Not a Marrying Man (15 page)

Maybe he’d be able to last another three weeks, but he seriously doubted it.

‘Is anything wrong, Warwick? ‘

Max’s query snapped him out of his increasingly dark thoughts. ‘No. Why?’

‘You were looking a bit bleak there.’

‘What does bleak mean, Daddy?’ Jasmine asked.

‘It means sad.’

‘Are you sad, Uncle Wawie? ‘

‘I think I just need to eat,’ Warwick said by way of an excuse. ‘This is great wine but it packs a powerful punch.’

‘Well, the meat’s just about done. And not at all burnt, missie,’ Max added, giving his little girl a narrowed-eyed glare.

She just giggled.

‘Tara!’ he called out. ‘How’s that salad coming along?’

‘Everything’s on the table, waiting for you,’ she called back.

‘In that case, the meat is on its way. And so are we! Stevie, go wash your hands. Lunch is ready.’

‘I
T’S
been a lovely day,’ Amber said to Tara shortly after four-thirty. They were alone in the kitchen, the men having taken the children for a walk along the beach. ‘Thank you so much for inviting us.’

Tara straightened up from where she’d been stacking the dishwasher. ‘Thank
you
for coming,’ she said. ‘It’s not often we entertain these days. Other than family, that is. Children have a way of putting a stop to your social life. Not that I mind. I like being a homebody.’

‘And Max?’ Amber asked. ‘Does he mind?’

Tara smiled a soft smile. ‘I used to worry that he’d miss the jet-setting lifestyle he had before we got married. But he doesn’t. Of course we do still travel quite a bit. But it’s always as a family. Max never goes alone any more.’

‘You both do seem very happy.’

‘We are. And you, Amber? Are you happy with Warwick?’

Amber almost confided in her. But only almost.

‘Very,’ she said, and forced a smile to her mouth.

‘Do you think you might get married at some stage?’

Amber decided not to carry her lies too far. ‘Warwick’s not keen on marriage.’

‘Um. Yes, so I heard.’

‘From whom? ‘

‘Kate.’

‘What did she say, exactly?’

Tara pulled a face. ‘I don’t think I can repeat it.’

‘As bad as that, eh? ‘

‘Look, men can change,’ Tara said kindly. ‘When I first met Max, he told me marriage wasn’t on his agenda. At the time, he was in charge of over a dozen international hotels and spent half his life on planes.’

‘So what changed him? From what I can see he’s the perfect family man.’

Tara’s laugh was soft and melodic. ‘Having little Stevie changed him.’

Amber’s heart sank. ‘Unfortunately, Warwick doesn’t want children any more than he wants marriage.’

‘A lot of men say that, till they have them. Max said he didn’t want children either, but when I fell pregnant he soon changed his mind and asked me to marry him.’

‘That’s because he loves you.’

Tara frowned at Amber. ‘You don’t think Warwick loves you?’

Amber bit her bottom lip. Now she’d done it. ‘Well, I … er … he’s never said that he does.’

‘That doesn’t mean anything much with men like Warwick. I can see what type he is.’

‘What type is that?’

‘Reserved and a bit uptight. You know, typically British.’

Amber had to laugh. ‘Warwick’s not at all like that. He’s the most impulsive, reckless, crazy man I’ve ever met.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really!’

‘Heavens, I would never have guessed. He seems so … conservative. How is he in bed? Or shouldn’t I ask?’

Amber flushed. ‘I have no complaints.’

Tara laughed. ‘Now who’s being reserved and uptight?’

Amber laughed as well.

‘Man, but it’s getting nippy out there!’

Amber swung slowly round on the kitchen stool at the sound of Max’s voice. He was standing on the mat just inside the sliding glass door, wiping his feet and rubbing his hands vigorously together. Warwick was still outside on the terrace, Amber saw, brushing the sand down from Jasmine’s clothes. When Stevie followed his father inside, Max took his son’s hand and led the boy over to his mother.

‘You should have seen the sandcastle Warwick and Stevie built together,’ Max told Tara. ‘It even had a moat.’

‘I used a cuttlefish bone I found as a drawbridge,’ Stevie added proudly.

‘What a clever boy you are,’ Tara said.

Stevie beamed with pleasure at his mother’s compliment. ‘Uncle Warwick said he’d help me build another one soon.’

‘That’s kind of him,’ Tara replied. ‘But not right now. Now, it’s bath time.’

‘And time we went home,’ Warwick said as he came inside, carrying Jasmine.

‘I don’t want Uncle Wawie to go home,’ Jasmine said with her by-now-familiar pout.

‘I don’t want to either, sweetie,’ he said. ‘But Aunty Amber has a broken ankle and gets tired easily. I should take her home and put her to bed.’

‘She has to have a bath first,’ Jasmine pointed out.

‘She had a shower this morning.’

‘Mummy won’t let us have showers,’ Jasmine said. ‘Not till we’re older.’

‘Baths are much better,’ Stevie piped up. ‘You can play in the bath.’

‘Here, I’ll take Jasmine,’ Tara said, and took Jasmine out of Warwick’s arms. ‘Max, you give Warwick a hand with getting Amber down those front steps, will you? Sorry to love you and leave you. But these two darlings are very much children of routine. Get out of it and it’s bedlam.’

Was it fate that Max should accompany them outside?

Whatever, it was certainly Max who said the fatal words that put the idea into Amber’s head.

‘Thanks for your help with the kids, Warwick,’ Max said as both men helped Amber down the steps. ‘You were incredibly patient with Jasmine. You know, you’d make a great father.’

Warwick said something offhand in return but Amber didn’t quite catch it. Her mind was already elsewhere.

Warwick
would
make a great father, she’d begun thinking. She too had noticed how good he was with Max’s kids, especially Jasmine. His patience and gentleness had surprised her.

Okay, so he was wary of fatherhood. Probably because of his own neglectful father, plus the abandonment of his mother. He hadn’t exactly had good examples of parenthood.

But basically he was an honorable man, despite the rather decadent life he’d chosen to live so far. A decent man: look how he’d stayed to look after her.
And
he’d kept his hands off as promised.

But he wouldn’t, if she gave him the green light. He’d
pretty well admitted the other night that celibacy was proving difficult. A highly sexed man like Warwick wouldn’t take much seducing, provided she could convince him that all she wanted from him was sex. That might be a bit tricky, but she’d think of something.

Of course, he had no idea she’d gone off the pill. She hadn’t told him. There’d been no reason to. If they went to bed, he would not imagine for one moment that she’d be trying to conceive his child.

Heavens, just the thought of doing such a bold thing took her breath away!

‘Something wrong?’ Warwick asked.

‘What?’ Only then did Amber realise they were on the road driving home. She couldn’t even remember saying goodbye to Max.

‘You made a sort of gasping sound. Like you’d had a fright.’

‘Oh, that,’ she said. ‘I moved my foot and it hurt.’

‘You’ve done too much today,’ he chided, though gently. ‘You should have let me bring the walking frame.’

‘Warwick, don’t fuss. I’m fine. It was just a twinge.’

‘It sounded like more than that.’

‘I’ll take some painkillers when I get home.’

How was she going to seduce the man when he thought she was in pain?

Yet she would have to seduce him if she wanted to have his baby. And she did—more than anything else in the world. So why shouldn’t she try to make it happen? Why should she lose
everything?
And who knew? If she was successful, if falling pregnant became a reality, Warwick just might do a Max and change his mind about marriage and children. He might even realise he loved her after all.

There again, he might not. Which meant she would have to raise his child all by herself.

It was a possibility that had to be faced.

Her mother would be furious with her. But Aunt Kate would have understood. Amber knew all about the baby Aunt Kate had once conceived and which she’d terminated when the father of the child became abusive to her. Even so, the poor woman had always regretted what she’d done. She’d once told Amber that if
she
became pregnant when she was still single, she should keep her child, no matter what. Kate’d said she would help her if the father wouldn’t.

Well, Aunt Kate had already helped her, hadn’t she? She’d left Amber her lovely house and her car. And a legacy of self-esteem and independent thinking.

I can do this, Amber decided by the time they arrived back at the B & B. I
have
to do this. It’s not wrong, it’s right. For both of us.

W
ARWICK
parked the Astra as close as possible to the back porch, unlocking and opening the back door of the house before returning to the car to help Amber out.

‘If you don’t object,’ he said, ‘it will be much quicker if I carry you inside.’

Surprise flickered in her big blue eyes. Surprise … and something else.

Damn, but he could usually read her like a book. This time, however, her thoughts remained hidden to him. She’d been very quiet since leaving Max’s house. Clearly, her ankle was aching badly, which was another reason for him to carry her inside.

‘I suppose it’s all right,’ she said with a resigned-sounding sigh.

‘Trust me, I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t necessary,’ he ground out as he scooped her up into his arms.

Masochism had never been his style. Till these last three weeks, that was. Living with Amber on a platonic basis was masochism in the extreme. Holding her close like this was the icing on the cake of his self torture.

Warwick swallowed hard when her arms tightened around his neck, bringing his head forward slightly and pressing his nose and mouth against the fragrant softness of her hair. She smelled wonderful,
felt
wonderful.
His own arms tightened around her, his resolve not to make love to her wavering in the face of emotions that carried even more temptation than the fact that he was fiercely frustrated.

It wasn’t the need for sex that would be his downfall, Warwick realised as he carried her inside. There were other feelings—other needs—much more powerful, the main one being the need to see her eyes light up with desire for him one last time.

‘Amber,’ he said, grinding to a halt in the hallway outside her bedroom door.

Her eyes lifted to gaze up at him. ‘What? ‘

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘Sorry for what?’

‘For this …’

The moment his lips crashed down on hers, something happened inside Warwick, something he’d never experienced before. His heart felt as if it had exploded, a hot mushroom cloud of emotion bursting up through his chest and into his head, leaving him feeling dizzy and disorientated.

But as the kissing continued it wasn’t long before Warwick’s responses changed from the emotional to the physical. Desire kicked in, fierce and urgent, his tongue diving deep into her gasping mouth till he had to wrench his mouth away and drag in a badly needed lungful of air.

‘Don’t tell me to stop,’ he bit out harshly.

She didn’t say a single word. Maybe she couldn’t. She looked stunned.

He didn’t wait. He carried her up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Once in his bedroom he laid her down on the bed before gathering her back up into his
arms and kissing her over and over till he was sure she wouldn’t change her mind and say no.

Only then did Warwick start to undress her, confident enough by then to take his time. Which was what he’d always liked to do with her. Take his time.

Slowly, gently, he removed her cardigan, then the rest of her clothes till she lay there in nothing but her impossibly sexy underwear, and that most unattractive boot.

‘You won’t be needing this on for a while,’ he said as he undid the straps, carefully easing the boot off her foot.

‘Am I hurting you?’ he asked, glancing up at her face.

‘No,’ she replied.

And in truth he couldn’t see any pain in her eyes. Just the most beguiling excitement.

‘Please don’t talk,’ she suddenly choked out.

Her request startled him, then worried him. Underneath her obvious excitement, was she upset over doing this?

Yes, of course she was, he accepted. But it was too late now, way too late.

Once the boot was removed, he took her hands and pulled her up into a sitting position so that he could undo her bra. Her shoulders stiffened once the fastener gave way, a shiver running down her spine as he slowly pushed the bra straps down her arms. He doubted it was a shiver from being chilled. He’d left the heating on all day, not wanting to return to a cold house.

No, it was a shiver of erotic anticipation.

Once the bra was dispensed with, he ran a fingertip up and down her spine, building on the delicious tension he could feel in her body. When a more fierce
shudder ran through her he eased her back onto the bed, arranging pillows behind her head till she looked comfortable.

The temptation to play with her beautiful breasts was acute. But he didn’t want to do that just yet, not whilst he was still dressed. He wanted to be ready when she was ready. Which he suspected would not be far off if he kept up the foreplay. Her eyes were clinging to his the way they often did when she was hopelessly turned on.

Leaving her panties in place—to have her lying before him totally nude at this stage would be a mistake—he set about slowly undressing himself, using the time away from touching her to regain some control over his own wildly clamouring flesh. Maybe her ankle wasn’t giving her any pain, but some parts of
his
body certainly were. Women didn’t realise just how uncomfortable some erections could be. The one he had at this moment was nothing short of cruel. It was to be hoped that it didn’t look as angry as it felt. He didn’t want to frighten her.