Harlequin Romance April 2015 Box Set

by Michelle Douglas, Jessica Gilmore, Jennifer Faye

  He didn’t say anything.

  ‘I’ve met beautiful people who’ve proved to be spiteful or selfish or snobs, and suddenly I find their allure loses most of its gloss. I have friends who may not fit society’s rigid ideal of beautiful, but they have such good hearts I think them the most beautiful people in the world.’

  ‘Jo, I—’

  ‘No! You listen to what I have to say! If you value yourself and others only through physical beauty then you deserve to suffer every torment imaginable at the thought of losing your so-called pretty face. But, as far as your face is concerned, I think it’s as pretty as it ever was.’

  He stilled. He stared at her for a long moment. ‘You really mean that?’

  She did.

  He dragged in a breath and then turned to lean against the railing, his left side towards her. ‘I’m sorry I insinuated...’ He glanced at her. ‘That you were shallow. I didn’t mean to.’ He paused. ‘I agree that a person’s attractiveness is more than how they look, but...’

  She tried not to focus on the languid line of his body. ‘But...?’

  ‘There’s no denying looks have an impact on how a person is perceived.’

  ‘If a person is repelled by your scars they’re not worth the time of day.’ She folded her arms. ‘You know, it could prove a useful filtering device.’

  He gave a bark of laughter. ‘You can’t say that.’

  ‘Don’t let anyone know you feel self-conscious about it, Mac. That’s my best advice. They’ll see it as a weakness, and there are people in the world who pounce on others’ weaknesses in an effort to build themselves up.’

  He turned to her more fully. ‘That sounds like the voice of experience.’

  She shrugged and tried to walk the walk she’d just talked. ‘Look at me.’ She gestured down at herself.

  ‘I’ve been doing my very best not to do that, Jo. I promised you gentlemanly behaviour, but when I look at you...’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Do be serious.’

  Mac moved to trap her against the veranda post and the side of the house. He planted one hand on the weatherboards by her head, the other on the railing near her waist. Her mouth dried. Her heart thudded so hard she found it impossible to catch her breath.

  ‘What on earth do you think you’re—?’

  ‘Shut up or I’ll kiss you.’

  She almost swallowed her tongue.

  ‘You have the nerve to give me a lecture about shallowness, beauty and an individual’s true worth, and then you want to carry on with you’re not attractive?’

  She opened her mouth. His eyes suddenly gleamed, fixing on her mouth with a hunger that had to be feigned! But she remembered his threat and snapped her mouth shut.

  ‘What a shame,’ he murmured, and in his eyes was a mixture of laughter and regret.

  She wanted to call him a liar, but she didn’t dare.

  ‘When I said you were a striking woman I meant that in every positive way there is. I meant that I find you attractive. I meant that it takes a Herculean effort on my part whenever I look at you to conceal my desire.’

  She choked.

  ‘And it’s not because I’ve been isolated for the last four months.’

  Again, she was tempted to call him a liar. She was tempted to say anything that would make him kiss her. Warmth threaded through her stomach at the thought, her thighs softened and her breasts grew heavy.

  But if he kissed her she wouldn’t be able to help it. She’d kiss him back and then he’d know how much she wanted him, how attractive she found him, and it would make her vulnerable. She swallowed. She didn’t want to be vulnerable around this man.

  ‘You seem to think you’re too tall for a woman...’

  He moved in closer, his heat swamping her, though he still didn’t touch her. He smelled of soap and freshly ironed cotton...and very faintly of dog. She really wished that last would put her off, but it didn’t.

  ‘I don’t think you’re too tall. I think you and I would fit perfectly.’

  They might not be touching, but this close to him she felt dwarfed.

  ‘I could stare into your eyes all day. They’re so clear, and the colour changes depending on your emotion. I find myself wanting to learn what each shade means.’

  That voice of his, its low intimate tone and the words he uttered, could weave a spell around a woman.

  He eased back a fraction and she managed to draw air into her lungs again. Until she realised what he was doing and the breath jammed in her throat again.

  ‘You have the most intriguingly womanly shape—all dips and curves.’

  He was staring at her body the same way she’d stared at his face a short while ago. Had he felt this exposed? For heaven’s sake, she was fully clothed, but Mac’s eyes were practically undressing her—as if he was imagining what she’d look like without said clothes—and his eyes started to gleam and he actually licked his lips. She swallowed a moan and sagged against the wall, her pulse racing, bustling, jumping.

  ‘Your body is lush and strong, and I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t aching to explore it. Thoroughly and intensely.’

  The words scraped out of him, a hoarse whisper, and Jo’s head fell back against the house as she struggled to draw air into her lungs.

  ‘But that’s just the outside packaging. The woman I’m getting to know is passionate, she gives no quarter, but she is remarkably generous.’

  His gaze burned fiercely down into hers. She couldn’t have uttered a word if her life had depended on it.

  ‘And all of that makes me ache that much more to make love with you.’

  How on earth had the morning descended to this? For years she’d worked among teams of men in remote locations in the Outback and she’d always managed to keep things on a professional footing.

  This was only her fifth day with Mac, and the air was charged with so much blatant sensuality it would melt anyone foolish enough to stumble into its path.

  ‘But I promised to be gentlemanly, so I won’t, but I’m sick to death of this ridiculous belief of yours that you’re not attractive. You’re a beautiful and very desirable woman.’

  It frightened her. He frightened her. Because she wanted to believe him. Yet in her heart she knew it was all lies.

  Mac eased away and she tossed her head. ‘I know my worth, Mac, make no mistake. I’m smart and strong and I’m a good friend. But let’s make one thing very clear. Boys like you do not kiss girls like me.’ Not unless it was for a bet or a dare, or they were trying to manipulate them in some way. ‘It’s a fact of life.’ A fact she had no intention of forgetting.

  He’d started to turn away, but now he turned back, a flare of anger darkening his face. And then a slow, satisfied gleam lit his eyes, his mouth, even his shoulders—though she couldn’t have explained how.

  ‘Perfect...’ he crooned.

  And then he moved in.

  She raised her hands. ‘Don’t you—’

  He claimed her lips swiftly, pushing her back against the house, taking his time exploring every inch of her mouth. She tried to turn her head to the side, but he followed her, his hands cupping her face. He crowded her completely, pressing every inch of his rock-hard self against her. His chest flattened her breasts—breasts that strained to get closer. He thrust a leg between her thighs, pressing against her most sensitive spot in the most irresistible way. It made her gasp. With a purr of satisfaction his tongue plundered her mouth.

  Stop! Stop! Stop!

  But he didn’t stop kissing her, savouring her, pressing against her, making her feel desired, making her feel beautiful, and with a moan scraping from the back of her throat she curled her hands into the soft cotton of his sweater and kissed him back. She wanted to know him, taste him. She wanted to savour him in the same way he sa
voured her. Her hands explored his shoulders and dived into the thickness of his hair. But she wanted more—so much more.

  One of his arms went around her waist—he spanned it effortlessly—and hauled her closer as if she weighed nothing. It sent shivers of delight spiralling through her. Their kisses went from tasting and savouring to a deepening hunger. Held in his arms like this, dwarfed by his height and breadth, Jo felt almost dainty, utterly feminine and beautiful.

  When his hand slid beneath her shirt to cup her breast his moan made her shake. He was moaning for her. He wanted her!

  His thumb flicked across her nipple through the nylon of her bra. Desire spiked from her nipple to the core deep at the centre of her. She shifted against him, restless for more, seeking relief...seeking release and—

  If they kept this up there was only one way it would end. She stilled. So did he. He didn’t remove his hand from her breast and his heat branded her, tormented her. She didn’t remove her arms from around his neck.

  They both breathed hard, as if they’d run a race.

  ‘I beg to differ.’

  She blinked up at him blankly.

  ‘Guys like me most certainly do kiss women like you. And what’s more, Jo, they enjoy every moment of it.’

  One kiss couldn’t erase a lifetime of taunts, a lifetime of feeling she’d never measured up. A lifetime of never feeling beautiful.

  She swallowed. Mac had kissed her as if he found her beautiful, but she still wasn’t convinced he wasn’t playing some deeper game. She removed her arms from around his neck. With the wall of his house behind her, she had nowhere to move to.

  ‘Let me go, Mac.’

  He did immediately.

  Regardless of any of his reasons for kissing her, regardless of how much her body clamoured otherwise, this couldn’t go any further.

  ‘I’ve known you for five days.’ Not even five full days. ‘I don’t jump into bed with men I’ve known for such a short time.’ Was that his style?

  He moved down to the next veranda post, leaving a whole span of veranda railing between them. ‘I’m forty years old, Jo. The days when I thought one-night stands and flings were fun are long behind me.’

  She’d never thought one-night stands or flings fun. Sharing her body with a man had always been a fraught experience and not one she’d ever raced into.

  And yet today she’d almost...

  She bent at the waist to lean her forearms along the railing, unconsciously mimicking Mac’s posture.

  ‘That kiss became a whole lot more a whole lot quicker than I meant it to,’ he said.

  She winced at the apology, glanced at him from the corner of her eye and found him staring stolidly out to sea. She grimaced, shuffled, and finally gave in, huffing out a breath. ‘Yeah, well, it takes two to tango. It was just as much my fault as yours.’

  He straightened and surveyed her. She tried not to picture what he must see—a clumsy giant of a woman. She remained in what she desperately hoped was a nonchalant, casual pose—a pose that proclaimed a kiss like that hadn’t rocked her world. That kisses like that happened to her all the time and she was used to them.

  Ha! If kisses like that happened to her all the time she’d be...

  A very satisfied woman.

  You mean a nervous wreck.

  ‘I don’t want to give you the wrong signals, Jo.’

  She turned her head to stare at him. Oh, right. Here it comes. Inside, she started to shrivel.

  ‘I’m not in the market for a fling. At twenty I thought such things could be uncomplicated, but I don’t believe that any more. And I’m not in the market for a relationship. My life is already too complicated. A relationship would be one complication too many.’ He swallowed and shuffled his feet. ‘I...uh...hope you’re okay with that.’

  Men really were the most arrogant creatures. She straightened. ‘Well, it might surprise you to hear that I’m not in the market for a relationship either—and I can’t possibly imagine what gave you the idea that I was.’

  He glared. ‘You decided you had room in your life for a dog. It seems only logical a boyfriend would be next.’

  Her jaw dropped. She hauled it back into place. She opened her mouth, then with a shake of her head snapped it shut. She moved to the door instead. ‘I’m sure there’s cleaning I should be doing.’

  ‘So, we’re okay?’ Mac asked as she reached the door.

  She folded her arms and turned. ‘I don’t know what we you’re referring to, but I can tell you one thing—if I were in the market for a boyfriend, Mac, it wouldn’t be with a man like you.’

  His eyes practically bugged from his head. All his life he’d probably had women falling over themselves for him. She had no intention of being one of them.

  ‘This—’ she gestured to the view and their surroundings ‘—is beyond beautiful. It’s glorious. But you don’t even seem to notice it, let alone appreciate it. You hide from life.’ She’d had enough of hiding. ‘Life’s too short. I mean to live my life to the full and I’m not giving that up for any man.’

  Not even for one as pretty as Mac.

  ‘Then what the hell are you doing out here?’

  ‘I’m having a breather—but I’m not hiding.’ She flung out an arm. ‘I relish that view every single moment I can. I’m learning to cook fancy French food. I’m adopting homeless dogs and driving fast cars. I suspect I’ve lived more in the last three days than you have in the last three months.’

  He gaped at her.

  There didn’t seem to be much more to say so she whirled into the house and didn’t stop until she came to the kitchen. And then she didn’t know what to do. She’d already cleaned it after making that reduction.

  She put the jars of honey and peanut butter that still stood on the table back into the pantry. She slammed her hands to her hips. She’d left the plate of sandwiches on the veranda, along with their glasses. She didn’t feel like going back out there and facing him yet.

  She could spout off all she liked about how she didn’t want a relationship and she didn’t do flings, but one look at the broad span of his shoulders and her blood surged, her thighs weakened and her resolve threatened to dissolve.

  Almost against her will she tiptoed back down the hallway to the front door. She peered out through the screen door, but Mac was nowhere to be seen. With a sigh of relief she retrieved the dishes, spying Mac and Bandit halfway across the field leading down to the sand dunes and beach.

  He moved with an unconscious grace and—

  Argh! She stomped back into the house and then jumped when the hall phone—an ancient contraption—rang.

  Russ, no doubt. She set the dishes on the floor and picked up the receiver. ‘Hello?’

  A quick intake of breath greeted her. ‘Who are you?’

  Jo blinked. Not Russ, then, but an angry female. It hadn’t occurred to her but, despite Mac’s protestations, was there some woman waiting for him in the wings? Some woman he was dangling until—?

  She shook her head. She might only have known him for a few days but that seemed seriously unlikely.

  She cleared her throat. ‘May I ask who’s speaking, please?’

  ‘This is Mrs Devlin.’

  Jo rested back against the wall, her stomach twisting.

  ‘You may have heard of my son, Ethan Devlin?’

  The apprentice burned in the accident.

  Jo closed her eyes. ‘Yes, of course. I’m terribly sorry about what happened to your son, Mrs Devlin.’

  ‘Put that low-life swine Mac on the phone.’

  Mrs Devlin’s bitterness threatened to burn a hole right through the receiver. Jo managed to swallow. ‘I’m sorry, but he’s not available at the moment. Can I take a message?’

  ‘What do you mean, he’s not there? He
should be working! And who the hell are you, my girl? His fancy woman?’

  Wow. Just...wow! ‘My name is Jo Anderson and I’m Mac’s housekeeper—not his girlfriend. I don’t appreciate the insinuation and nor do I deserve your rudeness.’

  The sudden silence almost deafened her. ‘He doesn’t deserve the luxury of a housekeeper,’ Mrs Devlin said, though her voice had lost the worst of its edge. ‘He doesn’t deserve a moment of peace.’

  Jo dragged a hand through her hair. If Mac had been bearing the brunt of this woman’s bitterness then no wonder he’d been driving himself so hard. She saw it then, in that moment—Mac was punishing himself. He refused to notice the glorious views, he refused to engage in physical activity he found pleasurable, he shut himself off from the things he loved, like his car, his brother...his cooking.

  Oh, Mac.

  ‘He needs to send more money. Tell him that. Where is he anyway?’

  ‘He’s out walking the dog.’ Not that it was any of her business.

  ‘He has a dog?’ Outrage laced her words.

  ‘It’s my dog. And, Mrs Devlin?’ she said, before the other woman hung up. ‘I... Look, Mac is working so hard he’s in danger of becoming ill.’

  ‘He should suffer!’ the other woman yelled down the line. ‘He should suffer the way he’s made other people suffer!’

  Such venom. She understood Mrs Devlin’s fear and concern for her son. She understood her fighting for the very best care he could get. But to blame Mac like this? It was wrong. So wrong.

  To say as much would be pointless. Mrs Devlin didn’t want to listen to reason. Not yet. But what if she was to become afraid that the cash cow might dry up?

  Jo hauled in a breath, wishing her stomach would stop churning. ‘If Mac does become ill, Mrs Devlin, the money for Ethan’s care will dry up.’

  ‘How dare you—?’

  ‘All I’m doing is stating facts. You want Mac to suffer—that much is clear—but if he does get sick he won’t be able to earn money.’ Certainly not the kind of money they were talking about here. ‘My job is to make sure he eats three square meals a day and gets out into the fresh air for some exercise. Basically, I just nag him. I doubt he enjoys it.’