She’d accused him of being scared, he thought, and she was right. Ever since he’d been left with two babies to make a future for, every decision had been carefully controlled. But Kirsty was uncontrolled. Uncontrollable.
Kirsty.
This was madness. This was not a sensible move at all, but she was right before him, her eyes wide with gentle, mocking enquiry. A man could drown in those eyes. A man could lose control completely. No, it wasn’t the least bit sensible but she was waiting to be kissed. The watchers on the clifftop were waiting for a man to kiss a woman. Kirsty had defied him to put on a show for their audience, and suddenly he couldn’t help himself.
And when he took her hands in his, when he drew her to him and kissed her, softly, wonderingly on the mouth, it was like the coming together of two halves of a whole.
She was so…right!
He’d thought he’d known how a woman felt-of course he did-but this was different. Each curve; the soft warmth of her; every part of her moulding against him, fitting with a completeness that was as shocking as it was wonderful.
He knew this woman, he thought numbly. He’d always known her, but he hadn’t found her until now. And then he stopped thinking anything at all as his mind shuttered down and all he felt was the kiss.
And Kirsty…
Kirsty had goaded him into this kiss, half laughing, but half of her desperately wanting. It was as if she’d been defying herself to find that it couldn’t be as wonderful as her subconscious was screaming that it could be. But her subconscious had been overwhelmingly, deliciously right.
Her hands came up to cup his face, deepening the kiss, and she felt the rough beginning of stubble on his tough male skin. It was so erotic she felt her toes start to curl.
She’d kissed men. Of course she’d kissed men.
Nobody had caused her toes to curl as this man was doing right now.
And she could keep kissing him. It was unbelievable that he was kissing her, that she was holding him and he wasn’t pulling away, that he was deepening the kiss, seemingly wanting her as much as she wanted him.
Nothing had ever felt so right. Her breasts were against his chest, his hands were tugging her waist, drawing her into him, and she was arching against him. Aching. Loving. Welcoming her man to her, as a woman welcomed her man home after battle.
Home to her heart.
This couldn’t last. They were playing for an audience, she thought in the tiny recess of her brain still available for anything but pure, hot sensation. In a moment he’d pull away and all the reasons why he didn’t want a relationship, why she didn’t want a relationship, would surface and life would go on as before.
This was time out for both of them but she wasn’t going to stop it. To do so would be dumb, and she didn’t feel dumb. She felt light and hot and wonderful and…loved.
Loved?
Maybe she was dumb after all. Her hands moved to pull him closer, tighter, to deepen the kiss as if to block out the unwanted intrusion of sanity.
But it had happened and maybe he’d felt it, or maybe he’d had his own intrusive thoughts because suddenly he was pulling away. His hands caught hers, using them to hold her away from him. Just a little.
His eyes were quizzical, laughing-but she was starting to know this man and she could see uncertainty behind the facade of laughter.
‘Do you think that’s given them enough?’
‘No,’ she said, trying to match his laughter. But she was aware that the unsteadiness of her voice must be a give-away to the jumble of emotions within. ‘They won’t be satisfied unless you rip my clothes off and take me, right here.’
‘You want to do that?’ he asked, the smile still managing to stay-but both of them knew that what he was suggesting was entirely possible, given another time, another place…
Another life.
He released her hands and it was all she could do not to cry. Such a loss.
‘Maybe being known as Dolphin Bay’s town slut isn’t quite what I had in mind,’ she managed, still trying for lightness. ‘Though it’d do wonders for your reputation. Fornication in public? No mother in her right mind would let her daughter so much as come to you for a flu jab.’
‘Then maybe we’d better not.’
‘Maybe we’d better not.’
He caught her hand again, simply, girl to boy, swinging her around so they were side by side, facing the cliff. It was a simple gesture, but the feel of his fingers entwined in hers moved her unutterably. She glanced up at the line of cars, trying to take her mind off the feel of his hand. By the time they reached the car park their audience would have completely dispersed, she decided. The town gossip network was about to move into meltdown.
‘You think what we’ve just done will keep me safe from matchmaking?’ Jake murmured, and the lightness had suddenly gone from his voice. His fingers were gripping hers with force as well as with warmth.
‘For the next few weeks they’ll bracket us together,’ she whispered. ‘Everyone knows we’ve been sleeping in the same castle. The local gossip lines will all but self-destruct. Then when I go you can be heartbroken all over again, just as you were when your wife left. Getting over your wife has given you years of grace. The town is only starting to gear up seriously to matchmake. And now you’ve another lost love.’
‘You’re my lost love,’ he said, sounding startled.
‘I make a good one, don’t you think?’
‘Um…sure.’
‘There you go, then.’ She was working so hard on keeping it light that something inside her was threatening to break. She was so close to tears…
There was a ring from his shirt pocket and she thought, Thank heaven for cell phones. Anything to break this moment. Anything to give her space. She walked away a little, and she could almost hear the collective sigh of disappointment from the clifftop.
Could she stand living here as the local doctor and being watched every day?
Maybe not. Not unless…
Don’t go there, she told herself. She shrugged and hiked up the beach, and by the time Jake reached her she was sitting on the sand, pulling her sandals back on. Their time of make-believe was over.
‘They were lovely fish and chips,’ she told him, trying to sound polite and dismissive. ‘It was a very nice walk and a very nice kiss. Thank you very much, Doctor.’
His lips twitched. ‘Just like that? Consultation over?’
‘I’d be guessing you have places to go, people to see.’
‘Emily Cannon has croup.’
‘There you go, then. I’ll see you back at home.’ Hardly, she thought. Jake and his twins were sleeping in a guest suite on the first floor near Angus, about as far from her as it was possible to be. ‘Unless you need help with croup,’ she added, trying not to sound hopeful.
‘Croup hardly needs a specialist anaesthetist.’
‘I still remember croup training.’
‘I don’t need you.’
You couldn’t get more of a dismissal than that. Right.
‘Goodnight, then, Dr Cameron,’ she told him.
‘Goodnight, Dr McMahon.’
‘I’d shake hands but our audience seems to have disappeared,’ she said, motioning to the deserted car park. ‘It’d be a waste of human contact, don’t you think?’
But she didn’t wait to find out whether he agreed or not. She turned and stalked back to her car with all the dignity a woman could muster.
Which wasn’t very much at all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
