Читать книгу His Ring, Her Baby / His Bride for the Taking - Сандра Хьятт, Maxine Sullivan - Страница 10

Vanessa spent the rest of the day helping out around the motel. She, Linda and Hugh had perfected a routine of taking turns to look after Toby and Josh, taking them outside in the private garden area or playing on the living-room rug with the boys. If they were all busy, then one of the staff usually stepped in for a short time. She felt like she had the best of both worlds, and loved being able to help Linda and Hugh as well.

But tonight as she fed Josh his dinner, her heart was heavy, her mind awash with thoughts. Mike had been careless with money and no matter how hard she’d tried to save, he’d spent it as fast. They’d rented an apartment, their car had been on hire purchase, and they hadn’t owned much. She’d eventually receive compensation money from Mike’s death, but she planned on putting that into a trust account for Josh.

And none of that helped her situation right now. If she returned to Sydney she’d have to find somewhere to live. And she’d have to get a job and put Josh in day care. Or she might have to let Grace and Rupert look after him. Or heaven help her, she and Josh might have to move in with them. Already they had him booked into the right school. It had the right type of people, they’d said, and he’d make the right type of friends.

Oh, God.

Suddenly she felt like she’d been cut adrift. It was the same feeling she’d had when her mother remarried five years ago and went to live in England. She hadn’t met Mike then, and with her father having died when she was little, her job in an insurance office had been busy but it hadn’t been enough. Linda had been living in Melbourne at the time, and Linda’s four brothers and sisters were great cousins but they were older and had lives of their own. She’d felt so alone. Looking at alternatives now, she wasn’t sure what was worse.

“You’re quiet, sweetie,” Linda said from where she sat on the sofa folding washing.

Vanessa winced inwardly as she looked across the open-plan living area to her dark-haired cousin. Was she so transparent?

“Just thinking,” she said casually.

“You’re not fretting too much about what you’re going to do, are you? We’ll think of something. I promise.”

“You’ve got enough to worry about right now.”

“So one more thing won’t matter, will it?” she said, with more bravado than not, Vanessa thought. “In any case, we have a month before we have to leave here.”

Vanessa nodded, then continued feeding her son. The best thing she could do for Linda right now was stay calm and pretend she was fine. She rather suspected Linda was doing the same thing for her sake.

“By the way,” Linda said, after a few moments’ pause, “what did you think of Kirk Deverill?”

Vanessa’s mouth tightened. She hadn’t known whether to say anything to her cousin but.

“You really shouldn’t have asked him to keep me company tomorrow night. I’ll be busy helping with the party.” She didn’t dare mention the dinner invitation. Wild horses wouldn’t drag that out of her.

Linda’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. “I don’t believe it! The man’s got a ton of money and he’s a total hunk and you’re complaining about spending time with him? Cuz, he’s the catch of the century.”

“And your point is?” Vanessa said with a touch of sarcasm, then immediately felt bad.

Linda stopped what she was doing, her eyes considering her from across the room. “You don’t like him, do you?”

Vanessa went to speak her mind, then looked away to hand Josh the spoon to play with. She’d probably said enough. Kirk Deverill was too handsome for his own good and was quick to take advantage, but much as she wanted to, she wasn’t so sure she should share her opinion with her cousin.

She shrugged. “I just don’t know the guy, okay?”

Linda sighed. “Mike’s been gone six months now, sweetie. You have to get on with your life.”

Striving to ignore the empty void in her heart that the mention of her dead husband brought, Vanessa swallowed hard. Her cousin meant well. “I’m trying to get on with my life but that doesn’t mean I want you to make dates for me.”

“It wasn’t meant as an actual date. I just thought it would do you good to see new people.”

A bubble of warmth coiled around Vanessa’s heart. Her cousin was a lovely person. “I know. And thanks. But I’m not ready. I’m not sure I’ll ever be.” Would she ever be able to ignore the fear in her heart? The fear of loving and losing.

“Of course, you could always stay home tomorrow night,” Linda surprisingly suggested. “Phyllis’s granddaughter said she’d babysit but you could look after Josh and Toby yourself. I could tell Kirk you’re not feeling well or something.”

It was tempting but somehow it smacked of cowardice and Kirk would see right through it. And besides, once he learned of her circumstances she was certain that would be the end of it.

“No, I’ll be fine. I guess I can handle him for one night.”

Linda winked at her as she stood up with the folded towels. “Sweetie, that man’s worth more than a night.”

Vanessa gave a weak smile and returned to feeding her son. She had the feeling her cousin was right.

The party was in full swing by the time Kirk arrived the next evening. He was late but he’d had no choice. His housekeeper, Martha, had decided she needed to go look after her sister. He’d made a booking then arranged for one of his men to drive her to Dubbo Airport, but she’d been upset so he’d stayed with her until it was time to leave. He’d never forget how she had helped his mother cope with his father’s terminal illness.

And now he put all that out of his mind as he stood near the entrance and ordered a whiskey with one of the young males acting as a drink waiter for the night. The restaurant was crowded but there was only one person he wanted to see tonight.

Vanessa.

She was nowhere to be seen.

Just then, she came through the swinging kitchen door carrying a plate of hors d’oeuvres. An odd jolt shot through his chest. She looked incredible in a short black dress that fitted snugly against her breasts, its thin straps emphasizing her smooth neckline and shoulders, the color a glorious foil to the silken mass of her blond hair.

Without hesitation, he skirted the tables and caught up with her near a potted palm. Intense pleasure coursed through him when he saw the quick spurt of desire in those green eyes before she masked her expression.

She was even more beautiful tonight.

“Good evening, Mr. Deverill,” she said with cool politeness.

He raised a mocking eyebrow. “Mister? I’m sure you called me by my name yesterday.”

“I’m sure I called you a lot of things yesterday.”

The comment made him laugh low and husky. Then, “You look fantastic tonight.”

A blush ran over her cheeks.

Not so cool.

“Dance with me,” he murmured, wanting nothing more than to hold her in his arms and feel her moving against him.

Her gaze darted out over the dance floor in the center of the room. “Dance?”

“Surely even Cinderella can have fun at the ball?” he teased.

“I—” She looked down at the plate and began rearranging the hors d’oeuvres, the faint tremor in her hand shooting satisfaction right through him.

Then she lifted her eyes and moistened her lips. “There’s something I should—”

“Yes, there is,” he said huskily.

Come closer and touch me. Slide your hands around my neck. Press yourself against me.

She drew in a quick breath. “I—” Raising her chin higher, she pulled back her shoulders, unknowingly emphasizing her firm, rounded breasts. “I’ve just got one thing to say to you, Mr. Deverill.”

“What’s that?”

“You are no prince.” With that she took off into the throng.

Amused, Kirk watched the feminine sway of her hips. Then he exhaled a low rush of air. He’d have liked nothing better than to follow her. To slide that zipper open at the back of her dress. To plant kisses all along her spine. And beyond—

The waiter interrupted his thoughts with the glass of whiskey. He took a sip and it burned going down. A long, slow burn.

Just like Vanessa.

Then Hugh’s parents called his name and the world intruded, but over the next hour he couldn’t keep from watching Vanessa mix with the other guests. She smiled graciously. She laughed. And then she’d catch him looking at her and that smile would freeze on her lips, a signal that he affected her as much as she affected him.

Later she disappeared into the kitchen with a pile of dirty glasses. He followed and found her stacking the dishwasher. She was alone, as he’d hoped she would be. She couldn’t know it, but she gave him a bird’s-eye view of her cleavage, the same view he would get if she were lying on top of him. Two perfect globes. His to caress.

“Want some help?” he said huskily.

She straightened, a guarded look in her eyes. “Thanks, but I can manage.” Spinning away, she picked up some clean plates from the table and reached for the top shelf of a cupboard.

He watched as her dress inched up her thighs. Damn, but she had gorgeous legs. Long and slim and firm enough for a man to grip as she rode him home, smooth enough for a man to slide up and into her.

“You owe me a dance, Vanessa.”

Her eyelashes flickered, then her lips twisted. “I’m sure Phyllis would love to come back from her break and find us dancing in her kitchen,” she scoffed, picking up more plates.

Unable to stand another look at those legs, he strode over and took the plates out of her hands, then put them on the shelf himself.

He turned and took slow steps toward her. “We could go outside under the stars, if you’d prefer.”

Anywhere.

He didn’t care.

As long as she was in his arms.

“No, I can’t.” She went to spin away.

He put his hand on her arm, stopping her. “One dance can’t hurt us.”

She tensed as if she knew one dance was all it would take. “Kirk, listen. This is all a waste of time.”

“What is?” he murmured, watching the way she suddenly moistened her lips.

“You … trying to seduce me. It won’t work. I can’t do this.”

He pulled her closer. “Vanessa, you’re only fooling yourself if you think—”

“Kirk, I’m a widow.”

He blinked in shock.

“My husband died six months ago.”

He stared at her, trying to absorb the information.

“I’ve been trying to tell you. I—”

The screen door opened and Phyllis stepped inside the kitchen. “I don’t believe it! Kirk Deverill in my kitchen,” she scolded lightly, then stopped, her gaze going to Vanessa. “Oh, was I interrupting something?”

There was a pause but Kirk couldn’t have spoken to save his life. A widow? She was too young. She was only in her mid-twenties.

Vanessa stepped back. “Not at all, Phyllis,” she assured the motel cook, then headed for a side door. “I’ll leave you two to catch up.” She left the room.

Kirk let her go. He had to. He couldn’t make his feet move right then.

“So how’s your mother, Kirk? I want to hear all about her.”

Hell, what could he say to Vanessa anyway?

“And Martha?” Phyllis added. “I believe her sister isn’t well.”

Kirk slowly turned back to the older woman, forcibly pulling himself together, but his mind was working overtime. He still couldn’t believe Vanessa was a widow.

Christ!

Vanessa was shaking by the time she left the kitchen and slipped into Linda’s bathroom. She’d told him. He knew now. He wouldn’t pursue her further. And that was just as well. Tonight had the signs of being a prelude to a relationship she wasn’t ready for.

A man-woman relationship.

All she had to do was get through the rest of the evening.

Drawing a calming breath, she left the safety of the bathroom and took a few minutes to chat to the teenager babysitting the boys here in Linda’s private quarters. Then she took a quick peek in on a sleeping Josh before heading back to the party.

On entering the restaurant, the first thing she saw was Kirk dancing with a young, raven-haired beauty whose father owned a sheep station not far from town. She gazed up at Kirk as if any minute she’d swoon at his feet.

A touch of cynicism seeped inside Vanessa. He didn’t seem to be worried about his attraction for her right now, with Tina’s red dress clinging to his dark trousers. Any closer and they’d be joined at the hip.

“Like to dance, Vanessa?” a male voice said beside her, and she looked up to see Seth Collins, one of the other woman’s brothers, standing there, his brown eyes reflecting admiring lights.

She flashed him a smile, glad to have someone take her mind off Kirk. “Lead the way.” On the dance floor she went into his arms. His height forced her to look up at him and he grinned down at her with a face as handsome as his sister’s was beautiful.

Vanessa smiled right back at him, aware that he found her desirable. Unfortunately he did nothing for her. Not like.

Her gaze shot past him to Kirk, who was scowling at her over Tina’s shoulder. There was a determined look in his eyes and suddenly she wasn’t sure being emotionally tied up in her late husband would make any difference to him. Kirk Deverill went after whatever or whoever he wanted.

She dragged her eyes away. “Had enough to eat, Seth?”

He nodded. “Best spread I’ve had in a long time.”

She darted a quick look back at Kirk, who was still looking at her.

And he was getting closer.

Her heart thudded in her chest. She should have known he was the type of man who let nothing get in his way.

Swallowing, she quickly looked at Seth again. “Had enough to drink?”

“More than enough, thanks.”

Kirk was closing in on them, a hard set to his jaw. Nervously she scraped an imaginary strand of hair off her cheek. “Good. We aim to please.”

Seth gave a short laugh that grated on her taut nerves. “You do a good job of looking after your guests.”

Closer still.

“Er … that’s because everyone’s been so nice to me.”

“I’m sure you’re easy to be ni—”

“Seth,” Kirk interrupted, coming right up beside them, “you’d better take your sister outside. She says she’s going to be sick.”

Tina hiccupped.

“Great,” Seth said ruefully but he immediately released Vanessa and put his arms around Tina. “Come on, sis. Let’s get you some fresh air.” He shrugged at Vanessa regretfully. “Sorry about this.”

“That’s okay.” Vanessa began edging as far away from Kirk as possible. “I have to go check on—”

Kirk pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in his warmth. “We need to talk,” he rasped, and began leading her around the floor as Seth escorted his sister to the door.

Vanessa pulled herself together. “Do you often make women sick when they dance with you?” she said sweetly, not wanting him to know he had her running scared.

His eyes dismissed her comment. “Tell me about your husband,” he all but growled.

Like a flash she grasped that this wasn’t about him pursuing her. All he wanted were answers, nothing more. She could understand that. Most people were curious when they discovered someone so young had been widowed.

Tension eased out of her shoulders. “Mike was a policeman. He was killed in a bank robbery six months ago.” She could count it down to the weeks, days, hours. She would remember the exact date and time for the rest of her life.

A muscle jerked in his jaw. “Hell, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” She’d heard those words so many times from people, and she appreciated them. Yet hearing them come from this man made her feel strange.

“How long were you married?”

Vanessa swallowed. “Two years.”

His hand tightened on her hip. “And were you happy?”

“Very,” was all she could manage, otherwise she’d be thinking about Mike and how much she missed him. And it didn’t seem right to be thinking about him while she was dancing in the arms of another man.

His mouth compressed. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

She didn’t like his tone. “I don’t believe I owe you any details of my private life,” she snapped.

Another couple danced too close and he had to move her out of the way. By the time she fell back into step, she hoped he’d let the subject of her marriage go.

He didn’t.

His eyes snagged hers, almost accusingly. “Why aren’t you wearing any rings?”

She’d known he’d noticed. “I’ve taken them off temporarily. They were too tight in the heat.”

Those blue eyes gave her the laser treatment. “You knew I thought you were available.”

Her lips twisted. “You probably think every woman is available.”

“Aren’t they?” he mocked.

She sucked in a sharp breath at his arrogance. The road to Sydney must be littered with women who threw themselves at him, but that was no excuse for—

Just then, she saw Cindy standing near the kitchen door carrying her son. “Josh!” She immediately forgot Kirk as she left his arms and hurried over to the babysitter. “Is something wrong? What’s the matter?” She didn’t know what she’d do if anything happened to him.

“I think he heard your voice before. He started crying and won’t settle.” Cindy pulled a face. “I’m sorry to drag you away.”

“Don’t be,” Vanessa said, lifting Josh in her arms, relieved he wasn’t sick. His eyes were wet from crying. She kissed his cheek and smoothed the blond hair off his forehead. “How’s Toby?”

“Sound asleep,” Cindy said. “I’d better get back to him. Do you want me to take Josh back? He might settle now that he’s seen you.”

“No, that’s fine. I think I’ll take him home now.” It was getting late and she needed no better excuse to get out of here.

Cindy nodded, then disappeared through the kitchen door.

Vanessa hugged Josh closer, smelling his soft, sweet scent. “Time to take you home and put you to bed, little man.” She turned around to find Linda or Hugh and tell them that she was leaving so they wouldn’t worry.

She froze. Kirk. He’d followed her.

His eyes had an odd glitter. “He’s yours?”

She swallowed then nodded, proud of her son but feeling the awkwardness of the moment.

“I’ll carry him for you,” he said in a brusque voice.

She stiffened. “No, the apartment’s only out the back.”

“You could fall over in those heels,” he said, making her aware he missed nothing about her.

Suddenly she had to get out of here … away from the restaurant … away from Kirk Deverill. She had to keep a physical distance, if only to maintain an emotional one.

“No, I’ll be fine.”

He said something low under his breath. “I insist.” His eyes held hers. He wasn’t going to give up.

She expelled a shaky sigh. “Okay, but I have to find Linda first and tell her I’ve gone.”

“She’s over near the bar.”

She looked and saw Linda near the bar, standing beneath the Happy Anniversary banner. Her cousin waved at them and Vanessa indicated she was taking Josh home, and received a speculative look and a nod of acknowledgment.

Then she let Kirk lift Josh from her arms, half expecting Josh to cry—and wishing he would—only he didn’t. Then she and Kirk left via the kitchen. Phyllis and a waitress looked up as they passed through, but Vanessa gave a bright smile and hoped she wasn’t tomorrow’s gossip. And if she was then it was only one person’s fault.

His.

Looking directly ahead, she didn’t talk as her high heels tapped along the well-lit driveway until they came to the converted garage. Once inside the apartment, she waited until Kirk placed Josh in his crib, then she tucked her son in and moved back into the living room. She saw Kirk’s gaze as he took in the room with its polished wood floor, comfortable sofa and handmade cushions.

For a long moment his blue eyes rested on the wedding photograph of her and Mike, who’d been so handsome in his policeman’s uniform.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thanks for carrying Josh for me.”

He drew his gaze away from the photograph and looked at her, an unreadable expression in his eyes. “No problem.”

Trying to look experienced at this sort of thing, she walked toward him and held out her hand. “I guess this is good night.”

His hand slid over hers like a glove. “I guess it is.”

She realized her mistake then. She hadn’t wanted to touch him. Hadn’t wanted to feel his skin against her own, not even in the most casual way.

And she knew that wasn’t true.

She wanted to touch him.

And there would be nothing cavalier about it.

Something must have shown on her face because he gave a sharp intake of breath. The next instant he brought her hand to his mouth and ever so slowly he kissed the inside of her wrist.

Heat arrowed into her belly, igniting her blood like she had never known before, not even with Mike. Loving Mike had been simple and uncomplicated. Somehow she knew it wouldn’t be like that with Kirk.

He dropped her hand and stepped back. “Goodbye, Vanessa,” he said thickly, and moved toward the front door.

Then he was gone.

The door shut behind him.

She stood there shaking. Then, stunned by what just one touch could do to her, she collapsed on the couch, her thoughts tumbling down like the house made of straw. Now that she was alone, she wanted him back, wanted him to touch her more, make love to her.

Oh, Lord. What was the matter with her? Mike was still her husband in her heart; meanwhile she longed to hop into bed with the first good-looking man that had come along. What had happened to remaining true to Mike’s memory? The father of her child. Kirk Deverill dredged up emotions she intended to keep hidden. Emotions of desire and need that shouldn’t be there. Her husband had only been dead six months. How could she yearn to be held close by someone else so soon? A stranger no less.

Her heart squeezed with pain but she didn’t cry. The season had come and gone for more tears.

And this feeling for Kirk?

It, too, would pass.

An hour later Vanessa still hadn’t fallen asleep. She felt wound up, like a mouse running around one of those exercise wheels. Perhaps a few slow laps of the pool would relax her.

Pushing herself out of bed, she peeked out her bedroom window. The glow of night-lights showed the pool area empty of people, with most of the motel guests having retired for the night and others still at the party on the other side of the motel. With the pool close enough to keep an eye on her apartment, she didn’t need any further encouragement to slip into her one-piece swimsuit.

Five minutes later, pleased that out here the party sounded as though it had wound down some and that Kirk would probably have left, she dropped her towel on a deck chair and carefully descended the steps at the corner of the pool.

As she eased in up to her neck, ripples fanned out around her and the reflections of the dimmed lights gently bounced over the surface of the water. For a few seconds she enjoyed the anointment, the warm lotion of the water massaging her body, helping her to unwind.

Then she kicked off from the wall of the pool and started to swim, keeping as quiet as possible as she sliced smoothly through the water, not wanting anyone to join her and spoil this for her.

Twenty laps later she felt tired but at last she felt refreshed. Rolling onto her back in the middle of the pool, she looked up at the night sky. The darkened shape of a bird flew across the silhouette of the moon. Stars twinkled down on her from a bed of velvet. An owl hooted in the distance. This was the life. She could so get used to—

“You came to Jackaroo Plains for a reason, didn’t you?” a deep male voice said.

She swallowed water and began to choke. Her peace shattered, she tried to catch her breath as her feet touched the bottom of the pool to stand up. In a dimly lit area in the corner, Kirk sat on one of the deck chairs. Had he been there all along?

“Are you following me?” she demanded.

“No. I was out here already.”

Her breath suspended in midair. The thought of him watching her slowly step into the pool surrounded by night-lights, seeing her body outlined by the one-piece she wore, made her quiver inside.

“And you didn’t answer my question,” he reminded her.

“What question was that?”

“You came here to help get over your grief, didn’t you? That’s why Linda’s so concerned about you.”

No need to tell him about her in-laws. It was none of his business. “Linda worries too much.”

He got to his feet and strolled toward the pool. “So what will you do when they sell the motel? Go back to Sydney?”

She didn’t know what she was going to do. “I’m working on something now,” she fibbed, not wanting him to know how desperate she felt. She turned the conversation away from her. “Anyway, why are you out here? I thought you’d be enjoying the party.”

He stood looking down at her, watching the moonlit water lap at the top of her breasts, his strong features holding a certain sensuality that made her shiver. “I needed some fresh air.”

Pretending his husky voice didn’t perturb her, she eased backward in the water, slowly moving around, trying to look unaffected by him.

“I guess you’ll be heading home soon then,” she said, hoping against hope that he’d take the hint.

“I’ve booked a room for the night.”

She stopped moving. Had he expected to share it with someone? Her? This was his friends’ motel, but he would be discreet, she knew.

All at once she became conscious of feeling a tiny bit cold but she didn’t want to get out of the pool in front of him. He’d seen more than enough of her tonight.

He frowned. “You’re getting cold. Come on, I’ll help you out of there.” All action now, he went and picked up her towel from the chair.

Her heartbeat started to skip. “No, it’s okay. I’m fine. I’ll just swim around some more then go back to my apartment. No need for you to wait around.”

His frown deepened. “I’m not leaving you here alone, Vanessa. You could get a cramp.”

“I won’t.” She hoped she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt, but suspected she did. “You really should be going back to the party.”

A very masculine look suddenly entered his eyes. “I should?” He paused. “Why?”

She drew an unsteady breath. “Er … why?” Her throat closed up. Her mind froze. She couldn’t think of a thing to say that didn’t give away how much he was affecting her.

Then a mask came down over his face. “Come on, Vanessa. Get out of the pool.” Clearly remote now, he opened the towel and held it up for her.

She wavered.

“Vanessa?”

She stared at him, then told herself he was only concerned for her welfare, nothing else. It was either that or she’d never get out of the pool.

She dared not look at him as she concentrated on moving through the water toward him. Her foot found the first step and she began to rise out of the pool. She could feel his eyes on her as the water sluiced down over her swimsuit, each step up exposing every inch of her body to him.

She reached the top step and looked up.

Their eyes locked.

The air stilled between them.

He moved closer. “Let me,” he murmured, standing in front of her, slipping it around her shoulders.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. “Um … you might get wet.”

“I don’t mind.” He pulled the edges of the towel tight at the column of her throat, bringing her closer, against him.

Their bodies touched.

Sizzled.

She felt him all the way down to her toes.

Suddenly she saw tiny flames in his eyes and an ache that had been growing all night throbbed through her veins. She wanted to touch the full curve of his mouth with her own just once, to taste its warmth, its strength.

He lowered his head and she trembled, and with a silent sigh, closed her eyes as his mouth covered hers. Her lips met his and he kissed her … and kissed her more … long and slow. Oddly enough her lips felt as if they were welcoming him home. He tasted both familiar yet unsettling, firm yet gentle. A heady mixture of the known and unknown.

He drew her closer, cupping the back of her head and deepening the kiss. Then groaning a low sound that seemed to wrench from deep inside him, he pulled her hips tightly against his arousal, letting her know what he wanted. She leaned into him, reveling in the sexual heat which spread like bushfire from his body to hers. She decided then and there that he felt as good as he looked. And she moved closer still. Need was everything. She needed more than the taste of his mouth. More than the feel of her breasts against his hard chest. She needed to feel him inside her. For the first time ever she understood why they called it consummation.

She wanted to be consumed by him.

Without warning, he broke away, breathing heavily, his eyes smoldering for her. A pulse leaped along the hard line of his jaw. “Vanessa, go,” he rasped.

She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “I—”

“Go.”

She didn’t need to be told a second time. Whirling around, she ran back to her apartment as fast as her legs would take her. When she finally closed the door behind her, she sank to her knees and brought her hand to her mouth. Dear God, what had she done? Everything she’d believed about herself and the type of woman she was had just been proven wrong.

She had betrayed Mike.

Worse. She’d kissed another man and found something in that kiss she’d never found in the two years of loving her husband.

Lust.

She had wanted to melt in Kirk’s arms and have him carry her off to bed and a night of whirlwind passion and blessed satiation. Except that Kirk hadn’t given her the chance, had he? No thanks to her, she thought with self-deprecation.

So shouldn’t that make her happy?

Yes.

Why, then, did she have an inexplicable feeling of emptiness? As if she’d lost something important she’d never really had.

Kirk had a raw feeling in his gut as he let himself into his motel room. The party was over for him in more ways than one. The woman he was so attracted to … the woman he’d wanted to make his own … was not only a grieving widow but a mother as well.

Why the friggin’ hell hadn’t someone thought to mention it yesterday? He wouldn’t have come here tonight. He wouldn’t have gotten involved. Now he had the taste of Vanessa Hamilton in his mouth.

And the imprint of her body on his clothes.

Dammit, the last thing he wanted to see right now was his reflection in the mirror. He was wet all the way from his blazer and shirt down to the front of his trousers, the dampness touching his skin through the material. His pulse quickened. Just looking at himself reminded him what she’d felt like in his arms. Soft and willowy, her curves flush against him.

Not that he’d forget in any hurry.

Just like he wouldn’t forget she was a young widow with a small child. No question now why she’d been fighting his advances. She was still getting over the death of her husband. And he intended to leave her to it.

Of course all that begged the question.

If she hadn’t felt anything for him, what exactly had she been fighting?