Hired Girlfriend, Pregnant Fiancée?. Nina Milne
Читать онлайн книгу.
girl had been graciously dismissed and Zander had been swept away.
His attempts at remonstrance had been met with a shake of the head.
Dropped her books by accident? Don’t be stupid, Zan. That girl—Gabby Johnson—likes you. I know I’ve got nothing to worry about, but she’s a bit of a dark horse. No one knows much about her except that she lives with her grandparents. I just wanted her to know you’re taken.
In the here and now, he decided there was little point in reliving the details. ‘I do,’ he settled for saying. ‘So, how have you been?’
‘Fine. I’m sorry about Claudia.’ The words were simple but sincere, and, to his relief, she left it at that. No intrusive questions or additional sympathy.
‘Thank you.’
‘Right, well. Nice to see you again. I’ll leave you to go in.’
As she moved forward, a piece of paper fluttered from her hand and she looked down at it, made to reach for it and then clearly recalled that she was wearing a bunny suit.
‘We must stop meeting like this.’ Zander squatted down and rose. He handed her the paper, his gaze inadvertently taking in the words. Challenge No. 8. The penny dropped. ‘Hen party?’
‘No,’ she said, deadpan. ‘I usually parade around Bath dressed like this.’
‘Lucky Bath.’ OK. That was not what he had meant to say. But somewhere between his brain and his mouth, that was what had come out.
Gabby stared at him. ‘No. Not lucky Bath—and definitely not lucky me. Would you like to parade the streets dressed like this? Or the male equivalent, whatever that is. How about in a pair of tighty-whities?’
There was a silence as they both contemplated the scenario. Her face turned pink and her look of appraisal morphed into one of confusion. ‘And bunny ears,’ she added.
‘Probably not many women’s fantasy.’ Another vocal miscue. ‘Not, of course, that a bunny suit features in my fantasies. At all.’ And that was worse. It was obvious that it had been a long time since he’d interacted socially with a woman. Time for a subject change. ‘Anyway—did you manage the challenge?’
‘Nope. Not yet. I thought I’d come to the abbey and have a bit of time out...maybe come up with a strategy. Or even some courage would do. But I don’t feel comfortable going in dressed like this. It doesn’t seem right. Plus I’m nearly out of time, so I’d better get going.’
‘Maybe I can help?’
This caused her to pause. ‘Why would you want to help?’
‘I’m a nice guy. I wouldn’t like you to fail a challenge. Old times’ sake. Take your pick. So, what is the challenge?’
Reluctance warred with the hope on her face.
‘I need to get a photo of myself kissing a h—a...a stranger.’
Ah. This was what happened when you started a social interaction with a woman dressed in a bunny suit. Not that it was a problem; a simple peck on the cheek and they could both go their separate ways. Yet his awareness of her ratcheted up. His gaze skimmed the smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose, the impossible density and length of her eyelashes, the glossy lushness of those kissable lips.
Stop. What was the matter with him? He quite simply didn’t look at women like this—hadn’t done since Claudia. The sooner he got this over with the better.
‘OK. I’ll help. I know we aren’t technically strangers, but it’s close enough.’
Uncertainty touched her features and then she expelled a sigh. ‘OK. Let’s get it over with.’
Despite the echo of his own sentiment, he felt irrational chagrin touch him.
As if she sensed his reaction, she reached out and touched his arm. ‘Sorry. That came out wrong. This is just a highly embarrassing situation for me. I’m a university librarian. An introvert. Being dressed like this... Asking someone to kiss me for a selfie is... I feel like an idiot. That’s what I meant. But what I should have said is thank you—I really appreciate this.’
‘No worries—and it’s not a big deal. Where shall we pose?’
They moved to the side of the entrance.
‘Here is fine.’ Reaching into her small clutch bag, she pulled out her phone. ‘OK. I’m ready.’
Zander leant forward and aimed for her cheek, ridiculously aware of her elusive flower scent, the smoothness of her skin and the glint of the chestnut sheen of her hair. Then at the last second she moved slightly, presumably in an attempt to position the shot, and instead of her cheek, his lips brushed hers.
Of course the right thing to do—the sensible action, the gentlemanly option—would have been to draw back. But that didn’t happen. Instead he froze, caught in a sudden surge of sensation, tantalised, yearning, preternaturally aware.
Gabby drew in the slightest of breaths, and that triggered something else. Did he pull her forward? Did she step towards him? He didn’t know and it didn’t matter. Because all he could think about was the imperative need to deepen the kiss.
Her lips were soft, pliant against his, and somehow—impossibly—it felt as though they were the only two beings bathed in the last rays of sunshine that hazed around them and added magic to the ambience. Strands of desire twined together into a knot of longing in his gut as Gabby gave a small moan, pressed against him, looped her hands round his waist.
Until the spell was broken as a teenager jostled them, then jumped back with an embarrassed muttered apology.
Gabby, too, moved backwards in a jerky movement, hazel eyes wide in shock, her breathing fast. ‘I... I...’
But clearly speech had deserted her, and without another word she spun round and walked away, her pace rapid. For a moment he opened his mouth to call her back—and then closed it again.
Bad idea. Bad move. Since Claudia’s death Zander had eschewed the whole dating scene for a reason. Too complex. Too confusing. Too complicated. Just like that kiss had been.
And so he stood still and watched Gabby walk away.
GABBY HAD NEVER been so glad to see Monday morning arrive, and as soon as she entered the university library the world felt a better place. The feeling was further enhanced by the fact that she was dressed in cropped navy trousers and a cream blouse, her hair caught up in a ponytail, without so much as a vestige of pink, let alone any bunny motifs, in sight. Even better, she was surrounded by the familiar dense quiet of her workplace—a blanket of calm after the neon pink of the weekend.
Sure, she’d enjoyed herself, but it had been overwhelming, as well. The fact she didn’t really know the other women very well but they knew each other had been an eerie reminder of her early life. As a child she had always been the outsider looking in—too shy, too awkward, too scared to try to join in. Cliques and friendship groups had formed and she’d missed the boat.
But those days were behind her, and as she walked towards her office, the library environment offered a comforting mix of technology and history, computers mingled with shelves of books—all enough to propel the weekend into the dim and dark recess of her memory.
Well, most of it anyway.
It would take a while before that kiss ceased to haunt her—days later she’d swear her lips still tingled. Ironically, the only physical evidence that the kiss had even happened—the sole picture she’d managed to take—had come out so blurry as to be useless. On her way back to the party she’d entered an upmarket fashion store, located a mannequin