a hefty snowstorm.
The moon had risen, and the temperatures had dropped significantly. The weather reports called for record low temperatures, given that it was early March. Everything was crisp and white and glistening, and Max allowed himself a rare moment to appreciate it.
He wondered at the paths his thoughts were taking. It was as if he’d stepped into Peta’s house and left the “other” Max Wolfe on the doorstep. The one that wanted to fuck everything that moved, and then head out of town to new and challenging conquests.
Somehow, it had become less about fucking and more about—something else.
He glanced at the sleeping woman. Yeah. More about her.
A dark shape was curled up comfortably at the bottom of the bed. Mr. Peebles certainly knew how to find the perfect spot for his evening nap. Once Max had let the fire die down and closed the glass doors on it, Mr. Peebles had given him a look of disgust and disappeared.
Apparently, he’d found the soft comforter. And to add insult to injury he was snoring. The very least he could have done was come to Max’s room and warm his feet. He’d saved the damned cat’s life, for God’s sake. That was feline gratitude for you.
Peta stirred, and moaned slightly.
Max was at her side in an instant. The nightlight reflected a glimmer from her eyes as she struggled to open them.
“What...wha...”
“Hush, Peta. It’s time to check you out for a minute. Look at me, babe.”
He sat next to her and slid his arm around her shoulders, lifting her off the pillow and pulling her to his chest.
“Max?” Her tone was curious, not concerned.
“Yes, sweetheart. I’m here. Open your eyes, Peta.”
“Oh yeah, the pupil thing...” She smothered a yawn and stretched, wincing a little as she moved her legs.
He carefully peered into her eyes and heaved a sigh of relief. They looked just fine to him. All sleepy and gray and quite delightful. He wondered how they’d look when she orgasmed.
His cock stirred at the thought, and he wished for a second he had a good solid flannel robe instead of his shorts and a t-shirt. But he’d never worn a robe or pajamas and wasn’t about to start now. No matter how cold this damn house was.
“Looks fine, honey,” he said. “Time for more pills I think. You in much pain?”
She sighed and let him lower her back to her pillow. “Yeah, some. It’s sort of throbbing, you know?”
He reached for the water and the pills he’d set next to the bed on an earlier visit. “Here we go...easy now.” Once again, he lifted her as she swallowed the pills.
“Thanks Max,” she said. “Sorry to be such a nuisance.”
“You’re not a nuisance. He’s a nuisance.” He glanced at Mr. Peebles who had decided to investigate the goings-on that had disrupted his nap.
She smiled sleepily. “No he’s not. He keeps my feet warm. And he knows better than to sleep on my sore ankle. Don’t you, sweetie?”
Mr. Peebles accepted the endearment and the caress as his due.
Max shivered. He couldn’t help it. He wanted her hands stroking him like that.
“You’re cold. Silly thing. Wandering around half naked.” Her voice was slurred, but tender. He rather liked it.
“I’ll warm up. Don’t worry about me.”
“But I do. Don’t know why. You’re so annoying.”
“I am?”
“Yes,” sighed Peta. “Why don’t you get under the puff and warm up? Can’t have you getting sick. I need you.”
She froze. Did she realize what she was saying? Had she been reading his mind? Staring at his cock? What?
Hell. Why was he even hesitating?
Putting the glass carefully back on the bedside table, Max slid beneath the comforter. He assumed that was what she meant by getting under the “puff”. Unless she had something else in mind.
“Oh that’s nice,” she breathed.
Without a trace of hesitation, she snuggled herself into his arms and yawned again. “What about work, Max?”
Too involved in processing the incredible feel of Ms Peta Matthews as she snuggled her flannel-cow-covered body against his, it took him a moment to realize that she’d asked him a question.
“It’s all taken care of. Don’t worry about a thing. Sandra is going to open the office tomorrow, your laptop is all set up, and we’ve brought the files we need over here. Just relax, honey. Go to sleep now, okay?”
“Yes. All right.”
She nuzzled her head onto his shoulder, and apparently found the perfect spot. Her breasts pushed against him and she slid one thigh over his.
With a little sigh, she closed her eyes. “You’re not cold anymore, are you?” she chuckled.
“Er, no. No, I’m not.”
“Good. I’m glad. I heard you were a cold man, Max. But it was a lie. You’re hot.”
Now how was he supposed to answer that? Yes, I’m hot enough to melt a good portion of the Arctic ice cap? I’ll get even hotter if you let me take this damn flannel top of yours off and suck on those delightful breasts that are squished up against me?
“The pain is going away.”
Damn. He couldn’t do any of the twenty-four things he wanted to do. The woman was recovering from an accident, for chrissake. He’d be a louse to try anything. He wasn’t that much of a louse. Not at this moment, anyway.
Sadly, his cock wasn’t listening. It knew what it wantedit wanted to be buried in a hot, wet place that was tucked between Peta’s thighs. It didn’t matter that it was hidden beneath a field of black and white cows.
Max gritted his teeth and permitted himself the luxury of running his hand gently up and down her spine.
“Mmm, lovely,” she murmured.
“Isn’t it,” sighed Max. His cock throbbed.
Sometimes, being a gentleman was a real killer.
*~*~*~*
Peta opened her eyes to the muted sunshine that struggled through the thick drapes on her windows. Something rather rough was licking her face.
A pair of slanted amber eyes, inches from hers, stared at her as Mr. Peebles continued his self-assigned task of washing her face.
She giggled. “Cut that out.”
“Wasn’t doin’ anythin’.”
The mumble from the pillow next to her shocked her rigid. She blinked and realized that a heavy arm was resting across her breasts and her legs were lying quite comfortably over a pair of hard thighs.
Dear God. She was in bed with Max Wolfe.
She shivered. It was her dream come to life. Impossible, utterly and completely improbable, but real.
She hurriedly checked her pajamas. They were buttoned up tight, and everything was where it was supposed to be.
Well, bugger it. What had she expected? To be seduced by a man known for his sexual conquests and whose dates resembled fashion models or playboy playmates?
Here she was,
hips and all, covered in cows. The ideal outfit for a seduction - not.
Max moved next to her, stretching and brushing her breasts with his arm as he did so.
She tried to suppress a little shiver, but it was no good. The object of her fantasies was finally where she’d wanted him, in her bed, and he was draped all over her and around her like he belonged there.
She knew she had to move, or some of those damned cows were going to find themselves in a rather soggy field in a very few minutes.
Gingerly she eased away from his heat.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She turned her head and met the full blast of those incredibly hot hazel eyes. They were more green than gold this morning, and they were wide open, pinning her to the mattress.
“Um...I’m getting up?”
Max sighed. “How’s the ankle?”
He didn’t seem inclined to move, so she stayed where she was. Hell, she didn’t want to move either, but pretty soon she was going to say bedamned to her ankle and jump his body. His very warm body. Which seemed to be wearing a light T-shirt. She wondered what lay beneath the covers. And oh dear God, did she ever want to find out.
“It’s fine, thank you.” Her polite answer drew a raised eyebrow in response. He said nothing, just waited.
“Oh all right. My leg’s stiff, the ankle still throbs although I think the swelling’s gone down, and generally I feel like someone who drove her car off a bridge and into the river. Happy now?”
She knew she was snapping at him. But the combination of a sleepy and rumpled Max Wolfe along with her own thinly suppressed inclinations was driving her bonkers. “I have to get to work.”
Both eyebrows rose at that statement, and he yawned and stretched.
She looked away. Some things were too much, even for her.
“No going to work for you today, Peta. Don’t you remember? I told you last night. It’s all been taken care of, and your laptop’s set up to handle the light editing stuff.”
She frowned. “Last night?”
“Yeah,” grinned Max. “Last night. When you so generously offered to share your warmth with me.”
A blush rose to her cheeks. “I did?”
“Well of course you did. I don’t usually creep into an injured woman’s bed uninvited, you know. What do you think I am?”
She wasn’t about to answer that question. Nor was she going to pay any attention to the large lump that had appeared in her comforter, right around the area of his crotch.
She swallowed. “Well, that was—um—very gentlemanly of you, I’m sure. However, I’m quite ready to get up now.”
“Yeah, me too.”
She bit her lip and pulled away, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and turning her back on Max and his—his assets.
She heard his sigh and felt the bed move as he tossed the covers back and got out the other side. “You want to use the bathroom?”
She closed her eyes and prayed for strength. “Max.” His name was supposed to come out like a firm exclamation, not a yearning plea.
She cleared her throat and tried again. “Max, thank you. Your attentions have been most...most thorough. But I think I can manage. I know I can manage. You may leave now.”
He ignored her. “Here. I found this last night.”
She turned her attention away from her toes and found he was holding out a cane.
“It was in a huge packing crate full of junk in your back hallway.”
She chuckled. “Phoebe’s been at it again. That woman loves flea markets like...like some people like designer shoe sales. She’s always grabbing stuff, and then dumping it here. We go through it together and she picks what she thinks is fun and I get the privilege of disposing of the rest of it.”
“Well, this time, she may have found something useful, although I doubt she realized it at the time. Let’s see.” He put his arm around her, and she shivered a little, hoping he wouldn’t notice that two cows in particular had developed bug eyes. The ones that covered her nipples.
Gently he raised her to her feet and she put her weight on the cane. It held, and she looked up with a quick grin.
Okay. That probably wasn’t the smartest thing she could have done.
Max was looking at her with a mixture of amusement and heat, and he damn near took her breath away.
His muscles showed through the thin shirt he was wearing, and his boxer shorts did nothing to hide that fine piece of equipment that had doubled as a tent pole beneath her covers.
Dropping her eyes, Peta blushed. “Uh...good. That’s good. I can manage from here.” Bloody hell. If he didn’t get out of her room she was going to embarrass herself even more than she had already.
“You sure?”
“Yes. Go away.” It was more of a moan than an order, but he seemed to take the hint.
“Okay. I’m going to grab a quick shower, and then fix us some breakfast. No doing anything but freshening up, lady. Be a good girl and you’ll get a bath later. I have to check that ankle first. So dining will be informal this morning. Cows are welcome. I’ll come get you when you’re ready.”
He flashed her a quick grin and left her, leaning on her cane.
Peta sighed. It so wasn’t fair. She was ready now. She couldn’t get more ready. Oh bollocks.
Chapter Seven
“I don’t care how long you stare at me, you’re not getting bacon for breakfast. Yours is there.” Max nodded at the dish containing perfectly acceptable cat food.
Mr. Peebles gazed at him in that particularly eloquent way that cats have developed over eons of dealing with humans. The way that said “You expect me to eat that shit when you’re cooking something that smells so much better?”
Max had become accustomed to it and did the only thing possible under the circumstances. He ignored it.
Sliding bagel halves into the toaster oven, he stepped over Mr. Peebles and grabbed the cream cheese from the fridge. It would have surprised his many bed partners if they could have seen this efficiently domestic side of him.
Hell, he was surprising himself. But apparently, he was quite able to function around a kitchen—in fact he was rather enjoying it. The small table was laid with plates and mugs, the coffee was almost ready and the crisp bacon seconds away from perfection.
All he needed was Peta.
And that was the understatement of the year.
Waking up next to her and seeing her all soft and warm, wrapped in her jammies, had done quite awful things to his libido. And since when did his libido respond to flannel? He’d never gotten a hard-on from cows before. He shook his head at himself, stepped over Mr. Peebles again, and retrieved the bagels.
Breakfast was ready. Time to get the lady downstairs.
“Stay away from the bacon, you hear?”
Mr. Peebles did the feline equivalent of “Yeah? Make me” by twitching his whiskers. Max narrowed his eyes and placed a plate upside down over the forbidden treat. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Mr. Peebles, it was just that he...oh well, yeah, he didn’t trust Mr. Peebles.
Satisfied that breakfast was safe for a few moments, he hurried up the stairs and tapped on Peta’s door. “Breakfast is served, Madam. Your ride’s here.”
A smothered chuckle followed his words. “Come on in.”
She was sitting on the side of the bed, face scrubbed clean, hair pulled into a fairly neat bunch behind her head and wearing the most god-awful robe he’d ever seen.
She looked beautiful.
He blinked. There must be something seriously wrong with him. No lace, no slinky lingerie, no makeup, not a hint of skin revealed, and she was still turning him on. He sighed.
“Let’s go. I don’t trust the cat to be in the same room with bacon for more than two seconds.” He lifted her easily from the mattress as she grabbed the cane.
“You know I could probably do this myself,” she protested.
“Sure. And I’d have to pick you up at the bottom of the stai
rs, call Phoebe for her car, and drive you back to the hospital. No thanks. We’re doing this my way for a while.”
Cautiously they made their way downstairs, and he noted with satisfaction that Peta’s eyes widened as he lowered her into the kitchen chair.
“Max. Really. This is too much...” She stared wide-eyed at the breakfast that awaited them. “Bagels? Cream cheese? And all this other stuff?” She sniffed at the bacon and closed her eyes. “Good Lord, I hope that’s low fat cream cheese and pretend bacon.”
Her stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly.
He smirked. “Nope. It’s the real McCoy. And don’t even think about stupid things like calories. You didn’t eat yesterday, you’ve got a belly full of medications, and the last thing you need to worry about is dieting.”
She shrugged, but reached for a bagel anyway. “Oh yes. Right. So speaks a man who probably has a metabolism faster than a freight train.” She spread the cream cheese on the bagel and took a bite. “Mmmm. Oh God. Heaven.”
He helped himself to coffee and uncovered the bacon. Mr. Peebles moved over to sit next to his chair.
“Forget it, fella. I told you where your breakfast is.”
Peta reached for a couple of pieces of bacon. “I can’t remember the last time I had an honest-to-God, sit-down-at-the-table type breakfast. Not since I left home, anyway.”
Mr. Peebles crossed to sit next to her chair.
“When was that?” asked Max, around a mouthful of bagel.
“A while ago. Mum and Dad decided to head south, and I was busy here, so it seemed natural. Time to be my own person, as it were. Get out and stand on my own two feet.”
“And did you?” The fragrance of the coffee swirled up his nose as he watched Peta busily making a large dent in her breakfast.
“Yes indeed. I found this place, got an excellent deal on it, and I’ve been here ever since.”
He ignored the hand containing a small sliver of bacon that slipped under the table. He could, however, see Mr. Peebles’s tail twitching in appreciation. He sighed.
“It is a nice house.” He also ignored the sound of Mr. Peebles’s sharp teeth demolishing the forbidden snack.
My Hero Page 5
