Shirley let out one of those big, booming chuckles. ‘You’re a cheeky thing. I like that in a man.’ She shuffled in her seat, seeming to adjust her ample chest. ‘If I didn’t like our Maggie so much, I’d give her a run for her money.’
‘Noted.’ It was his turn with the exaggerated whisper. ‘And if I didn’t like our Maggie so much, I’d chase after you.’
While Shirley cackled, calling over to Pauline to check she’d heard what he said, Seb screwed up his courage and glanced at Maggie. He wasn’t sure whether to be worried or relieved when he saw her bite into her lip, clearly desperately trying not to laugh again. Was she amused at the banter, or the thought of him wanting to ask her out?
‘Now then.’ Shirley drained the bottom of her glass. ‘Why don’t you go and get us ladies another drink, and then tell me and Pauline about this dance competition you’re organising. We might want to enter.’
As Maggie walked back to Seb’s car – he was holding her hand again, and she liked it – she tried to remember how many glasses of wine she’d had.
One before Shirley and Pauline had arrived. Two with them? Maybe three?
She stopped abruptly, causing him to bump into her. ‘Whoa, what’s wrong?’
‘Please tell me I didn’t have four glasses of wine tonight.’
Seb screwed his face up, and wow, yes, he still looked cute. ‘I think, maybe, yes?’
‘Oh boy, I’m really going to feel that tomorrow morning.’
He opened the passenger door for her and smiled. ‘You know the drill, doc. A pint of water before you go to bed, and a couple of paracetamol.’
She did know the drill, just as she also knew she shouldn’t be finding everything about him so acutely sexy right now. Had he always smelt so divine? And was he always this warm, his eyes such deep pools of aquamarine?
Or was it the drink? Damn it, it had been a long time since she’d been so tipsy.
‘Three is my limit,’ she told him as he slipped into the driver’s seat.
He gave her an amused glance. ‘When did you set yourself that?’
‘My wedding day.’ Her brain might be sleepy, and finding Seb worryingly attractive, but she could still remember the moment all too clearly. ‘It was after the meal and the speeches, when everyone starts to chill. We had this really cool band and Paul didn’t want to dance, no change there, so I started to go round the room asking some of the men. Paul took me aside and told me not to drink any more, I’d clearly had enough.’
Seb was silent for a moment as he manoeuvred the car out of the car park. ‘I hope you told him where to go.’
‘No.’ Her head felt heavy and she leant back against the seat. She’d been mortified that she’d embarrassed him. ‘He was looking out for me.’
Seb grunted. ‘You can remember it, Mags. Even after your wild four glasses of wine tonight, you can recall that happening on your wedding day, so you were hardly three sheets to the wind.’ He gave her a sidelong glance, his expression pensive. ‘Presumably these guys were your friends or they wouldn’t have been at your wedding. What was wrong with asking them to dance? You were having fun.’
She wished her head was clearer, so she could point out the obvious flaw in his argument. And there had to be one, because why else had she decided to limit herself to three glasses from then on?
She must have nodded off, because the next thing she knew, the car had come to a stop, her door was open and Seb was on his haunches, looking up at her. ‘Time to wake up, sleepy head. You’re home.’
Blinking her eyes open, Maggie stared at his tanned, ridiculously attractive, face. ‘When are you going to… what did Shirley say?’ She tried to drag her slumbering mind back to the conversation in the pub. ‘Pull your finger out and ask me out?’
He laughed softly, reaching across her to undo her seat belt. ‘Do you want me to?’
Crinkles formed around his eyes, and his mouth was tantalisingly close to hers. I want you to kiss me. Every cell in her body cried out for that, but was it just the drink? The wine had loosened her tongue, no doubt. Made her feel mellow and happy and yes, sexy. When she woke up tomorrow though, would she die of embarrassment when she remembered this conversation? ‘Maybe ask me when I’ve not had four glasses of wine.’
He stilled, his expression turning more intense, his eyes seeming to reach inside her. ‘I’ll do that.’
‘Good.’ Or was it? She wasn’t sure what she’d just invited. Only that when she thought of him asking her properly, of being the recipient of that intense blue gaze when she wasn’t the worse for alcohol, her stomach executed a neat series of flips.
‘Are you okay to walk?’ He took hold of her arm, helping her out of the car, and when she tripped, the cold air a shock to her system, her legs not as steady as she’d thought, he smiled. ‘I’ll take that as a not sure. Here.’ Effortlessly, he lifted her into his arms. ‘Let me sweep you off your feet.’
Arms around his neck, she laughed. ‘How many times have you used that line?’
He shook his head, sliding her carefully back to her feet as they reached the front door. ‘Never. Now where’s your key?’
She opened her bag, finding them immediately because she always clipped them on a chain. It meant she knew where they were. Even after four glasses of wine. ‘Thank you, for tonight I mean,’ she said as she handed them over. ‘I had a really good time.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yes.’ She stared into his twinkling blue eyes. ‘Pauline and Shirley were hilarious.’ As he pulled a wounded expression, she laughed for the umpteenth time that night. ‘And you were quite funny, too.’
Seb deftly unlocked the door, the dancing bear key ring – a present from her daughters last Christmas – looking ridiculous, yet also weirdly adorable, in his large, manly hands. Instead of opening it though, he looked down at her, his gaze seeming to fall on every inch of her face.
‘What is it?’
His eyes dropped to her mouth. ‘I want to kiss you.’
Yes, please. The words stuck in her throat. Apparently she wasn’t so tipsy she could throw away all her careful, cautious habits. ‘What’s stopping you?’
He let out a low laugh, rubbing at the stubble on his jaw. ‘My dad.’ He must have seen her silent question, because he continued. ‘He always told me to treat women right, to respect them. I don’t think he’d be too impressed if I took advantage of your currently squiffy state.’
‘How drunk is squiffy? Because I’m not that inebriated.’ Or was she? Would she really be flirting with him like this if she wasn’t? ‘I’m mellow,’ she decided.
She felt the warmth of his breath against her ear as he whispered, ‘Mellow enough to let me kiss you?’
A shiver ran through her, and she knew it had nothing to do with the cold December evening because inside she felt like a furnace. ‘Yes.’
His eyes searched hers, as if checking she really was sure. Then he cupped her face in those big, warm hands. Tingles shot through her as he pressed his mouth to hers, and her bones seemed to melt as his tongue eased her lips open, deepening the kiss. And wow, the heat, the taste – Pepsi, with a hint of mint – the feel of him surrounding her. She shifted closer, seeking more contact, everything she thought she knew about kissing flying out of the window. This felt more, so much more than she could remember. More pleasure, more connection.
With a groan he dropped his hands to her hips, drawing her tightly against him. He was hard, deliciously, impressively hard against her stomach. Oh God, had kissing always felt this hot? Desperate for more, more friction, more heat, she shifted closer. She wanted to crawl up him, press herself against every male inch of him. Wanted his hands under her blouse, those calloused palms rubbing against her breasts.
He let out another groan, hoarser than the last, but this time he stepped back, his breathing ragged, his chest heaving in tandem with hers.
‘Christ.’ He ran a hand across his face. ‘I knew there’d be sparks. I didn’t reckon on the explodin
g fireworks.’
She laughed, feeling giddy. ‘I thought I heard a fizz.’
‘And a crack. And a bloody great bang.’ His face sobered, the heat still in his eyes. ‘I’m warning you, Mags, now I’ve had a taste, I want more.’
Her heart raced as he bent towards her again, his mouth hovering close to hers. Just one more kiss, she willed him. A little longer, a little deeper. Maybe he read her thoughts, because his breath hitched, and those pleasure-giving lips inched towards hers again.
‘Oh, sorry.’ Seb’s head jerked back as Hannah came into view. ‘I heard the key in the door, but then you didn’t come in, so I was worried something was wrong.’
Hannah glanced from Seb, to Maggie, and Maggie wondered what she saw. Did she look like she’d been thoroughly kissed? And that she was silently begging Seb to kiss her again? Damn it, this was why she shouldn’t drink. It loosened her control. ‘Nothing.’ She had to cough to clear the husk from her voice. ‘Nothing is wrong. Seb was just seeing me to the door because I’m a little,’ she nodded at Seb, ‘what did you call it?’
He let out a deep sigh. ‘Squiffy.’
‘Yes, that’s it. I’m a bit squiffy.’
‘Okay.’ Hannah looked like she wasn’t sure what to say. ‘Sounds like the class bonding session went well then.’
Seb’s eyebrows rose and Maggie experienced a mild panic. ‘You could say that,’ she said hurriedly before he could blurt out the obvious ‘What class bonding session?’ ‘I mean Seb was driving, so he probably didn’t enjoy it that much, but I… well, it was fun.’ The mellow feeling from the alcohol, the heat from the kiss, it was all fast disappearing. Now she felt confused, cold and desperate to escape the tension Hannah’s presence had created. Turning to Seb, she gave him a brief, awkward hug. ‘Thanks for seeing me home.’
‘Of course.’ But gone were the twinkly eyes and the flirty smile. ‘Night, you two.’
With a curt nod he strode off down the drive, leaving Maggie with the distinct impression she’d disappointed him. No, more than that, she’d hurt him.
‘So, are the pair of you, you know? An item?’ Hannah asked as Maggie carefully – she had to concentrate, her brain wasn’t functioning as it should – shrugged out of her coat and hung it up.
‘No, God no.’ That sounded wrong. Like she was horrified by the prospect, when really it was the other way round. She was scared of what Hannah would think, how horrified she might be to find Maggie had kissed the man she knew Hannah still had a crush on. A man for whom Hannah was surely far more of a match.
‘Well, I think that’s what he wants, because from where I was standing it looked like he was about to kiss you.’
‘I’m sure you’re imagining that.’ She didn’t want to lie to her friend, but nor did she want to talk about this. Not while she didn’t have a handle on it herself. And not while her tongue might run away with her and say things Maggie wanted to keep private.
Like she wished he’d kissed her again. A real tangling of tongues, with wandering hands and skin on skin.
And she very much feared she’d still wish that had happened tomorrow morning.
Chapter Sixteen
He’d been busy, working long shifts and trying to squeeze in visits to his parents. That’s why he’d got to ten o’clock on Friday evening and still hadn’t phoned Maggie. It wasn’t because he was a coward.
Seb parked the Fiesta up outside Sarah’s house and shivered as he jumped out into the dark December evening. Bloody climate.
He couldn’t blame the weather for the cold feeling he had on the inside though, the knotted stomach, the slight queasiness. That was all on him. Yesterday morning had been different. Then he’d woken up drowning in the same sensation he’d fallen asleep to. The heat of Maggie’s lips on his, the soft feel of her body as it had writhed – yes, there had definitely been some writhing – against him as they’d kissed on her doorstep.
But then he’d had a text message from Sarah.
Just spoken to Maggie and she says her head feels like it’s been taken over by aliens. What did you do to her last night? S x
Instantly the joy he’d woken with had flooded out of him, leaving him with a bucket-load of angst. She’d told him she’d had too much to drink, he knew she had – she’d never have flirted with him sober – yet he’d gone and kissed her anyway. He couldn’t regret it – life was for living, for doing what made you happy, and kissing her had made him ecstatic. But his dad’s words had floated back into his head, and he’d been left wondering if this was another example of him failing to live up to the man’s high standards. And never mind his dad, what was Maggie going to think of him now? Was she dreading seeing him again? Embarrassed at what they’d done?
Those were the worries that had dragged through his mind yesterday, and had only magnified since. Usually he’d talk things like this through with his sisters – they’d always been his sounding board for advice on the female mind. Yet how could he do that, when they weren’t supposed to know? At least he assumed that’s how Maggie wanted it, as she’d clearly lied to Hannah about their drinks last night.
And yes, maybe now he was getting to the real route of this gut-churning unease. Maggie had clearly been too embarrassed to tell her friends she was going for a drink with him. There was no other explanation for why Hannah had called it a class bonding session, and for why his sisters hadn’t bombarded him with questions over it.
‘Is that you?’ Sarah’s voice called out from the kitchen as he opened the door.
‘No. It’s Kermit the Frog.’
‘Excellent. I’m sure he’ll be a better house guest than the morose guy I’ve got staying with me at the moment.’
Seb grimaced as he threw his jacket onto the bannister. He really had to get better at hiding his feelings. ‘I’m not morose,’ he told her as he wandered into the kitchen.
‘No? Then why haven’t I seen you smile these last two days?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Does it have anything to do with Wednesday night?’
He could feel heat creep up his neck. ‘There’s nothing wrong, other than working too much.’ Turning away from her he went to open the fridge, dragging out a bottle of juice he didn’t want to drink, which gave him an excuse to look somewhere other than at her. ‘Thanks to this blasted competition, I’ve had two long shifts at the centre, and I’ve another tomorrow.’
‘Umm. So you’re definitely not feeling guilty about Maggie.’
Involuntarily his head snapped up. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean letting her drink too much.’
Shit, of course that was what she’d meant. Seb rubbed the back of his neck, trying to release some of the tension, but knowing Sarah’s eyes were watching him like a hawk wasn’t helping.
‘Is there anything else you’re feeling guilty about?’
He took a few deep breaths and slopped the orange juice into a glass. ‘I’m not feeling guilty about anything. Maggie’s a grown woman. Nobody forced her to drink.’ He finally managed to look Sarah in the eye. ‘Maybe she needed to drop her guard for once and just let go and enjoy herself.’
Sarah’s expression softened. ‘Maybe you’re right. And I guess if anyone is going to teach her how to relax and have fun it’s the King of Chill himself.’
‘She doesn’t need teaching. Just the chance to turn her brain off now and then.’ He caught Sarah’s sharp glance, and wished he’d shut his bloody mouth, because now he could see the cogs in her brain whirling.
‘Maybe you’re right.’ Because she was his sister, he knew not to relax when she agreed with him, unlike the poor suckers she probably did business with. ‘You seem to know her pretty well.’
It was a trap, but he didn’t know how to get out of it. ‘Not really.’ Sarah stared at him, making it clear that wasn’t a sufficient answer. Taking a gulp of the juice he didn’t want, he gave a non-committal shrug of the shoulders. ‘When we dance, we talk. And she’s been giving me a lift home.’
‘Until you unexpe
ctedly bought yourself a car.’
Okay, that was it. He didn’t have sufficient interrogation training for this sort of conversation. ‘It’s been great chatting, but I need to get to bed. Some of us have to work tomorrow.’
‘You mean you won’t be watching the Strictly final, after all these hours you’ve put into it?’ Sarah cocked an eyebrow at him.
He kept his face carefully schooled. ‘We’re not all lucky enough to get weekends off. Sweet dreams, sis.’
He darted off before she could ask anything further. Like had he deliberately volunteered for the Saturday evening shift, because he didn’t know how to handle seeing Maggie again? Of course Sarah’s line of questioning would have been more devious, but knowing his sister she’d have got there in the end.
And the answer, which he was keeping locked in a vault in his mind, was yes, he had. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Maggie – he desperately did – but not with the eyes of his sisters watching his every move.
The next time he saw Maggie, he needed it to be just the two of them. Though whether she’d want that,was another matter.
It wasn’t just Strictly Saturday. It was Strictly Final Saturday. Yet even as Maggie dashed about the house with a vacuum cleaner, a duster and a bottle of bleach (not all at the same time), even as she straightened the wonky-looking Christmas tree that Tabby and Penny had lovingly decorated, she couldn’t help but realise she felt a little… flat.
She couldn’t blame the hangover. Thursday had been long and hellish, but by Friday morning she’d been back to being able to move her head without needing pain killers.
She couldn’t blame the conversation with Paul this morning, either. He’d been perfectly civil when he’d phoned to arrange to pick the girls up and take them out for lunch tomorrow.
There was only one other explanation for how she felt, and it didn’t sit easily with her. It was day three since she’d shared a kiss with Seb – no, not just a kiss, a hot, mind-spinning, all-consuming few minutes of utter pleasure. Despite that though, he’d not contacted her. Or was he expecting her to phone him? And she didn’t mind that, she really didn’t, there was no reason she shouldn’t be the one to make the first move.
Strictly Come Dating (The Kathryn Freeman Romcom Collection, Book 3) Page 14
