Talking Sense (6 page)

Desire rushed through her, and she groaned. In response, his arms slid around her and tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to pull her against him and let her know just how turned on he was and how much he wanted her. She moved her hands up to touch his face, her fingers scratching against his stubble, and then she slipped them into his thick brown hair, enjoying his answering shudder.

One of his hands slid into the middle of her back to hold her against him, but it didn’t descend any lower and grope her butt, nor did he grab her breasts or do anything inappropriate. Which she was kind of disappointed about, because her nipples throbbed as she raised herself on tiptoes so the impressive bulge in his pants sank gratifyingly into her soft mound, and her breasts hungered for his large hands to squeeze them.

But instead of taking advantage, he stroked her back and waist, ran his fingers lightly along her rib cage, brushed the nape of her neck and sent shivers running through her. He tasted sweet and smelled heavenly, like essence of man, overtaking her senses with an overwhelming intensity she hadn’t expected.

It was possibly the nicest, politest, friendliest, and yet somehow most erotic kiss she’d ever had, and when he finally pulled away, she was breathless with longing and aching with need.

He stepped back and ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” she said vehemently. “My God, you kiss like a king.”

He chuckled at that. “And you like a very sexy princess.” Reaching out, he brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek. “Happy birthday, Mia.”

“Thank you. That was the best present I received today.” The surprising thing was that she meant it. When she’d asked him to kiss her, she’d wondered if he’d deliver a half-arsed snog that would hopefully prove to her she’d somehow gone mysteriously astray in thinking of him in a sexual context.

But the opposite had happened. He hadn’t been clumsy and knocked her teeth or bumped noses. Instead, he’d kissed her expertly with just the right amount of forcefulness, refusing to let her go until he was ready, and setting her alight with a burn of passion she hadn’t expected or known how to react to.

Clearly, Colm the Celt was a god in the bedroom.

Oh dear. How inconvenient.

He put his glasses back on and took his coat from the hook again, and gave her one last, impish smile. “See you Monday.”

“Bye.”

And then he was gone.

She shut the door behind him. Perhaps she should have asked him to stay.

No, she shouldn’t.

Should she?

She groaned, went into the living room and flopped onto the sofa, wincing as pain stabbed through her shoulders. For a moment she’d forgotten about it, which was a miracle in itself. He’d proved a welcome distraction when she’d needed some light entertainment and comfort, and for that she would be forever grateful.

But he was going back to Ireland at the end of the year—there was no way an affair with him could end happily. It was best if she kept her distance.

The idea was sound. Unfortunately, for the rest of the evening—and most of the following week—she’d be unable to stop thinking of the feel of his lips on hers and the rather remarkable erection he’d pressed against her.

“He what?”

In spite of the fact that she was over seven thousand miles away in South America, Freya’s voice came through the telephone clear as a very loud bell.

“Kissed me,” Mia said, beginning to wonder if she’d done the right thing telling Freya about it. It was Sunday morning, and she sat on a stool at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. “To, you know, say happy birthday and that.”

“Happy birthday. With tongues?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Jeez.” 

Mia could almost hear the grin that accompanied Freya’s words. “It was just a bit of fun,” she protested. “We’d been watching
Doctor Who
and I felt all comfortable and relaxed.”

“Doctor…what? How…? Look, never mind. The important thing is that lips met.”

“It didn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah. That’s what Grace said about Ash, and that’s what I said about Nate. And look at both of us.”

Mia rolled her eyes. “Yes but both of you slept with your fellas. Colm and I just kissed.”

“Same principle.”

“It’s absolutely not the same principle at all. A snog isn’t the same as bumping uglies in the slightest.”

“You don’t want to sleep with him?”

“No. No! Okay, a little bit.”

Freya snorted. “Thought so. He’s pretty cute.” She’d met Colm before she left with Nate on their round-the-world trip.

“He’s very nice,” Mia accepted.

“If by that bland word you mean sex-on-legs, then yes.”

“No, I don’t fancy him really.”

“Mia, what a load of tosh, of course you fancy him. If you didn’t fancy him we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Mia sighed. She did fancy him—that was part of the problem. She hadn’t expected to.

“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” Freya said, as if she’d read her thoughts. “You could just have sex.”

Now Mia was confused. “What? I just told you it didn’t mean anything and you disagreed.”

“I…well, I meant…look, don’t over-think it.”

“I’m really not. Colm sexy. Me likey. That’s about as complicated as it gets.”

Freya sighed. “So what’s the problem?”

“He’s going back to Ireland at Christmas.”

“It’s only October.”

“Yes but…Freya, are you being purposefully dense? I don’t want to get involved if he’s going to bail in two months’ time.”

The phone fell silent after that.

“Freya?”

“Yeah, I’m still here. Sorry, I don’t know what to say. Except, well, Ireland’s only twenty-four hours away. It’s not the other end of the universe.”

“I went out with Michael in Dunedin,” Mia pointed out. “It took two hours to fly to there, and that was a nightmare. I couldn’t carry on a relationship from the other side of the world.”

“That wasn’t quite what I was suggesting,” Freya said, sounding amused. “Look, you like the guy, he fancies you—why don’t you just take the opportunity of some free sex before he goes? You won’t fall for him if you know the relationship has a use-by date.”

“Don’t I seem to remember you telling me those very words when you had sex with Nate?”

“Um, yeah. Just don’t go into Grace’s kitchen with him, that’s all I’m going to say.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Freya sighed. “I’ve got to go. The bus has just pulled up.”

Mia cursed. “I’m so sorry. There’s Nate spiriting you all over the world and taking you up the Amazon and I’m waffling about
Doctor Who
.”

“Taking me up the…what?” Freya repeated the phrase away from the phone before returning. “Nate wants to know if that’s prison slang.” She giggled.

“Tell him not to be so rude,” Mia scolded, grinning. She could just imagine what the inimitable Nate was whispering in his girlfriend’s ear.

“He wants to know if you’d like him to send some healing yet?” Freya said.

Mia rolled her eyes. “Bye, Freya. Take care. Don’t get eaten by any crocodiles.” She hung up.

She dialled Grace and Ash’s number.

Ash answered. “Hello?”

Mia’s eyebrows rose. Ash usually had appointments on Sunday mornings and Grace almost always answered the phone. “Hey, it’s me. Where’s Gracie?”

“Hey, Mia. She’s still in bed.”

Alarm shot through her. “Is she okay?”

“Yes, fine.” His words couldn’t hide the concern in his voice, though. “I made her lie in this morning. She needed a bit of extra rest, that’s all.”

“What’s happened?”

He sighed. “We had an intruder last night. The alarm went off and we found a window smashed. Nothing seems to have been taken or anything, but I’m concerned the security guards didn’t spot anyone.”

An icy-cold finger slid down Mia’s spine. “Was Grace hurt?”

“No, no. Just a bit shaken up.”

“Can I talk to her?”

“Of course. Hold on.”

Mia nibbled her nails and waited for Ash to walk through to the bedroom with the phone. There was a quick, muffled conversation and then he handed the phone to Grace.

“Hey,” Grace said.

“Hey, sweetie. You okay?”

“Fine!” The word was so bright and breezy that Mia knew she was fibbing.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nope.” Grace mumbled something else out of earshot. There was the sound of a door shutting, and then she sighed. “It’s okay, he’s gone.”

“Is he fussing?”

“You wouldn’t believe. He practically tied me to the bed.”

“And you’re complaining?”

“Ha ha. He’s driving me crazy.”

“He’s concerned.”

“Yeah.” Grace fell silent for a moment.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mia asked softly.

Grace cleared her throat. “I was a bit shaken to think the nutjob had got so close to us. I mean, at school, or in town, it doesn’t seem personal, but here… I just freaked a bit that she might have got in the house. I may have yelled a rude word or two.”

“Jeez, it must have been bad.” Grace hardly ever swore.

Grace chuckled. “Come on, cheer me up. Distract me. Tell me about your love life.”

“What love life?”

“Deny it all you like. The Irishman’s going to have you, you know. He had that look.”

Mia blew a raspberry. “What look? There was no look.”

“That ‘I’m going to have her come hell or high water’ look. It was definitely there. I’d watch out if I were you.”

“I told you, he said, ‘You deserve more than a quick fling’.”

Grace laughed. “Yeah, that’ll work. Have you made up your mind?”

“About what?” Mia was growing exasperated at her friends’ refusal to admit nothing was going to happen.

“Going on the course.”

“Ah…” Mia and Colm were booked on a history department course in Auckland on Thursday. They were due to fly up and stay overnight in a motel. Separate rooms, of course, but even so… The temptation made Mia nervous. “I might pretend to be sick.”

“Chicken.”

“I’m not a chicken, I’m…”

“Frustrated?”

“No…”

“A frustrated, aging spinster who’s gagging for it?”

“Grace!” Mia couldn’t help laughing. “You are wicked.”

“Deny it.”

“Which bit?”

“There’s a bit that isn’t true?”

Even though Grace couldn’t see her, Mia stuck her tongue out. “I’m going now.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“I wish you’d start your maternity leave now,” Mia complained.

“Oh God, don’t you start. I need the distraction.”

Mia said goodbye and hung up. She made a cup of coffee and sipped it as she thought over Grace’s words. She could understand the need for distraction. It was strange how her brain refused to think about anything but the sexy Celt and the way his hands had pulled her tightly to him as he kissed her senseless…

Damn it.

Chapter Eight

Colm knew Mia was having a bad day before they even got on the plane.

As soon as he picked up her travel bag to place it in the taxi, the wave of frustration, helplessness and pain she was obviously feeling rolled over him.

He cursed under his breath and squeezed his own bag next to hers. Why did he find it so difficult to keep his defences up around her? He didn’t like receiving this sort of emotional information about friends and family. It made him uncomfortable, and he often ended up putting his foot in it when he commented on how they were feeling and they grew suspicious, as if he was ferreting around in their garbage bins or something.

He’d worked hard to build his psychic barriers so this kind of thing didn’t happen, but for some reason they seemed to disappear around this girl. Her thoughts and emotions jumped out at him whenever he held an object belonging to her. He’d just have to stop picking them up. But that was difficult when he’d been brought up to be polite.

He slid into the back of the taxi next to her and directed the driver to the airport. Then he turned his attention to Mia.

She sat looking out of the window, her hands in her lap. Her spine was stiff, and she had fine lines around her eyes.

They’d hardly spoken over the few days since he’d kissed her on her birthday. School had been busy, and he suspected she was avoiding him. That disappointed him—he’d kissed her because she’d asked him to, and he’d enjoyed it, but he’d made sure at the time that he didn’t mention taking it further. Had she wanted him to? Was that why she was annoyed with him? Or had it just embarrassed her and now she wished it had never happened?

He’d half expected her to announce she’d decided not to go on the course, but when he’d mentioned to her about getting a taxi, she’d agreed to share and had obviously decided to go. Now, however, he got the impression she was regretting it.

Sadness flooded him. He wasn’t expecting their relationship to develop. But he had hoped they could continue the friendship they’d begun.

“You okay?” he asked. “Are you in pain?”

She turned surprised eyes on him and smiled wryly. “How do you always seem to know what I’m feeling?”

“Male intuition,” he said. “Plus you said ‘ouch’ when you got into the taxi.”

She sighed. “It’s not a good day. I kind of wish I’d decided not to go.” Her gaze flicked to his before sliding away. Yes, she was regretting kissing him. Damn it.

“It’s not too late to take you back home,” he said gently. “Although that would be a shame. I enjoy spending time with you, and I’d hoped we could be good friends.”

Her large green eyes came back to his. This time a real smile flickered on her lips. “We did seem to get on well.”

“
Doctor Who
brought us together.”

She laughed. “Yes. Good old Matt Smith.”

“I have a key ring of the TARDIS, you know.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You’re kidding. Show me.”

He did so, and her mood seemed to lift as they chatted about this and that until they reached the airport. Once there, however, he watched her get out of the car and move around the airport stiffly, clearly still in pain. They only had twenty minutes to wait, and he suggested she take some painkillers, but he wasn’t surprised when she refused.