The Baby & the Bodyguard by Jule McBride

Author:Jule McBride
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 1994-11-14T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

SANTA LOCKED THE DOOR and turned around. Hints of lamplight shone through her window into the intimate darkness. Cyn was standing by the window. One of her long arms hung rigidly at her side; the other lifted a corner of the curtain. Ah, Cyn, he thought, wanting to tell her that he liked her just the way she was. This new you is just a disguise. I can see that you’re as soft and sweet as you ever were.

She’d warmed to his kisses in the living room, but now, in her bedroom, she seemed tense. He crossed the room and approached her from behind. His arms circled her waist and his hands rubbed slow circles on her abdomen. When he hugged her tightly, and she felt how aroused he was, her back stiffened and then slowly relaxed. Together, they stared through the window. He could hear her swallow. “It’s cold out there,” she finally said.

Her hand was trembling and the curtain fluttered. “That’s why I’m in here tonight,” he said. “With you.”

She turned in his arms, letting the curtain fall. “To keep me warm?” She gazed into his eyes, her voice tremulous.

He drew her closer, pressing her against the length of his body, and kissed her, slowly probing her lips. “Ah, Cyn,” he chided softly as he leaned back, “don’t tell me you’re scared.”

He smiled, feeling glad it was dark, knowing there was less chance he’d be discovered this way. “Brassy Cyn,” he murmured, nuzzling his cheek against hers. He began to let down her hair. His other hand roved over her back. When her hair cascaded around her shoulders, he raked his fingers through it, caught it in fistfuls then let it fall again.

“It’s been a long time,” she said breathlessly.

For an instant, his hand froze on her back. “How long?” Four years?

“Too long.” Her hands cupped his chin. “How’d you get that scar?” she asked huskily.

He was surprised to find that the question didn’t even anger him. He smiled. “Knife fight.”

Her chuckle caught in her throat. “Somehow I doubt it,” she whispered as her hands dropped to his chest. As she began to unknot his tie, his lips settled on hers again.

He tried to remind himself that he was supposed to make love to her quickly and without foreplay. But as he kissed her, his hands dropped gently from her hips, to her thighs. He lifted the hemline of her dress with nothing more than his fingertips, until skin met skin and he was touching the bare silken inches that lay above her stockings. As he loosened her garters one by one, she drew in a quick breath against his mouth.

He was more adept than she was. Slower, too. Within moments she was rising on her tiptoes and arching against the most intimate part of him. And yet, in her fury to undress him, while he kissed her, she suddenly seemed to forget her own pleasure. She fumbled with his buttons, tugged at his shirt without managing to remove it, and nearly ripped the cuff links from his wrists.

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