Jessica Steele - The Feisty Fiancée

'SO?"

'So my stepfather-and rightly so,' she inserted fairly, `was a little displeased when I lent my car to a friend and…'

'And said friend concertinaed it.'

Her mother had acquainted him with the fact. `Exactly,' Yancie agreed.

'You normally get on with the stepfather? Presumably-since your mother's just got engaged-her ex-husband?"

'I get on very well with him,' she agreed. `In point of fact, Ralph's a dear, and I love him very much, and he had every right to be cross with me.'

'But?"

'But-well, nothing, really.'

'But?' Thomson repeated-a man, she guessed, who seldom repeated a question. She roused herself to answer as requested.

'Well, he was rightly cross, as I said, and I would have taken a telling-off as my due.'

'Only?"

'Only my stepsister, Estelle, surprised me by chipping in and saying she hoped I wouldn't expect her father to buy me another car. I'd honestly no idea she resented me so much! Anyhow, when I said I'd pay for a new car out of my allowance, Estelle reminded me it was an allowance her father paid me, andand…' her voice faltered.

'And even though you worked unpaid as his housekeeper you knew you could never take another penny from your stepfather,' Thomson finished for her, and Yancie turned in her seat and stared at him.

'How do you know me so well?' she gasped.

The corner of his mouth twitched. `I don't I'm learning all the time.'

He made that sound so nice that Yancie was near to crumbling as he slowed the car and steered it up the drive to his house. That, she felt, as he pulled up at his door, had to be the most terrific drive of her life. The trouble was that she didn't want to part from him-yet had absolutely no reason to linger.

Yancie quickly pulled herself together. Good grief, they'd just been talking of pridehad she none where he was concerned? Acting on the moment, as Thomson started to come round to the passenger's door, she quickly got out and pinned a bright smile on her face.

'Thanks for the loan of the jacket!' she said cheerfully, taking it off and handing it to him-at once feeling in danger of getting frostbite as the cold night air nipped.

Thomson looked at her-five feet eight, slender and totally feminine. 'You'll be all right driving on your own at this hour?'

She looked back at him and sorely needed some backbone-she was in danger of melting. `You'll have to watch that, Wakefield,' she jibed. `Your gentlemanly streak is showing!'

He studied her. `Are you always looking for trouble?' he asked good-humouredly.

'It always seems to find me without me having to look for it especially,' she laughed-and then, as the cold night bit, she shivered-and Thomson took decisive action.

'You can't go home like that. You'd better come in; I'll get you a sweater.'

'I wouldn't dream…' She was talking to herself. He was already unlocking the door to his house, and he still had the car keys. `You don't have to…' she protested anyway, following him in. `Once I'm inside the car's heater will… '

'You've next to nothing on.' He closed the door behind her, and was totally intransigent. `With those bitty shoulder straps you're all bare arms and bare chest.'

'Thanks,' she said sniffily.

And suddenly he seemed to relent. From being several paces away from her he all at once came back to her.

'Give way, Yancie,' he said softly, and at his tone she was melting again. 'I'm not happy about your driving through London, stopping at traffic lights, dressed as you are.'

Because I'm an employee and you don't want the responsibility of someone opening a car door and getting in beside me? Just because I'm an employee? 'I'll lock myself in,' she said.

'Of course you will,' he answered. But instructed, `Wait there.'

She didn't, of course. Though she didn't go far. She watched him go up the curving staircase and then, her mind on him more than what she was doing, she wandered off to the room she had been in before-his drawing room.

Thomson did not keep her waiting but returned in no time, carrying a blue cashmere sweater which he handed to her. 'I'll take the very best care of it,' she promised solemnly and again knew the greatest reluctance to leave-heaven alone knew when, if ever, she might see him again. `Goodnight, then,' she said.

'Put the sweater on,' he said.

'Oh! Right!' she answered, though instead of putting it on-and she just couldn't believe it-she actually heard herself say, `You realise, of course, that you've done me out of my goodnight kiss?' Had she said that? Had she actually said those words? Had she really invited Thomson to kiss her? Was she so starved of love that she had to beg?

She wanted to apologise, to run-oh, heaven help her, Thomson was looking at her as if he couldn't believe his hearing either! Yancie could have wept from the embarrassment of it. But Thomson was coming nearer and there was suddenly a glint in his eyes which she was a little unsure about.

And while she stood there staring, wanting her words back, he calmly took the sweater out of her hands and dropped it on the back of a chair, remarking, `I find it quite astounding, Yancie Dawkins, that you're still a virgin.'

'L…' she tried, but her voice died in her throat as he came that little bit closer-but she no longer wanted to run because, while giving her all the time in the world to do just that if she so wished, Thomson was reaching for her.

He looked down into her wide blue eyes and, when she had no other comment to make, he gently pulled her closer to him. As his head came down, Yancie closed her eyes, her heart giving a great quivering sigh of gladness when his sensational mouth touched hers.

It wasn't a brief touch of his lips to hers, but was firm as well as gentle, and her legs went weak. Involuntarily, her hands went to his waist, and she held onto him. He was warm and wonderful and he held her to him and, as gently as it had begun, his kiss ended.

Thomson pulled back, and Yancie stared up at him. `That was's-some goodnight kiss,' she murmured huskily, and knew she should let go of him and get out of there. But she didn't want to go and, since Thomson still had his arms around her, it didn't look as if he wanted her to go either.

In fact, he was still looking warmly down into her upturned face when he enquired softly, `I don't suppose you'd care for another?'

Yancie smiled dreamily up at him, and if that wasn't enough of an answer she moved her hands from merely holding his waist, and put her arms around him. And, as she had known, Thomson was quicker than most on the uptake. The next she knew was that his mouth was capturing hers, and he was kissing her again, only this time it was a little different.

And since she was fully cooperating, giving him kiss for kiss, his mouth ceased merely giving but sought and took, and Yancie held tightly onto him. She had been kissed before, but there had always been a shut-off point, a so far but no further point. But, as Thomson's kisses deepened, so that invisible barrier was reached, and as he took her with him to one of the sofas in the room, so as new and exciting emotions started to rock her, her shut-off point was sublimely passed with Yancie being completely unaware of it.

All she was aware of as Thomson trailed kisses down her throat and over her shoulders was that this was the salve she needed to the loneliness of spirit she had endured each day that she had not seen him.

Then somehow she was on the wide sofa with him, Thomson half lying over her. He raised his head and looked into her warm, inviting eyes. `You're so lovely, Yancie,' he murmured, `so beautiful,' and again he kissed her, his long, sensitive fingers caressing her shoulders, brushing aside the fine shoulder straps of her dress, and Yancie wanted to be beautiful-for him.