Elizabeth Power – A Passionate Affair: The Passionate Husband / The Italian's Passion / A Latin Passion (страница 18)

‘I’m not most people.’

Now, that was definitely the truest thing he had ever said! She stared at the painted wall some feet away, trying to work out where he was coming from. He didn’t sound mad, but he had always been able to conceal anger very well. ‘What do you want?’ she asked carefully.

‘You.’ It was immediate. ‘But I’ll settle for breakfast.’

In his dreams! She forced a sarcastic laugh. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘No?’

‘No.’

‘Oh, well, I guess I can throw stones at Mrs Tate-Collins’s window and see if she’s in the mood for warm croissants. Say what you like, but I think I might be in with a chance there.’

She stared at the receiver as she tried to assimilate the implication of what he had just said. ‘Where are you, exactly?’ she said flatly.

‘Exactly?’ The pause was deliberate. ‘Well, if we’re talking exactly, I’m on the second paving slab to the left of the steps which lead up to the front door of your building.’

He was outside? For a second she was tempted to tell him to go ahead and wake Mrs Tate-Collins, but knowing he would almost certainly call her bluff restrained her. She didn’t want him sitting in the basement telling Mrs Tate-Collins all the ins and outs of this ridiculous situation, as he knew full well.

She tried one last time. ‘Go home, Taylor.’

‘No chance.’

She dipped her head, shaking it irritably before she said, ‘Doesn’t what I want count for anything?’

‘Absolutely not. We’ve done it your way over the last months and what have we got? No nearer to sorting anything out and even more tangles in the web.’

‘I could get a restraining order. That way you wouldn’t be able to keep harassing me.’

‘You could try.’ It was mordant. ‘But I doubt if any court in the land would agree that offering you dinner, giving you a helping hand when you were sick and then calling by with breakfast constitutes harassment.’

She took a deep breath to combat the anger his supremely confident voice had aroused. He took the biscuit for sheer arrogance. ‘I’ll open the front door.’

‘Thanks.’

Sixty seconds later a light knock announced his arrival. She had just had time to pull on a pair of cream cotton combat trousers and a sleeveless top, but with her newly washed hair shining like raw silk and her skin fresh and clean from the shower she felt more than able to hold her own. She didn’t rush to answer the door, waiting for a moment or two before she pulled it open.

Taylor was standing with a box in his arms, his smile lazy and his amber eyes reflecting the golden sunlight from the landing window. ‘Good morning.’ He waited for an invitation to enter.

She inclined her head, refusing to let him see what his presence did to her. He was wearing black jeans and an open-necked black denim shirt and he looked magnificent. ‘Come in,’ she said grudgingly.

He quirked a brow at her tone but said nothing, walking past her and then standing just inside the room. ‘This is great.’ He couldn’t quite disguise his surprise.

‘I like it.’ She had opened the balcony windows first thing, and now he walked across the room, after depositing the box on the breakfast bar, standing and looking out over the rooftops for a moment or two.

Turning, he said, ‘Did you have to do much when you first moved in?’

‘Quite a bit.’ It felt very strange, having him stand in her little home, and to cover her agitation she began to unpack the box of food he had brought as she detailed her additions and alterations to the bedsit.

He had brought warm croissants, as he had said, along with a selection of preserves in tiny individual jars, and cold cooked meats, cheese, hard-boiled eggs and potato salad. Melon, kiwi, grapefruit, mango and other fruits—all ready prepared and sliced in containers—along with a variety of cereals and fresh orange juice made up the box, at the top of which lay a deep red rose, its petals still damp with the morning dew.

Marsha made no comment about the rose, placing it to one side. It seemed safer.

‘Do you really mind me bringing breakfast round?’

He had come up behind her, his breath warm on the back of her neck. She was not fooled by the gentle persuasive tone. He was using the Kane charm, and it could be lethal on occasion. ‘Actually, yes.’ She used the excuse of fetching plates and bowls to put a few feet between them.

‘Why?’

She turned, her hands full, and found herself facing his chest. He had moved as lightly and swiftly as a cat. ‘Because this is my home and I prefer to invite callers.’ As he made a move to take the crockery from her she said, ‘I can manage, thank you.’

‘I’m sure you can.’ He took it, nevertheless, setting it down on the breakfast bar and then perching on one of the stools which he had pulled out further into the room. ‘But there’s more to life than managing, surely?’

She warned herself not to get drawn into this. ‘You know what I meant.’

‘And you know what I meant. I’ve existed, not lived, the last eighteen months. Tell me you haven’t done the same.’ He raked back his hair as he spoke and the simple action created a surge of sexual need inside her she couldn’t believe.

‘I’ve been fine. I am fine.’ She stared straight at him, refusing to blink as she lied.

‘You’re getting better at lying, but you’ll never really master the art,’ he said comfortably.

‘I see the giant ego is still alive and healthy.’

‘However, I would say you’ve improved beyond measure with the putdowns.’

He had an answer for everything, impossible man. She had promised herself she wouldn’t show any emotion, but now her green eyes glowed like an angry cat’s as she glared at him. ‘You’re the only person who ever affects me that way,’ she said, without thinking about her words.

She saw the tawny gaze widen for a second and realised what she had said. ‘No one else is as rude or pushy as you,’ she qualified quickly.

He stared at her, his expression carefully masked but with a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth which was more annoying than any challenge. ‘Relax, Fuzz. I’m not about to leap on you and have my wicked way. This is just breakfast, okay?’

Too true it was. Did he really think she would just fall into his arms like a ripe plum if he made a move? She raised her chin. ‘I didn’t expect to hear from you again after the way I left the house.’

‘Yes, you did,’ he argued softly. ‘You knew I wouldn’t be able to keep away from you.’

‘You managed it fairly successfully for eighteen months.’ She had intended her words to be barbed, but they merely sounded faintly woebegone.

‘I’ve told you why. You needed to face certain issues and work them through so you could see the truth for yourself and make the first move to reconciliation.’

‘Well, that didn’t work, did it?’

He smiled. ‘I do occasionally get it wrong. That ought to please you.’

She shrugged, picking up one of the fruit containers, only to have it taken out of her hand in the next moment. ‘Look at me, Fuzz,’ he said quietly, his voice gentle. ‘I mean really look at me. Can’t you see I’ve been in hell the last months? Don’t you know I’ve been half crazy?’

As he spoke, he stroked the back of his fingers across her cheek, his other arm enclosing her into the warmth of him. ‘Don’t.’ It was feeble and they both knew it.

‘The touch, the feel, the smell of you.’ His voice was even softer, the amber eyes mesmerising. ‘I’ve thought of nothing else. When you were in that wretched little bed and breakfast I used to come and park a few doors away late at night, just so I could be in the same vicinity as you. How’s that for crazy? And then when you moved here if I picked up the phone once to call, I did it a thousand times.’

‘Why didn’t you follow through?’ she asked weakly.

‘I thought I was doing the best for us, for our future. Those gremlins that dog you have got to be brought into the light and destroyed. Oh, Fuzz…’ He took her mouth in the gentlest of kisses, his tenderness beguiling her utterly. ‘You’re perfect, don’t you know that? Everything I could ever want.’

This time when his mouth fastened on hers the pressure was more intense, and now both arms held her to him. He was kissing her in the way she remembered, a way which made her body ache for him. His hands roamed up and down the silky skin of her arms before moving one strap of her top aside so his lips could caress the smooth flesh of her shoulder. She shivered and his attentions increased. Her arms instinctively lifted as he raised the bottom of the top and pulled it over her head.

‘Beautiful…’ It was a throaty murmur as his hands cupped and moulded the full mounds of her breasts, his thumbs playing over the hard peaks of her nipples. ‘Ravishingly beautiful.’

When his mouth took what his hands had just admired, she couldn’t help arching back, a moan escaping her lips as hot sensation curled like electricity from the tip of her left breast right into the core of her. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, her legs trembling so much she couldn’t hide how deeply he was affecting her.

When his hands moved to the clip on her trousers she was beyond protest. His own clothes followed hers a moment later until they were both naked, their skin warm and moist. She inhaled the clean smell of his lemony aftershave, its sharp tang mixed with his own musky scent to produce an erotic perfume that was pure Taylor. She had so missed him… It was the only thought she was capable of.