nothing to do with
He whirled Miranda round and pinned her against the island, his thigh between hers. Miranda gasped at the pressure against a sensitive area, her fingers digging into his upper arms.
This time Callum gave no quarter, kissing her until they were both breathless. By the time he’d finished, she was clinging to him.
“You love that, don’t you?” Some demon within him demanded a concession from her.
But she remained mute, her eyes sparkling with defiance, her cheeks flushed with high wild color.
He hoisted her up onto the silver countertop, ignoring her squawk of protest. One of her pumps clattered to the tiled floor.
“My shoe.”
“Never mind your shoe.” He stepped between her parted thighs, forcing her dress’s hemline higher, and bending his head he placed open-mouthed kisses against the too-tempting smooth skin of her neck.
Her head lolled back, granting him unrestricted access. Lower down his hands ran along her nylon-clad thighs, he ruched her dress up farther, and when she didn’t stop him, Callum moved in for the kill.
Stroking her thigh, his fingers encountered a lacy stocking edge…then soft, satiny bare skin. He groaned as he realized she wasn’t wearing panty hose.
“Grief, woman, you know how to fuel a man’s fantasies,” he growled close to her ear as he caressed the tender flesh of her inner thigh.
Miranda only moaned, her hands knotting in his shirt.
Callum was past coherent thought. He stripped off first his dinner jacket, then ripping the snaps of his dinner shirt apart, let it fall on the stainless steel slab behind her.
“Oh.”
The sound of wonder that escaped her as she gazed boldly at his bare chest made him feel like a god. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her mouth with slow, deliberate intent, outlining the shape with the tip of his tongue. Miranda responded with hunger, and what had started out as a leisurely kiss erupted into no-holds- barred ardor.
Callum ran his hands under the loosened apron, over breasts and stomach still covered by her dress, down along her legs. He paused to caress the hollows behind her stockinged knees, then retraced the path to where the nylons ended.
After hesitating only a moment, he let his fingers drift higher until he encountered silky panties. His fingertips slid under the edge and slipped into her moist heat.
She arched against his hand. His fingers delved deeper. Her hips rocked invitingly. He buried his head in the valley between her breasts and tongued the soft hollow. Her fingers dug into his hair and pulled him closer. A roaring hunger surged through him.
This could only end one way.
With his free hand, Callum reached for his belt and zipper.
“So sweet.”
He shoved down his trousers and briefs with impatient hands, then eased her closer, her thighs splayed around his hips.
The stainless steel was shockingly cold and hard. “You must be freezing.”
She shook her head, arched back…and shivered. “Wait.”
He stilled at her command. Disappointment, hot and sharp as a blade, twisted in his gut. Slowly, with aching regret, he withdrew his hand from her warmth. “Why are you stopping?”
Bewilderment made him raise his head. It changed when he saw the foil package that lay in the palm of her hand, her open bag upended on the bench. God. He hadn’t even thought about a condom. But she’d had the presence of mind to protect them both.
He took it, tore it open and sheathed himself. “Are you sure, Miranda?”
She nodded, and her arms reached for him.
Euphoria filled him. Callum grabbed his shirt, bunched it up in a fist, and wedged it gently in behind her to pad her from the counter edge.
Then, unable to restrain himself another second, he positioned himself and pushed forward into the woman who’d been driving him wild all night.
Three
Miranda opened her eyes, caught one glimpse of the naked male torso she was snuggled up to, and a wave of mortification crashed over her.
Callum.
Oh, no! What had she done?
She lay rigid, not daring to breathe. Thankfully the man she’d fallen so foolishly into bed with last night was still asleep. Miranda suppressed a groan. And after that impulsive coupling up against the kitchen counter, she’d let him carry her upstairs-and make love to her all over again.
Let him? If anything she’d been a willing, totally wanton participant. It made her feel sick with guilt.
She cracked her eyes open and caught a glimpse of the dark mahogany bedhead. Beyond, pale winter-morning light spilled through sash windows into the bedroom.
Soon he’d waken. The idea of him finding her naked in his bed filled her with horror. Taking a deep breath, she inched her leg toward the edge of the bed. He stirred. Miranda froze.
After long, dragging seconds she slowly relaxed. He hadn’t woken. Shifting her weight to the edge of the mattress, she was conscious of her heartbeat drumming loudly in her chest.
An arm slid over her, and a large male hand closed familiarly over the top of her breast. Miranda forced herself to keep absolutely still.
Oh, help!
What to do now?
Her first impulse to push that possessive hand away and leap out of his bed receded as the strong male fingers stilled.
Affront mixed with adrenaline. He’d gone back to sleep!
Eyes darting to and fro, Miranda formulated a plan. Her dress and knickers lay in a pile on the floor. Her shoes were nowhere in sight-probably scattered across the kitchen floor. She shuddered at the memories that evoked.
How could she have done such things with this man?
She blocked it all out and turned her mind back to what dominated her now: escape.
If she rolled out of bed, she could scoop up her clothes and make a run for it. With luck she’d be out the bedroom door before he’d wake and realize she’d gone. Downstairs she’d grab her shoes, her coat and her bag- which should be on the bench top where she’d left it the evening before. An image of the contents-emergency condoms, lipstick, hairbrush, wallet, cell phone-scattered over the countertop flashed through her mind and she groaned silently.
Cell phone, she thought. Her breath caught. Her mother!
She never stayed out all night. Flo would be worried sick, had probably left a dozen anxious messages.
But at least she’d be able to come out of this disastrous encounter knowing she couldn’t be pregnant-or worse. Although right now that seemed small compensation for last night’s stupidity.
Miranda hauled in a shallow breath and readied herself to flee.
“So you’re still alive?” Provocative fingers explored the rise of her hip. “For a moment I thought you’d given up breathing-that you might require a little mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”
Callum’s lazy confidence cast despair into Miranda. He’d probably been awake from the start. There’d never been any chance of a hasty getaway. Bastard.
She curled into a tight ball, refusing to acknowledge him.
“Come now.” He tightened his hold, rolling her over onto her back. Wide-awake blue eyes stared down into
