Talking Sense: Sensual Healing, Book 3

by Serenity Woods

  Her hair smelled of lavender and orange blossom. He enjoyed the smell as he held her, wishing he could tilt her face up to his and kiss her, and take away some of those lines of pain around her eyes. He gave her a squeeze. “You all right, little Clio?”

  She stiffened in his arms. Slowly, she drew back and looked up at him. Her eyes were wide with shock. “What did you call me?”

  He blinked. “Clio. She’s the Greek muse of history. There’s an illustration of her in the Year Ten Guide to Ancient Greece that looks just like you.” Alarm filtered through him at the strange look on her face. “Sorry, did I say something wrong?”

  “No. No.” She scratched her nose. “Kind of. No.” She looked completely dumbfounded. “Did I know that? I didn’t know that. Did I?”

  “Are you all right? Do you want to sit down?”

  “Have you called me that before?”

  He was sure he hadn’t—he’d only seen the illustration a few days ago. “Um, I don’t think so. Is there a problem?”

  She cleared her throat. “No, it’s okay.” She drew back and rubbed her nose. “Thank you for the hug.”

  “Anytime. Nobody should be unhappy on their birthday.”

  She tucked her hair behind her ear and picked up her laptop. “Until tonight, then?”

  “Yeah. See you just before six.”

  She opened her mouth as if to say something else, and once again a light flush stained her cheeks. What was she thinking? Was she going to tell him? But she gave a little shake of her head and turned away.

  He watched her walk off, trying not to stare at her tight butt. He could still feel her pressed against him, like a bed where the owner had arisen and left an imprint behind in the crumpled duvet. The scent of her lingered in his nostrils, and the taste of chocolate frosting in his mouth reminded him of how soft her lips had been, pressed against his.

  So much for remaining distant. And now he had to go concentrate, first on the Russian Revolution for an hour, and then on the ancient Egyptians and the process of mummification. He sighed as he walked off. If anything was guaranteed to bring him back to earth, that would probably do it.

  Chapter Four

  Mia didn’t tell Grace about the Clio thing. Later in the day Grace caught up with her and asked what happened with Colm when she left, and Mia told her he’d asked her out for the evening. But she didn’t mention that he’d called her a name she’d dreamed about the night before.

  Why, she wasn’t sure. Mainly because Grace would call it “a sign” and make more of it than it was, and use it as an excuse to try to get her to date, and she didn’t want the hassle. But she also kept it to herself because something inside her had come to life when he murmured the name in her ear. Something quiet and private that she didn’t want to share with anyone else. She’d connected with him in an invisible, chemical way that had sent a tingle down her spine— unrelated to pain for once. It didn’t mean anything. But the sheer coincidence of it made the hairs rise on the back of her neck.

  Of course, it could have been something to do with the fact that he’d kissed her as well. And given her a hug. If she was honest with herself, she knew he found her attractive. It was obvious in the way he looked at her, and all the classic signs of attraction were there—touching her “accidentally”, brushing her arm or her hand as they spoke, leaning toward her when he smiled, and she was pretty sure she’d caught him looking down her blouse when she bent forward one day. Although that could probably be said of any heterosexual male.

  Bearing in mind what Grace had said on the field as they watched him play rugby, she’d studied him after he kissed her, her fingers touching her lips absently as she’d watched the way a dimple appeared in his cheek when he laughed, and how kind his eyes were. When he’d hugged her, she’d breathed in his lemony aftershave and the hairs had risen all over her body as he brushed her back with gentle fingers. Her cheek had rested against firm muscle, and she’d been unable to stop thinking about how her heart had pounded when he’d pressed her lips to hers. He was so quiet and unassuming she’d overlooked how gorgeous he was.

  But that was where it ended. Even if he was attracted to her, she wasn’t going to get involved. He wasn’t her usual type at all, and she wasn’t going to get embroiled in a quick fling no matter how long it had been since she’d had sex. The old Mia would have jumped on him double quick time without a thought of how it was going to pan out. The new Mia was more circumspect.

  Still, she couldn’t see the harm in going to the museum with him. That was hardly going to end in an all-night orgy, and it was her birthday after all—she deserved some sort of treat. She loved museums and the thought of seeing the ancient Celtic manuscripts had genuinely given her a thrill, even though she knew most people would have nodded off at the mere thought of them.

  In the end, the day couldn’t pass quickly enough, and she went home and ate her dinner with more eagerness than she’d experienced in a long time. Then she had to decide what to wear. What was suitable for an “appointment” at a museum on one’s birthday? She didn’t want to look as if she’d taken hours on her appearance as she would if she were going on a date. Equally she wanted to look slightly different from how she looked at work, although she couldn’t put her finger on why.

  She changed outfits several times, but eventually settled on jeans with a pretty blouse the same colour as her eyes, and a casual black jacket she knew emphasised her slimmer-than-usual figure.

  He knocked on the door at exactly five fifty p.m., and she knew she’d worn the right thing when a smile spread over his face as she opened the door.

  “Hiya,” he said. “You look nice.”

  “Thanks,” she said breezily, trying to quell the wave of pleasure that washed over her at his words. “So do you.”

  It was true—for once he’d forgone his cords and, like her, wore jeans, which made him look ten years younger, and a tight All Blacks rugby shirt under his jacket that clung to eye-poppingly defined muscles. Where had they come from?

  “No cords tonight?” she asked, beckoning him in as she went to look for her purse.

  He followed her in and looked down at his pants. “You don’t like the jeans?”

  She glanced over her shoulder wryly. “The jeans look great. Just commenting that you look different out of the Goodbye, Mr. Chips gear.”

  “Good different or bad different?”

  “Just…different.” She went to elaborate but stopped at the look on his face. “What?”

  His gaze roamed slowly over the contents of the room. He looked vaguely alarmed. “Good Lord. I’d heard Wellington Library had been raided but I never suspected you were the culprit.”

  She followed his gaze, seeing the room with new eyes. Books lined the shelves and were piled up on the coffee table. Further stacks stood beside the couch and spilled onto lines along the carpet. “I ran out of space in the bedroom,” she said defensively as she collected her purse from the kitchen counter. “And once Grace and Freya moved out, the books kind of spilled out into here. Grace bought me an iPad for my birthday in the vain hope that I’d transfer everything to digital.”

  “You like to read.” He smiled.

  “A bit.” She eyed him suspiciously. “I’ve amused you. Why?”

  “Just the conundrum that is Mia Nicholls. I never know what I’m going to learn about you.”

  She tucked the purse under her arm and frowned as she walked up to him. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “Not at all.” He still seemed amused.

  She was wearing a pair of Converses instead of her usual heels, and suddenly he seemed a lot taller than she was. And why had she not noticed before how broad his shoulders were?

  What the hell was happening? She was sure a week or so ago he’d been a weedy nerd and yet now she realised how much he looked like Chris Hemsworth with glasses. He’d have made a great Thor. She sat next to him most days in the staff room, but here, in the peace and quiet of her living room, even standing
two feet away from her, he seemed to be invading her space.

  She glanced up and met his blue eyes. The look in them made her shiver. “Don’t even think about it,” she warned him before she could think better of it.

  One eyebrow rose. “Think about what?”

  “Kissing me again.”

  The smile spread, curving his lips into a sexy smirk. “I wasn’t.”

  “You were. I could tell.”

  “Okay, I was thinking about it. I wouldn’t have done it, though.”

  She cursed herself as disappointment swept through her. “Good. Because once was, you know, pleasant and all that, but twice would be…” She searched for the right word.

  “Fun?” he suggested. “Blissful?”

  She smiled. He was incorrigible. “I was going to say ‘overenthusiastic’.”

  He laughed at that and cupped her face. “Don’t worry, Farrow. I won’t kiss you again unless you want me to.”

  A zing of electricity shot through her. His hand was warm on her skin and his eyes sparkled. When was the last time a man had touched her like this?

  He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “You must know I find you very attractive,” he said, his husky voice with its soft Irish lilt giving her goose bumps. “But you deserve better than a quick fling. I won’t make a move on you, Mia, don’t worry. But we can still have fun this evening, eh?”

  “Sure.” Her mouth had gone dry. More than anything she wanted him to keep his hand there, but he lowered it slowly as if he was reluctant to stop touching her.

  “Okay.” He smiled. “Come on, then. There are some fascinating manuscripts that I’m sure will prove just as exciting as kissing you.” The wry twist to his lips told her he was thinking exactly the opposite.

  She followed him out of the house, heart pounding. There was no need for panic though, was there? He’d said I won’t kiss you again unless you want me to. And she didn’t want him to, so that was fine, everything was hunky-dory.

  Except she did want him to, more than anything, and as she slid into the car next to him, it took all her self-restraint not to groan out loud at the thought of having to spend the whole evening with him and not ask him to press his lips to hers again.

  Chapter Five

  Colm drove to the museum trying to do his very best to speak in sentences, when inside his head the words kiss her, kiss her rattled around until he had to tighten his hands on the steering wheel to force himself not to reach across and pull her to him.

  Why had he said that about finding her attractive? Clearly he’d embarrassed her because she’d turned an attractive shade of fuchsia and had made it perfectly obvious that she wasn’t interested.

  Still, no harm done, really. He was pretty certain she’d known he liked her, and it was probably best to get it all out in the open, anyway. This way they could have a nice evening, maybe flirt a little, and know nothing was going to come out of it because they’d laid all their cards on the table to begin with.

  Yeah, right. He was going to have to spend the evening tearing his eyes away and trying not to ogle her in the beautiful green blouse that was the exact same shade as her lovely eyes.

  Sighing, he parked in the car park outside the museum and got out of the car quickly so he could walk around to help her out.

  She looked up at him with amusement as he opened the car door and held out a hand. “I’m not an invalid, Baloney.”

  “I’m being gentlemanly,” he explained, although he’d seen the way she winced when she’d lowered herself into the car seat and he’d known she was in pain.

  “I didn’t know you knew the meaning of the word.”

  “Ha ha.” He knew she was teasing him. She’d commented several times on the way he held doors open for her and had once offered her his chair in the staff room when she was late to arrive and there weren’t any seats left.

  She slid her hand into his and he tightened his fingers as he pulled her to her feet. She bumped against him, and he put his hand on her hip to steady her.

  “Okay?” He made sure she’d got her balance.

  “Yes, thanks.” Once again she flushed fuchsia. He let her go, amused and puzzled at her embarrassment. He hadn’t seen her blush once in the nine months he’d known her—in fact he hadn’t thought her capable of embarrassment. From the karaoke incident to the time she walked out of the ladies’ with her skirt tucked in her panties, she’d only ever laughed when placed in situations like that and hadn’t seemed bothered at all.

  He locked the car and they walked around the building to the side entrance where David had told him to go. He’d texted David earlier in the day asking if it was okay to bring Mia with him, and David had replied with Chick intrstd in history? np LOL!

  As they turned the corner, he saw David sitting on the bench in front of the building, catching the rays of the late sun. David stood as they approached, and his gaze ran down Mia before flicking over to Colm, amused.

  “Hiya,” Colm said, giving him a warning glare. “David, this is Mia—she works with me at the high school. Mia, this is David.”

  “Hi,” Mia said, and they shook hands.

  “Mia teaches history too,” Colm said.

  “Cool.” David beckoned them toward the building. “It’s great to see someone else interested in the subject. Most people’s eyes glaze over whenever I start talking about ancient manuscripts.”

  “It’s my birthday,” Mia said. “That shows you how keen I am.”

  David laughed. “Going to a museum on your birthday! A girl after my own heart.” He smiled at her.

  Colm felt a stab of jealousy. Which was ridiculous because David was happily married to Annabel, with baby Bella, and there was no way he’d ever look at another woman.

  Mine! he wanted to yell. But of course she wasn’t, and so he held his tongue as David chatted to Mia while they entered the building and headed for the back rooms to the museum.

  “How long have you two known each other?” Mia asked as they wound their way through the maze of corridors.

  “We went to university together.” David spoke over his shoulder as they walked. “My father’s Irish and I grew up there, but after I finished university they moved out here so my mum could look after her parents, and I decided to go with them.”

  “Good job he did or he wouldn’t have met his wife,” Colm said.

  David grinned at him, obviously well aware he was pointing out to Mia that he was married.

  They reached the door to the museum proper and David walked through. Colm held it open for Mia. “After you.”

  “Thanks.” She had to pass close to him to slip into the room. She glanced up at him as she did so, and he caught his breath as their gazes met. Although he didn’t particularly like skinny women, having lost weight suited her, and he could see how her jeans hung on her hips. Without her heels, she was quite a bit shorter than he was. If he wanted to kiss her, he’d have to bend his head to lower his lips to hers…

  She dropped her gaze and moved past him, and he cleared his throat and let the door swing shut behind him. Jeez. He had to stop thinking about kissing her for five minutes.

  Concentrate on the manuscripts, he told himself. For fuck’s sake.

  David led them through to the room where the manuscripts were going to be displayed. The room wasn’t yet open to the public, but the books had been placed in special glass cabinets ready for viewing.

  “I’m guessing they’re kept in special conditions,” Mia commented.

  “Yes.” David led the way over to a large, glass-topped table. “Manuscripts are vulnerable to things like heat, insects, water, fungus, dust and fire. And people, obviously, which is why they have to be locked away. We treat them with insecticides and clean them using special solvents. Sometimes we oil the leaves to make them flexible, and then they’re polished with a soft, dry cloth.”

  “This one’s from Lindisfarne,” Colm told her, recognising the distinct lettering. “You know about Holy Island, right?”
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  “That’s the island off Northumbria in England, isn’t it?” Mia bent over the cabinet to examine the manuscript. “Where the Vikings invaded. Jeez, to think they nearly destroyed these. How terrible—they are so amazing.”

  “Hmm.” The manuscripts were breathtaking—but Colm couldn’t take his eyes off the woman in front of him. With the soft lighting casting shadows on her cheeks from her eyelashes, her cheeks a faint pink and her lips a deep rose, Mia was probably the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  David tipped his head at him, and Colm caught him smirking. As Mia turned away to look at another book, David mimed taking her in his arms and kissing her. Colm gave him the finger and followed her over.

  “Tell me about these,” she said. “They look different from the Lindisfarne ones.”

  “They’re from a slightly later period, from Dublin. You can see the gold leaf in the margins there…” Ignoring David, Colm leaned beside her and told her what he could remember about the illustrated books.

  He gradually relaxed once he realised she was genuinely enjoying herself and appeared to love the manuscripts as much as he did. David left him to give her a tour of the whole collection, and they spent a pleasant hour talking about preservation techniques and the ideal atmospheric conditions to house ancient artefacts.

  “Wow,” he said as the hour drew to a close. “You’re almost as nerdy as I am.”

  “Almost.” She smiled as David reappeared with an armful of books about the manuscripts that she’d asked to borrow. “Thank you so much for the opportunity to see these. I really appreciate it.”

  “You’re very welcome, and it was great to meet you.”

  Colm shook hands with him and took the books for her. “Thanks, mate.”

  “No worries.” David winked at him.

  Colm and Mia left by the side door. Outside, the sun was sinking gradually below the horizon and Lambton Quay was flooded with pink and orange.