'Sounds good. Are you on your way to your clinic?'
He nodded. 'Yes. You're there as well, aren't you? Have the police finished with Mike Taylor, or is he still out of action? If so, I might have to do without you for the clinic.'
'He's back,' she told him. 'So you get the pleasure of my company.'
'Wonderful. We should be able to get through them at a sensible speed, then. Have you had lunch?'
She nodded. 'Well, a bit of birthday cake on the children's ward. It'll do me. I'm going to go and bed-shuffle. Can Tim Jacobs go home? He's looking fine now.'
'If he's careful. I'd like to see him in a week.'
'OK. I'll go and discharge him and free up his bed, and then I'll see you in the clinic.'
'OK.'
She smiled at him with that wonderful too-wide mouth, and he felt desire hit him again in his midsection. He was going to have a hell of a job keeping his hands off her tonight!
Annie walked back to the ward, all too conscious of the little foil packets in her pocket next to the first three months' supply of the Pill. She could start taking it today, and would need additional protective cover for the next seven days, so she'd been told.
If necessary.
Her heart thumped against her ribs, and she swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry with anticipation.
Would it be necessary tonight? Max was certainly turning up the heat, and her ability to resist him was so slight as to be not worth mentioning. The chances seemed quite high.
And knowing this, she had to get through the afternoon clinic with him!
Max laid the table in the dining-room, overlooking the back garden, and as it was a lovely evening he thought they could open the French windows while they ate. He hadn't opened them yet, though, because he didn't want the neighbourhood cats marauding about all over the table.
As he left the room, he gave it one last critical glance. The glasses were polished, the silverware was gleaming, and the roses were ones he'd pinched from the front garden of what would be his new house. They were beautiful, a dark, rich red, and the scent was phenomenal. He'd put candles on the table, but he wouldn't light them until Annie had arrived.
The dining-room would do, but he was less certain about the meal. He'd kept it deliberately simple, with salmon steaks marinated in lime and coriander, minted new potatoes and a selection of baby vegetables— sweetcorn, asparagus tips and mange-tout.
He hadn't been able to get Hollandaise sauce at the deli, so he'd bought a lime and sliced it to squeeze over the salmon. Pudding was a bought chocolate gateau, with lashings of cream, and he'd piled fresh raspberries on top to liven it up a bit.
If she was still hungry—and knowing Annie, he wouldn't be surprised—then he had some lovely farmhouse Cheddar and a bit of Brie so ripe it was threatening to run away.
And, of course, wine. He'd remembered that she only liked white, and he'd chosen a delightfully fruity muscat which was chilling in the fridge.
All he had to do now was not burn the salmon, not boil the potatoes to mush and not ruin the baby vegetables by cooking them to death.
Three more things to add to his long list of nots.
He was not to push her too hard, he was not to assume that just because he'd caught her coming out of the clinic she was necessarily in a hurry to sleep with him tonight, he was not to talk her into doing anything she didn't feel ready to do, he was not to kiss her senseless the moment she walked through the door, he was not to act like a sex-crazed teenager and embarrass either of them.
The list was endless, and seemed to revolve entirely around his hyperactive libido. Not that it was necessarily that hyperactive. It had been fifteen months now since he'd met Annie, and there had been no one since—she'd been too hard an act to follow. It was probably no wonder that he was feeling a little hyperactive.
He glanced at his watch. Ten to seven. He just had time for a quick shower before she arrived.
Running upstairs he yanked off his clothes and showered rapidly. He was just pulling on his trousers and tucking in his shirt when the doorbell rang, and he ran downstairs to let her in, his feet still bare, half his buttons not yet done up, and her eyes widened with surprise.
'Sorry, am I too early?' she said, her eyes scanning him with what looked suspiciously like hunger.
'Absolutely not,' he said. Drawing her inside, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She tasted of toothpaste, and her hair smelt of that lovely shampoo she'd always used, and for a minute he totally forgot himself.
Then he remembered his list of nots, and lifted his head. 'I wasn't going to do that,' he confessed, 'but you just look so gorgeous.'
Annie laughed softly. 'You're such a liar. Some people will go to any lengths to get a kiss.'
'It's not a lie,' he said. 'You do look gorgeous tonight. You always look gorgeous.'
'I don't in the morning.'
'I wouldn't know, I've never been there to see you, but I have my doubts. Remind me to check it out one day soon.'
Her eyes flared, and he could see an aching need in their vulnerable and revealing depths. It was like looking in a mirror.
He looked away. 'Come on through to the kitchen, I'll get you a drink while I cook the supper,' he said.
She sniffed, and tilted her head at him. 'Have you started it yet?'
'No. It's all quick stuff—well, except for the new potatoes. They take a few minutes longer than the rest.'
'Is the menu a secret?' she asked, and he chuckled.
'No, not at all, although that's a good idea. Then if I wreck it, I can pretend we were always having tinned tuna with oven chips, can't I?'
She laughed. 'So, not that, then, unless it's a disaster.'
'No, but it is fish. Salmon.'
'Oh, lovely,' she said spontaneously. 'I adore salmon.'
'I know. I remember. You had it at the hotel, the night before—well, the night before.'
Hell. He hadn't meant to bring it up again, because every time he thought about it, the more difficult it grew to forget and put it in the past. And now she was looking at him with wide haunted eyes and her lips slightly parted, and a deep, slow ache started to build inside him.
He cleared his throat and looked away. 'Anyway, it's salmon, and new potatoes and baby veg—if I don't trash it.'
'You won't,' she said confidently. 'I promise not to distract you.'
He gave a rude snort of laughter. She always distracted him. Just having her there on the bar stool watching was such a distraction he was likely to burn the house down, never mind overcook the salmon!
* * *
The food was wonderful. Max had cooked it beautifully, and all she'd had to do was sit quietly and watch him, which had been absolutely no hardship at all.
They ate in the dining-room, with the French doors open into the pretty little garden, and there were roses on the table which he confessed were from his new house, and the glasses and tableware were gleaming in the candlelight.
He'd gone to a great deal of trouble to set the scene, she thought. If only he'd realised how unnecessary it all was, because she'd made up her mind on the way over here that it was time to move things on in their relationship, so all the window-dressing and scene-setting were a little superfluous.
Unless—no. It was far too soon, just wishful thinking. He was just pampering her, she thought with a twinge of disappointment.
Still, it was nice to feel pampered, she told herself, and she settled back and enjoyed it.
The wine was mellow and fruity, just the sort of thing she liked, and, of course, he knew that, just as he'd known she liked salmon. It was another thoughtful little touch, and she probably had rather more than was sensible if she wanted to keep her head.
Annie visualised the little shelf of things she'd put on one side carefully to show him—Alice's baby photos from the time of her birth, a video, her first tiny little all-in-one suit that had drowned her—all the things she wished he'd been there to see and that he'd missed. S
he was going to tell him tonight, after dinner, and take him home to show him.
She'd even changed the sheets—just in case.
And then he offered her a glass of dessert wine with the wickedly sticky chocolate gateau and raspberries, and she made herself sip it carefully. She wanted to keep a clear head, because she knew if she told him about Alice that tonight was going to be hugely significant—possibly the most important night of her life.
'Any more?' he asked, waving the knife at the gateau, but she shook her head.
'No, thank you, Max, that was lovely. Have it for breakfast.'
He gave an abrupt little laugh and got to his feet. 'Um, I've put the coffee on. Why don't you go into the sitting room? We'll leave this lot, I'll deal with it tomorrow.'
He shut the French doors, grabbed the half-eaten gateau and the jug of cream and disappeared, leaving her staring after him in confusion. Was she just imagining it, or had he seemed tense and a little...nervous?
Max, nervous? Whatever for?
Unless...
She shrugged and went obediently into the sitting room with the remains of her dessert wine. Soft music was playing, and there were more roses on the coffee-table, next to a box of mint crisps.
She loved mint crisps. She picked one up and settled herself into the corner of the sofa, her feet curled under her bottom, and nibbled the chocolate and sipped the wine while she waited for him.
He wasn't long. He came in, set the tray down on the coffee-table and poured the coffee, then sat down at the other end of the sofa. He seemed a long way away, so she unravelled her legs and turned sideways, tucking her toes under his thigh.
His hand came down instantly and curled over her feet, his thumb grazing the bare skin in a soothing, rhythmic gesture she wasn't sure he was even aware of. He seemed distracted, and she prodded him with her toes.
'Smile,' she commanded. 'That was a lovely meal, you can relax now. I have to say I didn't realise you were such a good cook or I wouldn't have settled for beans on toast last time.'
He smiled, a crooked little quirk of his mouth, then his face sobered and his eyes locked with hers.
'You seem a long way away,' he murmured, and she smiled.
'I was just thinking that,' she admitted, and wriggled closer, close enough that he could wrap his arm round her shoulders and tuck her up against his side.
'That's better,' he said, and she could feel the tension in him. His body was all but humming with it, and she found she was picking it up.
She tilted her head slightly to one side and looked up at him, trying to read his expression. 'Max, what's wrong?' she asked softly.
He looked down into her eyes. 'Nothing's wrong,' he said, but his voice seemed taut somehow. He hesitated, then added, 'I've got a feeling I'm about to make a complete fool of myself, that's all.'
He eased his arm away, stood up and plucked one of the roses from the vase, wiped the wet stem and turned towards her. She thought he was going to give it to her, but instead he went down on one knee and held it out to her, his eyes locked with hers, and her heart thumped and skittered against her ribs. Oh, Max...
'I love you, Annie,' he said, his voice shaking slightly. 'I know you've had a hell of a year, and I know I haven't helped, and I know it's too soon, but I do love you. I've loved you since I first saw you in the doorway at the hotel. I don't know what it was, I just connected with you, and nothing's been the same for me since.'
He hesitated, but when she opened her mouth to speak he shook his head and put a finger over her lips. 'No. Let me finish. I've got this far.'
He swallowed and looked away, then looked back, and his eyes were blazing with need and longing and something she'd never seen before.
Love, she realised dimly. Real love, the sort of love that nothing can destroy.
'Marry me, Annie,' he said, his voice crackling with emotion. 'Please? Come and live with me in my new house and help me prune the roses and mend the swing for Alice, and then maybe one day there'll be another Alice—'
He broke off, and Annie slowly and carefully took the rose from his trembling hands. 'I'd love to marry you,' she said, her heart overflowing, 'but before I say yes, there are things you must know. Things I haven't told you. One thing, anyway.'
'Just tell me this first,' he said urgently. 'Do you love me?'
She felt the smile split her face in two. 'Oh, yes.
Oh, yes, Max, I love you. I couldn't have got through the last year without you there in my heart.'
'Oh, Annie...'
He gathered her into his arms. 'That's all I need to know,' he said, and his mouth found hers in a searing kiss that left her breathless. When he finally came up for air, his eyes were blazing with desire, and heat rocketed through her.
'Max?' she whispered, and with a ragged groan he kissed her again. Without lifting his mouth from hers, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her up the stairs to his bedroom.
'I wasn't going to do this,' he muttered, and lowered her to her feet, sliding her down his front so she could feel every intimate inch of him. His lips found hers again, his hands tunnelling through her hair and anchoring her head while his tongue plundered the depths of her mouth.
'Annie,' he groaned unsteadily, and then he was stepping back a fraction, looking at her with eyes of fire.
'You are so beautiful,' he said.
She laughed uneasily. 'No, I'm not. I've got mud-coloured eyes and my mouth's too big—'
'So is Julia Roberts's, and you show me a man who doesn't think it's the sexiest thing he's ever seen—and your eyes aren't mud-coloured, they're a wonderful green.'
'You're besotted.' She laughed, still shy, and he shook his head slowly.
'No. Just in love. Undress for me,' he ordered softly. With her heart pounding, she pulled her top over her head, slid down her silk trousers so that they puddled at her feet and stepped out of them.
'Your turn,' she said, and he undid his shirt buttons slowly, one at a time, making her wait while all the time his eyes burned into her and set her on fire.
Finally his shirt hit the floor, and he unbuckled his belt, slipped the catch on his trousers and slid the zip down with irritating slowness.
His trousers fell to his ankles and he kicked them aside, then hooked off his briefs and straightened up.
Her breath caught and she swallowed hard and closed her eyes. She'd never seen him naked, and she felt suddenly unsure. He seemed so big and male and—well, beautiful, really, lean and honed and perfect. She wondered what he'd say when she took her bra off and her breasts slid towards her ankles. She couldn't compete with that sort of perfection.
'Annie?'
She opened her eyes, and he was standing right in front of her, just inches away.
'Darling, what's wrong?'
Inexplicably her eyes filled with tears. 'I've had a baby. I don't look like I used to.'
'You look fine to me.'
'You can't see me yet. I breast-fed her till last month. I sag.'
He laughed softly and grazed her cheek with his knuckles. 'You're lovely. You aren't meant to look like a pert teenager, you're a mother. If you weren't a mother now, you would be soon, so if I can't handle it perhaps we need to know.'
He was smiling gently at her, teasing her, and with a resigned sigh she unfastened the catch on her bra and pulled it off. His hands were there ready to catch her breasts as they spilled free, and with infinite tenderness he bent his head and brushed a kiss over her lips, then over the pale swell of each breast in turn.
Then he lifted his head and stared deep into her eyes. 'I want you, Annie,' he said gruffly. 'I don't think I can wait any more. I've waited so long.'
She went into his arms with a little cry of need, and he lifted her and put her down gently in the centre of the bed, kneeling beside her. He looked down at her, his eyes darkening, and with gentle hands he stripped away the little lacy knickers she'd worn specially, just in case, then bent his head and brushed a kiss over the damp curls.<
br />
She felt the warm sigh of his breath and a little cry broke free in her throat.
'Max, please, hold me,' she pleaded, and then he was beside her, his arms wrapped around her, cradling her against his chest.
'I need you, Annie. I can't wait,' he said, and then swore softly. 'Hang on. Don't go anywhere.'
He rolled over, opened the drawer of the bedside cabinet and she heard something tear. Seconds later he was back, his hand sliding down and finding her aching centre with devastating accuracy.
She bucked under his hand, crying out, and with a savage groan he moved over her and entered her in one smooth, slow thrust that sent her over the brink.
'Yes!' he whispered harshly, and then he was there with her, riding the crest of the wave until they came gently back to earth.
Her heart was pounding, her body was trembling from end to end and she just wanted to weep with happiness.
Max raised himself up on his elbows and stared down at her, his face stunned. 'Dear God,' he whispered reverently. 'I'd forgotten just how incredible it was with you. Oh, Annie, I love you.'
His shoulders heaved, and he gathered her fiercely into his arms and crushed her against his chest. 'I love you so much,' he said raggedly. 'I thought I'd lost you for ever. I thought I'd be alone for the rest of my life, and now I've got you and Alice.'
He broke off, his arms convulsing around her, and Annie pressed her lips against his tear-drenched cheek and hugged him back. 'I know just how you feel. I could never even think about anyone but you. I thought it was going to be just me and the baby, and I needed you so much—'
Her voice faltered and she buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder and clung to him until the tears stopped falling.
Then he lifted his head and looked down into her eyes, and kissed her with devastating tenderness. 'Are you all right now?' he asked gently, and she nodded.
'You?'
Max's grin was crooked. 'Oh, I think I'll manage.' His grin faded and he kissed her again. 'I'm sorry, I'm not used to letting my emotions out like that, but they just wouldn't stay put.'
'They shouldn't,' she assured him. 'Not with me. You're allowed to let go when you're with me. I'd feel cheated if you didn't.'
Accidental Seduction Page 11
