Page 69 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

‘Good idea,’ she said. ‘Sorry, I should have seen if I had anything you could wear.’

‘I don’t think I would have fitted into your fluffy pyjamas,’ he said, twinkling at her and sending her heart rate soaring.

Dear God, this man was going to be the death of her.

It had been a battle to get the kids to bed, and at one point Harriet had regretted asking Owen to stay another night. Bobby had wanted to sleep on the sofa with Owen, and Sara was adamant that she didn’t want to go to school and had ended up having a bit of a paddy.

Harriet was at the end of her tether by the time both children were safely tucked up in bed, and she slumped onto the sofa with a groan.

‘I don’t know what’s up with Sara lately,’ she said. ‘She used to love school. I thought she had settled into high school but she keeps telling me she hates it.’

‘Do you think it’s because she’s had a week off?’ Owen asked.

Harriet huffed. ‘I don’t know; she was never like this before. Maybe she’s finding the work too difficult, although there wasn’t any indication of that when I went to the parents’ evening the other week. Her teachers seemed pleased with her progress.’

‘It’s a big leap from primary to secondary school,’ Owen said. ‘I used to love primary, but I wasn’t too keen when I went up to the big school. There were too many new faces, and the whole routine was different. Maybe secondary school was a novelty at first, and now that it’s wearing off, she’s not enjoying it as much?’ he suggested.

‘I hope you’re right. What are you watching?’ She turned her attention to the TV, not wanting to talk about the children any more. She was far too conscious that there was only a foot or so between her and Owen, and she could smell his woody aftershave. His nearness made her feel quite giddy.

‘It’s a documentary about Mars.’

‘Do you like that kind of thing?’

‘I’m interested in anything to do with nature and space, but please watch whatever you want,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to interfere with your routine.’

Too late for that, Harriet thought. ‘By this time on a Sunday evening I’m normally so frazzled I fall asleep in the chair, so I don’t watch anything anyway,’ she said.

‘Don’t let me stop you. If you want to fall asleep, fall asleep.’ He patted his shoulder. ‘I don’t mind being used as a pillow.’

Harriet sensed a sudden change in the atmosphere. It had become charged, sending tingles through her. His eyes scanned her face, rested on her mouth for a moment, then met hers.

This was it, this was crunch time. She could either laugh it off and shuffle away, or she could move closer and let him kiss her.

Scooting closer, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth and gazed deeply into his eyes. The desire she saw in them made her catch her breath, and she let it out in a soft sigh of longing.

It was all the invitation he needed.

With a muffled groan, he reached for her, wrapping his arms around her waist, drawing her towards him. She could feel the tension in his muscles, the solid cage of his arms enclosing her, and his warm breath on her cheek as his mouth came down on hers.

This was no soft, gentle kiss. This was hard and urgent, and his tongue flicked between her open lips, hungry and demanding. She met his desire with equal passion, her hands roaming up and down his back as he buried his fingers in her hair.

Gently, he pulled her head back, breaking the kiss, and for a second she was bereft, but then she felt his lips on her neck and her collarbone, and when his hand slipped underneath her sweatshirt, Harriet nearly melted with desire.

It was Owen who drew away first, and she almost cried out with frustration.

‘Not here,’ he said, his voice ragged and hoarse. ‘It’s too risky.’

She knew it was, but for a fleeting moment she hadn’t cared. She had wanted him, more than she had ever wanted any other man in her life. She still did. She was burning for him, desperate for his touch, wanting him to claim her as utterly and as thoroughly as she knew he would.

But he was right. Not here, not now.

Feeling guilty that she had so nearly got carried away, she sat up and straightened her sweatshirt. Her lips were throbbing, her skin smouldered where his mouth had lingered, and she was trembling – so fired up, she was scared she might burst into flame.

‘You’re beautiful, and I want you so much it hurts,’ he said, stroking the side of her face and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The longing in his eyes nearly undid her again, but she fought it.

It was one of the most difficult things she had ever done – because she now knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was in love.

Chapter 15

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