Christine Rimmer - Pregnant! - Prince and Future...Dad? / Expecting! / Millionaire Cop & Mum-To-Be

Egalitarian to the core, Liv put on her most socially superior expression. ‘‘Because he’s a mere freeman?’’

‘‘Not really. I think my grandfather and I are enlightened enough to accept that my sister might someday decide to marry a man without a title.’’

‘‘Then why?’’

‘‘You’d have to meet the boy. Cauley is completely uncivilized. He was ten when the groundskeeper and his wife adopted him. It was probably a mistake that they took him on. He was angry and aggressive, couldn’t read or even write his own name. He’s seventeen now. Under all the hair and the surly attitude, I’d venture to say he’s a handsome young man, if a trifle too thin. But he remains woefully undereducated and socially inept. He’s good in the gardens, though. His father has him working with his top assistant, Dag, learning the ropes, as they say.’’

‘‘And he and your sister?’’

‘‘She seems, I’m somewhat relieved to say, to have tired of him.’’

‘‘Only somewhat relieved?’’

Finn shrugged. ‘‘I can’t help but pity Cauley. He’s hopelessly in love with her still. She’s hurt him terribly and he’s pulled into his shell even deeper than before.’’

‘‘Back to your sister.’’

‘‘If you insist.’’

‘‘How has she been allowed to become so unmanageable?’’

‘‘My mother died when she was born, and my father soon after, of a broken heart. My grandfather is her guardian. He’s never been able to refuse her anything.’’

There was, she realized, so very much she didn’t know. ‘‘Your grandfather, what’s his name?’’

‘‘Balder.’’

‘‘A true Norse name.’’

He laughed. ‘‘How would you know?’’

‘‘My mother taught us the myths—at least the major ones. Balder, as I recall, was the son of Odin and Frigg. He was much beloved by the gods. His mother fixed it so nothing could kill him.’’

‘‘Except a dart made of mistletoe.’’ He leaned in closer again. ‘‘Take me home with you….’’

She breathed in the intoxicating scent of him, admired the shadowed shape of his mouth, felt the pull of his gaze through the darkness. His suggestion did tempt her—far too much. ‘‘Uh-uh.’’

He bent closer. ‘‘Allow me the opportunity to convince you….’’ His mouth was an inch from hers. So far, she’d resisted the desire to kiss him. But she was weakening. And with his mouth so close, she couldn’t keep herself from thinking that if she were to move toward him a fraction, their lips would meet.

‘‘I don’t…’’ She hadn’t the faintest idea what she’d meant to say next.

‘‘Like this.’’ He leaned forward the necessary minute distance. His mouth touched hers—too briefly. And then he pulled back. ‘‘What would you like, Liv?’’

‘‘I…’’

‘‘What do you want?’’ As if he didn’t know very well. ‘‘A kiss?’’

How was she supposed to make a rational decision, with his arms on either side of her and his wonderful, hard body brushing the front of her and his lips no more than a breath away?

No doubt about it. It was happening again, that distressing problem he so easily created whenever he was near: the problem of a precipitous drop in her IQ….

And just look what he had done, after tempting her so thoroughly? He’d ended by making it, undeniably, her choice.

She wasn’t as strong as she probably should have been, as strong as she’d always considered herself until recently—recently being ever since she’d met this particular impossible, too-charming man. ‘‘Oh, Finn.’’ And then she was leaning into him, capturing that wonderful, skilled, hot mouth of his.

He took care of the rest. Those lean arms closed around her and his body pressed close. And his mouth….

With a small, lost cry of surrender, Liv wrapped her arms around his neck.

His tongue entered quickly, sliding along the top of hers, pushing all the way in, then slowly, teasingly retreating.

No way could she stop her own tongue from following, into the hot, wet cave beyond his lips. His teeth closed, lightly, and her tongue was captive. And then there was his tongue again, slipping beneath hers in a liquid, oh-so-lovely caress.

Oh, how did he do it? When Finn Danelaw kissed her, she went spinning, deliciously, out of control. His hands moved, pressing, rubbing, down over the curve of her bottom, and back up, insinuating themselves under the hem of her gauzy blouse, so he could rub and stroke her up and down her spine. Her skin burned and tingled everywhere that he touched. His mouth held hers captive as his tongue worked its hot magic. One hand curved possessively at her waist while the other was slipping around to the front of her, then moving, oh-so-slowly down….

And down…

And if they kept on like this, they’d end up stretched out naked on her mother’s driveway.

Uh-uh.

From some source of good sense she’d almost forgotten she possessed, she slid her palms down to his chest and exerted a light but definite pressure.

After a moment, with obvious reluctance, he lifted his head. She saw the white flash of his teeth in the darkness. ‘‘Change your mind?’’

What mind? ‘‘About?’’

‘‘Allowing me to come home with you.’’

She sucked in a calming breath, let it out very carefully and shook her head.

He looked at her for a long moment. Finally he asked with rueful good humor, ‘‘That wasn’t a no, was it?’’

‘‘It was.’’

‘‘How discouraging.’’

‘‘But tomorrow night—’’

His teeth flashed again. ‘‘At last.’’

‘‘You didn’t let me finish.’’ Her lips felt swollen, tender. Hot. She had to resist the urge to raise a hand and touch them. ‘‘I was going to say we’d go to dinner, if you’d like.’’

‘‘Dinner.’’ It clearly was not what he’d had in mind.

‘‘Yes, dinner. We’ll talk. We’ll…enjoy each other’s company.’’

‘‘I’m all for enjoyment, in any form.’’

‘‘It’s a date, then—say seven-thirty, my house?’’

‘‘I’ll be there.’’

She felt his heart beating under her hand. And it was crazy, but she could have stood there forever, with Finn, in her mother’s driveway, surrounded by warm summer darkness, beneath the old oak tree. ‘‘I…well, I guess there are things to be said for relentless pursuit.’’

He caught one of her hands and kissed the tops of her knuckles, causing them to tingle in a heady, lovely way. ‘‘I assure you, my darling, I have only begun to assail the walls around your stubborn heart.’’

Chapter Eight

Liv’s cell phone rang as she was pulling in beneath the carport at the back of her borrowed house on T Street. She dug the thing out of her purse and flipped it open.

The number in the display was to Simon’s cell.

For a moment of which she was not the least bit proud, she considered not answering. Then, thoroughly disgusted with herself, she pushed the talk button and put the phone to her ear.

‘‘Liv?’’

‘‘Hi.’’

‘‘At last, I caught you.’’ He sounded…she couldn’t tell. Worried? Suspicious? Maybe he had read about her and Finn in the tabloids.

‘‘Liv? Are you there?’’

‘‘Right here. And it’s been pretty crazy, since I got back. I should have called you, I know, but I…’’ She what? There was no excuse for not having called him. She finished lamely, ‘‘Well, it’s been such a zoo….’’

‘‘Where are you now?’’

‘‘I just got home—to the T Street house?’’ She pressed her fingers to her lips. It seemed as if she could still feel the hot pressure of Finn’s mouth there. Fifteen minutes ago, in her mother’s driveway, with Finn’s arms around her, she’d felt pretty good about everything. She was finally taking charge, dealing with the mess she’d made in a way that everyone involved—meaning herself and her family and Finn and the baby that might or might not be coming—could accept.