Magnate's Mistress...Accidentally Pregnant!. Kimberly Lang
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hunger pangs.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed off the wall and found that her legs still weren’t completely stable. Which was appropriate, since she wasn’t sure she was mentally stable at the moment, either. These things just didn’t happen to her. But it had, and she was willing—make that more than willing—to grab this moment and run with it.
She covered the short distance between the marina and the inn in record time and hurried to her room. The light on her phone blinked, indicating she had a message waiting at the front desk, but she ignored it. She wasn’t the least bit interested in her fruity family or whatever crisis they’d concocted for themselves today.
Her wardrobe was limited, as she’d never considered this possibility while packing, and she grimaced at the selection. All of it plain, boring, unexciting—rather like her at times. She wished she had time to go shopping, to find something better, but the clock was ticking. When she got home, she’d do some serious shopping to remedy the sad state of her wardrobe. She did find another sundress that was dressier than the one she had on and wasn’t shaped like a potato sack. It would have to do.
She showered again and took extra time getting ready, wanting to look as good as possible, but her hair wasn’t cooperating. Sighing, she settled for another braid, tucking in the frizzing strands as best she could. At one minute after seven, she took a deep breath and headed for the lobby, half expecting Chris not to show up.
But he did, looking like something out of a magazine in loose linen slacks and button-down shirt with his blond-streaked hair brushed back from his face. That fluttery feeling in her stomach bloomed back to life, followed rapidly by the urge to suggest a quiet dinner in her room.
Chris leaned in to kiss her gently on the cheek, an innocent enough greeting under any other circumstances, but in this case, one that melted her insides and made her knees wobble.
“You look fantastic.”
“Thanks. So do you.” Those blue eyes were going to be the end of her. Seriously. She could stare into them for hours, but when he smiled and they lit…
“Mrs. Hogsten!” The desk clerk approaching her was a wet blanket on her rapidly heating thoughts. She sighed in disgust. Whatever happened to impersonal hotels where none of the employees knew or even cared who you were? She’d love that about now.
“Not Hogsten. Smith. Or even Ally is fine.”
“Of course, my apologies.” At least the pitying look was gone. Instead the desk clerk looked amused as he saw Chris standing so closely beside her. “We have a message for you.”
“Thanks.” She took the piece of paper and glanced at it quickly as the clerk left. “Call home.” Not tonight, she thought, as she stuffed it into her purse. Turning to the far more interesting Chris, she smiled. “Let’s go.”
“Is everything okay?” The concern she saw in his eyes was kind, but she wanted that other light back. The light that said he was interested in her, not what was on a piece of paper in her purse. The one that made her insides turn over and her skin tingle.
“Just my family checking in.”
That other look came back into his eyes, and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered to life. “Good.” Chris took her hand and led her toward the door. “It’s a beautiful evening and the restaurant’s not far. Mind if we walk?”
At the moment she’d gladly walk to hell and back if he’d keep looking at her like she was dessert. Pull yourself together before you jump on him. At least try to act casual about this.
The evening was beautiful and warm, and Ally inhaled the hibiscus-scented air deeply as they walked. This was the stuff books were written about, walking at night on a tropical island hand in hand with a gorgeous man who—
“There seems to be some confusion about your name at the hotel.”
I will not let reality spoil this moment. “Yeah. Well, it’s kind of a—”
“Long story?” Chris finished for her, flashing a smile that made her gooey inside.
“Exactly. And boring to boot. How about you tell me where we’re headed instead?”
“Have you ever had pepper-pot soup?”
She stomped down the urge to skip. “Nope, but it sounds great. Remember, I’m all about new experiences this week. I’m game for pretty much anything.”
Chris stopped walking and pulled her into the shadow of a huge mango tree. Warm hands settled on her shoulders, and Ally forgot to breathe. “Glad to hear it. In fact…”
It was all the warning she got before his mouth touched hers.
His lips were warm and soft and gentle, but she could feel the restraint, the tension in his hands as they moved up to cup her face and his thumbs stroked over her cheekbones. Rising up on tiptoe, she wrapped her arms around him as his tongue touched hers.
And everything changed.
This. This was the kind of kiss myths were built around. Heat and hunger radiated from Chris’s body, warming her blood and making it sing through her veins in answer to the need he stirred in her.
She’d never been kissed like this before, and her world shrank until all that existed was Chris and the feel of him against her and the taste of him on her lips.
A brief jolt of anger moved through her at the thought of all the kisses she’d wasted on Gerry. His lazy, perfunctory, be-happy-you’re-getting-anything kisses had never moved her like this.
Like this, she thought, and banished Gerry from her mind as Chris’s fingers massaged her scalp, and her knees turned to water. Chris caught her weight as she wobbled, fitting her tightly against him, and what little sanity she had left fled at the sensation: scorching kisses along the tender skin of her neck; the play of muscles under her fingers and the thump of his heart against the chest pressed tightly to hers. The bark of the mango tree bit into her back, but she didn’t care.
“Ally,” Chris whispered, the sound slowly filtering through the erotic haze around her, and she shivered at hearing her name on his lips.
She opened her eyes to find him staring intently at her, his fingers still tangled in her hair and his thumbs gently stroking her temples. But there was nothing gentle in the way he looked at her, and the fire burning in those blue eyes sent a shiver deep into her stomach.
Chris shuddered, his breath coming in quick pants like her own. She was glad to see she hadn’t been the only one to be shaken by the power of that kiss. She didn’t have much experience to draw on, but she knew the feeling was mutual. Tightening her fingers on the fabric of his shirt, she pulled him closer, wanting more.
“This isn’t exactly the right place.”
Belatedly, she realized he was right. While not crowded by any stretch of the imagination, there were other people on the street, and several of them were watching the display with interest. She should be mortified, slinking away in embarrassment, but surprisingly she didn’t care in the least.
“And, if you plan on actually having dinner tonight, we should probably stop.” His fingers slid out of her hair, and she could feel the braid hanging drunkenly to one side as he toyed with the loose strands. A rueful smile played on his lips.
Dinner? She didn’t give a tinker’s damn about dinner. The only thing she was hungry for was the man plastered against her like some kind of fantasy in the flesh.
Chris sighed and shifted his weight and Ally tightened her grip to keep him from moving away. For a brief moment indecision nibbled at her. She should let him go. She should go on to dinner. She should act nonchalantly about what just happened. A lifetime’s experience of responsibility and rationality told her to backtrack to the getting-to-know-you steps they’d leapfrogged over with that kiss.
I don’t want to.
The