Page 24 of Romance and Peppermint Lattes
“Different?” To Maryanne’s way of thinking, she had more in common with Nolan Adams than with any other man she’d ever dated.
“That’s right. You come from this rich upstanding family—”
“Stop!” she cried. “Don’t say another word about our economic differences. They’re irrelevant. If you’re looking for excuses, find something else.”
“I don’t need excuses. It’d never work between us and I want to make sure neither of us is ever tempted to try. If you want someone to teach you about being a woman, go elsewhere.”
His words were like a slap in the face. “Naturally a man of your vast romantic experience gets plenty of requests.” She turned away, so angry she couldn’t keep still. “As for being afraid I might fall in love with you, let me assure you right now that there’s absolutely no chance of it. In fact, I think you should be more concerned about falling for me!” Her voice was gaining strength and conviction with every word. The man had such colossal nerve. At one time she might have found herself attracted to him, but that possibility had disappeared the minute he walked in her door and opened his mouth.
“Don’t kid yourself,” he argued. “You’re halfway in love with me already. I can see it in your eyes.”
Carol had said something about her eyes revealing what she felt for Nolan, too.
Maryanne whirled around, intent on composing a suitably sarcastic retort, away from his searching gaze. But before any mocking words could pass her lips, a sharp pain shot through her neck, an ache so intense it brought immediate tears to her eyes. She must have moved too quickly, too carelessly.
Her hands flew to the back of her neck.
Nolan was instantly on his feet. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she mumbled, easing her way back to the sofa. She sat down, hand still pressed to her neck, waiting a moment before slowly rotating her head, wanting to test the extent of her injury. Quickly, she realized her mistake.
“Annie,” Nolan demanded, kneeling in front of her, “what is it?”
“I... don’t know. I moved wrong, I guess.”
His hands replaced hers. “You’ve got a crick in your neck?”
“If I do, it’s all your fault. You say the most ridiculous things.”
“I know.” His voice was as gentle as his hands. He began to knead softly, his fingers tenderly massaging the tight muscles.
“I’m all right.”
“Of course you are,” he whispered. “Just close your eyes and relax.”
“I can’t.” How could he possibly expect her to do that when he was so close, so warm and sensual? He was fast making a lie of all her protestations.
“Yes, you can,” he said, his voice low and seductive. He leaned over her, his face, his lips, scant inches from hers. His hands were working the tightness from her neck and shoulders and at the same time creating a dizzying heated sensation that extended to the tips of her fingers and the soles of her feet.
She sighed and clasped his wrist with both hands, wanting to stop him before she made a fool of herself by swaying toward him or doing something equally suggestive. “I think you should stop. Let me rephrase that. Iknowyou should stop.”
“I know I should, too,” he admitted quietly. “Remember what I said earlier?”
“You mean the hands-off policy?”
“Yes.” She could hardly hear him. “Let’s delay it for a day—what do you think?”
At that moment, clear organized thought was something of a problem. “Wh-whatever you feel is best.”
“Oh, I know what’s best,” he whispered. “Unfortunately that doesn’t seem to make a damn bit of difference right now.”
She wasn’t sure exactly when it happened, but her hands seemed to have left his wrists and were splayed across the front of his T-shirt. His chest felt rigid and muscular; his heart beneathher palms pounded hard and fast. She wondered if her own pulse was keeping time with his.
With infinite slowness, Nolan lowered his mouth to hers. Maryanne’s eyes drifted closed of their own accord and she moaned, holding back a small cry of welcome. His touch was even more compelling than she remembered. Nolan must have felt something similar, because his groan followed, an echo of hers.
He kissed her again and again. Maryanne wanted more, but he resisted giving in to her desires—or his own. It was as if he’d decided a few kisses were of little consequence and wouldn’t seriously affect either one of them.
Wrong.Maryanne wanted to shout it at him, but couldn’t.
