Janice Maynard - Millionaire Under The Mistletoe

‘You’re really worried about your mother, aren’t you…?’

This observation brought her back to reality with a resounding thump.

‘Am I supposed to believe you care about what I’m worried about?’ she sneered, eyeing him with open contempt. ‘The only thing you care about as far as I can see is getting me back into your bed!’

It was true, but that didn’t alter the fact her words made him mad as hell. The flare of something close to fear in her eyes made him realise that his feelings must have been reflected on his face, so he made a conscious effort to control his anger.

‘Listen, sweetheart,’ he said after he’d counted to ten a couple of times, ‘I’ve absolutely no idea if this thing is going to run its course in a matter of days, weeks or months but I think for both our sakes we should find out. If we don’t we’ll always wonder…’ He paused long enough for her to appreciate the truth of what he was saying. ‘I know you’ve some sort of guilt trip about sleeping with me last night, but it happened and I don’t see much point beating yourself up over it.’

‘Maybe I wouldn’t if you didn’t keep throwing it back in my face. Just for the record, I’m not…easy!’

‘Just for the record,’ he retorted drily, ‘I don’t think you’re easy…anything but, as a matter of fact,’ he added in a wry aside. ‘This isn’t the sort of attraction you can pretend isn’t there, Darcy.’

That was true.

‘I may want to get you into bed,’ he continued with a candour that made her mouth grow dry and started up the distressing palpitations once more, ‘but it doesn’t mean we can’t communicate outside the bedroom.’ Darcy had no way of knowing how extraordinary this statement was coming from Reece Erskine, and Reece wasn’t about to tell her—the truth was, it made him uneasy to acknowledge it. ‘You’re obviously worried about your mother and I thought it might help to talk to someone not personally involved. I may be shallow but I’m not totally insensitive.’

He sounded genuine. She searched his face—he looked genuine. ‘I was only talking to her the day before; she didn’t give a clue anything was wrong.’ Her fingers clenched tightly.

‘And you think you’ve done something?’

‘Not me personally maybe—but us, the family. Why else would she walk out like this just before Christmas? She’s made sure we can’t contact her…’ She gnawed away silently on her lower lip as she puzzled over the bizarre, bewildering behaviour of her parent.

‘It’s possible this is her problem.’

Darcy regarded him with disdain. ‘Families are there to help you with your problems; you don’t shut them out when you most need them.’ An expression she didn’t understand flickered across his handsome face. ‘It’s not at all like her—she’s so responsible. Poor Jack is convinced it’s something he’s done.’

‘But you don’t think so.’

Darcy shook her head jerkily; now she’d started to talk it was hard to stop. ‘Why couldn’t she talk to us…?’ she wondered unhappily.

‘I expect you’ll be able to ask her yourself when she comes home.’

In front of Jack and even her brothers she had to act optimistic and upbeat, and it was a relief almost to stop being so damned cheerful. ‘Whenever that might be.’

‘You’ve no idea at all how long she’s likely to be away?’

Despondently Darcy shook her head. ‘I’m really trying hard to make everything the same as it usually is…’ It seemed important somehow not to let things slip, to keep a sense of continuity.

‘And driving yourself into an early grave in the process,’ he observed disapprovingly. ‘The secret of a successful manager is delegation, Darcy.’ She looked so transparently touched by his comment that he felt impelled to add, ‘You ought to try it; you might even find you’ve got time for a personal life, and, as you already know, I have a vested interest in that.’

She stared wonderingly up into his face. It sounded as if he was saying he wanted to be part of her personal life, which didn’t fit with what he had said about not wanting a relationship—in fact, it seemed to directly contradict it. The warmth in his eyes made her lose track for a few moments. ‘How would I go about doing that?’

‘You really want to know?’

Darcy gave a rueful smile. ‘I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.’

‘Make a list of things you need to do and halve it.’ She opened her mouth to protest but he didn’t give her the opportunity. ‘Divide the remaining tasks amongst the others. And don’t tell me you can’t give orders because I’ve been on the receiving end. Actually,’ he admitted, his firm tone gentling, ‘I quite liked it. Some of the time I quite like you…’

Darcy gulped. ‘And the rest…?’ she prompted huskily.

‘I want to throttle you.’

‘Which is it now?’

‘Neither. It’s been a hell of a long time since I wanted to wake up beside someone.’

‘You’re not trying to tell me you’re celibate?’

‘No, I’m not,’ he agreed tersely. ‘Sex is one form of recreation that I’ve made a point of including in my schedule,’ he explained casually.

There was an appalled silence.

‘That sounds pretty cold-blooded.’ If she’d any sense she’d get back into the Land Rover and drive away. Darcy knew she wouldn’t—she couldn’t.

‘It’s an accusation that has been levelled at me before.’

‘You want to kiss me.’ It was a statement, not a question—it was the sort of statement that a girl who didn’t want to be kissed didn’t make.

‘For starters,’ he growled.

‘Then for God’s sake,’ she pleaded in an agonised whisper, ‘Do it!’

My God, but the man could move fast with the right motivation. She barely had time to draw breath let alone change her mind before his mouth was hard on hers, and his tongue began to make some electrifying exploratory forays into the warm, moist interior.

The sheer pleasure of his touch as his fingers slid surely under the woollen jumper she wore made her whimper and sag, weak-kneed, against him. His hand worked its way smoothly up the slender curve of her back. Darcy grabbed for support and then remembered his injuries.

‘I forgot.’

Reece’s mouth came crashing back down on hers and stole away the rest of her words.

Eyes closed, she gave a long, blissful sigh when his head eventually lifted. ‘I’ve hurt you.’ She made an agitated effort to pull back, but he had other ideas.

‘If I can’t cope I’ll tell you,’ he breathed into her mouth.

‘I don’t think I can cope with much more of this!’ she breathed back, touching her tongue to the fleshy inner part of his upper lip. She shuddered—they both did.

‘Cope with what?’

Darcy laid her hand flat against his chest, feeling his heart beat through the layers of clothing. She’d known him for less than forty-eight hours and already he’d taken over her thoughts. If she had any sense she’d call it a day now before things got any worse.

‘Cope with…wanting.’ She put all the aching longing in the one word.

What was happening to her—where had this wilful recklessness come from? After Michael she’d been cautious—pathologically so, Jennifer had said. Would Jennifer approve of the new Darcy? The one who saw the flare of fierce possession in his eyes and felt the heat melt her bones and didn’t even once contemplate running for cover? Hell, what did it matter? She needed action not analysis, and she needed Reece.

‘Does that mean you’ve stopped trying to push me away?’

‘I don’t recall doing much pushing.’ Grabbing, that was another matter.

‘Why fight…?’

‘My thought exactly.’