Page 8 of Storm's Embrace

“You, my good man, have it bad,” he murmured while resting his head back and staring at the ceiling. The chime sounded at the back entrance.

Miriam had left the building.

“And Deidre is not going to be happy when you break things off with her.” It didn’t matter their relationship had already been on the decline since he’d started keeping her at arm’s length—much to her displeasure—but he couldn’t in good conscience let it go any further. It would be leading her on, and that wouldn’t be fair.

He sat forward and stretched up so he could spy over his desk and see out the window behind it to the parking lot. He smiled when Miriam came into view, her dark head bent while she searched through her purse as she made the short trek to her vehicle. He kept his eyes on her until she got in safely.

“And bad might be underestimating,” he grumbled after relaxing back into the cushion when she drove away.

It didn’t help Miriam had no idea what she did to him. She was just being herself—funny, sweet, stubborn, snarky, and so damned sexy it had him on the edge of his sanity and hard at the most inopportune moments.

It made no sense.

It wasn’t like they’d just met. It certainly wasn’t some instant attraction. It had been subtle—something that had gradually built over the past five years before hitting him over the head like an anvil one day a couple of months ago.

It had been a late afternoon and he was at his desk, chuckling over a picture one of his four-year-old patients had drawn of him. The little guy had done a great job. All except for the thermometer he’d portrayed in his hand. It was overly large and the placement was…

He snickered at the memory.

Miriam had walked in just as he was laying it aside.

“Oh, another picture?” she’d asked, smiling at him and coming to the side of his desk to pick it up. She loved the pictures the kids drew of him and had set up a cork board in the waiting room to display them. He’d laughed and told her he thought he might take that one home instead of putting it out for everyone to see. She’d frowned at him, then taken a good look at the drawing—her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline.

He’d stood, laughing, to take it from her at the same time she’d hurriedly bent to lay it back down. She’d bumped into him and had almost stumbled, so he’d grabbed her around the waist.

He’d stopped laughing.

The feel of her under his hands as he’d gently squeezed her soft curves had unexpectedly had him wishing for more. Then their eyes had met, and he’d lowered his head and breathed in the sweet vanilla scent of her hair.

“I didn’t mean to knock into you,” he’d murmured. And God help him, he’d been unable to help himself and had pulled her just that much closer, telling himself he was just steadying her, as they’d stared at each other and her slightly rounded cheeks had filled with pink. Then her quick indrawn breath had brushed her breasts against his chest.

“Um, it’s okay,” she’d said before biting at her full bottom lip and gazing up at him with ever-widening eyes.

He’d never wanted to kiss someone so much in his life. Her lips drew him so close they’d shared a breath. The need to know the feel of those soft lips and her trembling body pressed against him had pushed everything else from his mind—namely where they were.

Then the outer office phone had rung, bringing him out of his haze of need as a slight whimper had left her. So instead of taking her parted lips, he’d cleared his throat and reluctantly dropped his hands before stepping away to keep himself from acting on all his impulsive thoughts.

And Miriam?

Miriam’s face had filled with panic before she’d turned and hurried out of his office without a backward glance. In her wake she’d left a heaping helping of sexual tension. Not to mention one horny man who had sat dumbfounded at his desk and shaken his head at the inexplicable urge to chase her down and see if she tasted as delicious as her sweet breath had promised.

She’d never mentioned the awkward moment and neither had he. But that didn’t mean he didn’t think about it every damned time they were alone together. From her blushes, he had to wonder if she thought about it each time too.

And who knew, maybe it was that almost kiss. But now he found himself paying special attention to her every move. Especially the gentle sway of her curvy hips in those demure skirts she wore every day. Had the fabric always accented her rounded ass? It probably had and he’d just never noticed.

But he was noticing now. And each time he had to clench his fists at the enticement of grabbing her from behind and pulling her against him. He groaned at the thought.

To have all that lusciousness nestling his aching cock would be…

He groaned again. But this one was full of frustration. He had no right to touch her in any kind of sexual way. It wasn’t anything she’d ever encouraged. But it didn’t keep him from torturing himself by standing closer to her than he should just to catch the scent of vanilla that now haunted him. Or from hanging on her every word—even when she was giving him grief.

Then today.

He gave into the urge to stroke over his stiff cock through his jeans.

He’d been standing behind her for at least a minute trying not to laugh while she’d typed and fussed. He’d intended on jokingly giving her a hard time, hoping he could make her laugh just so he could hear that little snort she would let out at the end.

That was until she’d turned her chair and her mouth had beenthisclose to where he’d needed her most. So, instead he’d tensed up. To make matters worse for him, she’d bitten her bottom lip and looked up at him with that wide-eyed, guilty expression, and he’d…

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