Page 56 of Romance and Peppermint Lattes
“Loving each other is what’s right.”
“I’d like to believe that, but I can’t.” He placed his hand on her cheek and their eyes locked hungrily. He searched her face.
“I love you,” she whispered, smiling up at him. She didn’t want him to question her feelings. She’d say it a thousand times a day if that was what it took to convince him.
Flattening her hands against his hard chest, she leaned into his strength and offered him her mouth. Only moments earlier he’d pushed her away, but not now. His gaze softened and he closed his eyes tightly. He was losing the battle.
It was while his eyes were closed that Maryanne claimed the advantage and kissed him. He moaned and seemed about to argue, but once their mouths met, urgency took hold and Nolan was rendered speechless.
To her delight, he responded with the full-fledged hunger she’d witnessed in his eyes. He slid his hands through her hair, his fingers tangling with the thick auburn mass as he angled her head to one side. Maryanne felt herself savoring the taste of his kiss. It was so long since he’d held her like this, so long since he’d done anything but keep her at arm’s length. She wanted to cherish these moments, delight in the rush of sensations.
So many thoughts crowded her mind. So many ideas. Plans for their future.
He tore his mouth from hers and nestled his face in the hollow of her neck as he drew in several deep breaths.
Maryanne clung to him, hugging him as close as humanly possible. “Nolan—”
“It isn’t going to work—you and me together... it isn’t right,” he whispered.
“It’s more right than anything I’ve ever known.”
“Oh, Annie, the things you do to me.”
She smiled gently. “You know what I think?” She didn’t give him the opportunity to answer. “I love you and you love me and when two people feel that way about each other, they usually—” she paused and swallowed once “—get married.”
“What?”Nolan exploded, leaping away from her as though he’d received an electrical shock.
“You heard me,” she said.
“You’re a crazy woman. You know that, don’t you? Downright certifiable.” Nolan backed away from her, eyes narrowed. He began pacing rapidly in one direction, then another.
“Marriage was just a suggestion,” she said mildly. “I am serious, though, and if you’re at all interested we should move fast. Because once my father gets wind of it there’ll be hell to pay.”
“I have no intention of even considering the idea! In fact, I think it’s time you left.”
“Nolan, okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned marriage. I was just thinking, hoping actually, that it was something you wanted, too. There’s no need to overreact.” He had already ushered her across the living room toward the door. She tried to redirect his efforts, turning in his arms, but he wouldn’t allow it.
“We need to talk about this,” she insisted.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said, opening the door and steering her into the hallway. “Your idea of talking doesn’t seem to coincide with mine. Before I figure out how it happens, you’re in my arms and we’re—”
“Maryanne!” Her father’s voice came like a high-intensity foghorn from behind her.
Maryanne whirled around to discover both her parents standing in the hallway outside her apartment door. “Mom... Dad...” Frantic, she looked at Nolan, hoping he’d do the explaining part.
“Mr. and Mrs. Simpson,” Nolan said formally, straightening. He removed his arms from around Maryanne, stepped forward and held out his hand to her father. “I’m Nolan Adams.”
“How do you do?” Muriel Simpson said in a brittle voice as the two men exchanged brief handshakes. Her mother’stroubled gaze moved from the men to Maryanne, surveying her attire with a single devastating look.
Until that moment, Maryanne had forgotten she was still in her pyjamas. She closed her eyes and groaned.
“Samuel,” Muriel Simpson said in a shocked voice. “Maryanne’s coming out of... his apartment.”
“It’s not what it looks like,” Maryanne rushed to tell them. “Mom and Dad, please, you’ve got to listen to me. I didn’t spend the night at Nolan’s, honest. We just happened to get into a tiff this morning and instead of shouting through the walls and—”
“Samuel.” Her mother reached for her father’s sleeve, gripping it hard. “I feel faint.”
Samuel Simpson clamped his arm about his wife’s waist and with Nolan’s assistance led her through his open apartment door. Maryanne hurried ahead of them to rearrange pillows on the sofa.
