Their Most Forbidden Fling. Melanie Milburne
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shifted in the air—an invisible current that connected her to him in a way Molly had never felt quite before. She felt her lips start to tingle as if he had bent his head and pressed his mouth to hers. She could almost feel the warm, firm dryness of his lips against her own. Her mind ran wild with the thought of his tongue slipping through the shield of her lips to find hers and call it into erotic play. Her insides flickered with hot little tongues of lust, sending arrows of awareness to the very heart of her. She ran the tip of her tongue out over the surface of her lips and watched as his hooded gaze followed its journey.
The mewling cry of Mittens from inside the box broke the spell.
Lucas frowned as if he had completely forgotten what he was carrying. ‘Er … aren’t we supposed to rub butter on its paws or something?’ he asked.
‘I think that’s just an old wives’ tale,’ Molly said. ‘I’m sure if we show him around first he’ll soon work out his territory. I don’t suppose you happen to have a pet door?’
He gave her a speaking look. ‘No.’
‘Oh, well, he’ll soon let you know when he wants to go in or out. Maybe you could leave a window open.’
‘No.’
Molly pursed her lips in thought. ‘How about a kitty litter box? Then you wouldn’t have to worry about him getting locked inside while you’re at work.’
‘Read my lips,’ he said, eyeballing her over the top of the box. ‘I am not keeping this cat. This is an interim thing until you find a pet-friendly place to stay.’
‘Fine.’ She opened the folded over lid of the box. Mittens immediately popped his head up and mewed at her. ‘Isn’t he cute?’
‘Adorable.’
Molly glanced up at him but he wasn’t looking at the cat. ‘Um … I brought some food with me,’ she said, and rummaged in her handbag for the sample packs the vet had given her.
Mittens wound himself around Lucas’s ankles, purring like an engine as his little cast bumped along the floor.
‘I think he likes you,’ Molly said.
Lucas glowered at her. ‘If he puts one paw out of place, it will be off to the cat shelter.’
She scooped the cat up into her arms, stroking his soft, velvety little head as she looked up into Lucas’s stern features. ‘I’ll just feed him and give him his medication and get out of your hair,’ she said.
‘The kitchen is this way,’ he said, and led the way.
Molly stood back to watch as Mittens tucked into the saucer of food she had placed on the floor. ‘He’s been wormed and vaccinated,’ she said.
‘Desexed?’
‘That too,’ she said. ‘He might still be a bit tender down there.’
‘My heart bleeds.’
Molly picked up her handbag and slung it across her shoulder. ‘He’ll need to use the bathroom once he’s finished eating. Do you know you can actually train a cat to use a human toilet? I saw it on the internet.’
He didn’t look in the least impressed. ‘How fascinating.’
‘Right, well, then,’ she said, and made a move for the door. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
‘What are you doing for dinner?’ Lucas suddenly asked.
Molly blinked. ‘Pardon?’
His mouth twisted self-deprecatingly. ‘Am I that out of practice?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I haven’t asked anyone to stay to dinner in a while,’ he said. ‘I like to keep myself to myself once I get home. But since you’re here you might as well stay and share a meal with me. That is if you’ve got nothing better to do.’
‘You’re not worried what people will think about us socialising out of hours?’ she asked.
‘Who’s going to know?’ he said. ‘My private life is private.’
Molly felt tempted to stay, more than tempted. She told herself it was to make sure Mittens was settled in, but if she was honest, it had far more to do with her craving a little more of Lucas’s company. It wasn’t just that he was from back home either. She felt drawn to his aloofness; his don’t-come-too-close-I-might-bite aura was strangely attractive. His accidental touch earlier had awoken her senses. She could still feel the tingling of her skin where his fingers had brushed against hers.
‘I haven’t got anything planned,’ she said. ‘Simon’s going to the theatre with his friend. There wasn’t a spare ticket.’ She saw his brows lift cynically and hastily added, ‘I didn’t want to see it anyway.’
Lucas moved across the room to open the French doors that led out to the garden. He turned on the outside light, which cast a glow over the neatly clipped hedges that made up the formal part of the garden. A fountain trickled in the middle of a pebbled area and a wrought-iron French provincial setting was against one wall where a row of espaliered ornamental trees was growing. Mittens bumped his way over and went out to explore his new domain. He stopped to play with a moth that had fluttered around the light Lucas had switched on.
‘It’s a lovely garden,’ Molly said. ‘Was it like that when you bought it?’
‘It had been a bit neglected,’ he said. ‘I’ve done a bit of work on the house too.’
‘You always were good with your hands,’ she said, and then blushed. ‘I mean, with doing things about the farm.’
His lips gave a vague sort of movement that could not on anyone’s terms be described as a smile. ‘Would you like a glass of wine?’ he asked.
‘Sure, why not?’ Molly said. Anything to make her relax and stop making a fool of herself, she thought.
He placed a glass of white wine in front of her. ‘I have red if you prefer.’
‘No, white is fine,’ she said. ‘Red always gives me a headache.’
Lucas went about preparing the meal. Molly watched as he deftly chopped vegetables and meat for the stir-fry he was making. He worked as if on autopilot but she could see he was frowning slightly. Was he regretting asking her to stay for dinner? He wasn’t exactly full of conversation. But, then, she was feeling a little tongue-tied herself.
‘So why an intensivist?’ he asked after a long silence. ‘I thought you always wanted to be a teacher.’
‘My teacher stage only lasted until I was ten,’ Molly said. ‘I’ve wanted to be lots of things since then. I decided on medicine in my final year at school. And I chose intensive care because I liked the idea of helping to save lives.’
‘Yeah, well, it sure beats the hell out of destroying them.’
Molly met his gaze over the island bench. ‘How long are you going to keep punishing yourself? It’s not going to bring him back.’
His eyes hardened. ‘You think I don’t know that?’
Molly watched him slice some celery as if it was a mortal enemy. His jaw was pulsing with tension as he worked. She let out an uneven sigh and put her wine down. ‘Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for me to stay and have dinner,’ she said as she slid off the stool she had perched on. ‘You don’t seem in the mood for company. I’ll see myself out.’
He caught her at the door. His long, strong fingers met around her wrist, sending sparks of awareness right up to her armpit and beyond. She looked into his eyes and felt her heart slip sideways. Pain was etched in those green and brown depths—pain and something else that made her blood kick-start in her veins like a shot of pure adrenalin. ‘Don’t go,’ he said in a low, gruff tone.
Molly’s