Christmas at the Lucky Parrot Garden Centre by Beth Good & Viki Meadows

Author:Beth Good & Viki Meadows [Good, Beth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thimblerig Books
Published: 2017-10-16T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

When Daniel drew her into his bedroom, grinning at her undisguised reluctance, she looked nervously at the large, glass tank but could not see the snake, only several desperate crickets clinging to the inside of the glass. He removed the lid, which made her stiffen. But when he pointed out the snake, she saw that Woody was not poised to escape but curled up in one corner under a leafy branch, ignoring them both.

‘Here he is,’ Daniel said softly, moving one of the leaves aside so that Woody’s full scaly length could be seen. ‘My snake.’ When Hannah gave a quiet snort of laughter, unable to control herself, he glanced at her with a puzzled expression. ‘What?’

‘Oh, nothing.’ But she was finding it hard not to giggle.

‘Would you like to hold him?’

‘Would I like to hold your snake?’ Hannah’s barely suppressed giggle turned into laughter. ‘Seriously? Tell me you meant that as a joke.’

To her surprise, there was a hard line of red across Daniel’s cheekbone. ‘Actually, I didn’t.’ He hesitated, then replaced the lid on the tank, and she could tell that her mockery had offended him. ‘I’m sorry if – ’

Hannah put out a hand, stopping him. She was touching his chest, she realised with a shock. When had he moved so close?

‘Please,’ she said, the edge of laughter in her voice replaced by a husky tone. ‘Don’t apologise. It’s me who should say sorry.’ She met his gaze. ‘I wasn’t making fun of you. Or Woody. It’s … the wine. I don’t know what I’m saying.’

‘Don’t you?’

He was so close now that she could smell that sharp cologne again. He wound one arm loosely around her waist. She knew that she ought to pull away, to reject this seduction before it went too far. But somehow she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Something in his eyes, perhaps. Or the way his fingers were stroking warmly up and down her spine. Instead, she set her other palm against the resilience of his chest, feeling his heart beat under her finger tips. It was going as fast as hers, she realised with a start.

What had they been talking about?

Hannah had lost track of the conversation, her fingertips stroking the soft fabric of his shirt, while she pondered what he looked like underneath.

She should never have drunk so much wine. Not that she was drunk. But she was ridiculously relaxed, almost boneless in his arms as he bent towards her.

‘Hannah?’ Her name on his lips was both a warning and a plea.

‘Hush. I’m thinking.’

‘Think faster.’

‘Okay. Well, first off, I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl.’ She slid her fingers through the little space between his shirt buttons, and felt the warmth and resilience of his skin.

‘I’m not a one-night stand kind of guy.’

‘Secondly, we should tidy away the dinner things.’

‘Probably.’

‘Or rinse off the dishes, at least.’

He nodded solemnly, stroking her cheek with one long finger. ‘Nothing worse than dried-on food.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Was that the third thing?’

She bit her lip, her breathing erratic.

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