She won’t stay,James Kessler had said.
From the looks of the stuff she’d bought, Michael knew that he no longer had to worry about Libby’s intentions. She was roosting like an old hen sitting a nest.
He was glad. He’d been walking a fine line for two weeks, between being afraid to push her and wanting to get heavy-handed to make her stay. Michael gulped down the rest of his wine and stood up. If the woman wanted to make herself at home, he’d help her do it.
With Trouble, Guardian, and Timid more interested in playing in the empty shopping bags than helping, it took Michael nearly the entire night to finish the job. He washed and folded Libby’s new sheets, set out her towels, put her tablecloth on the kitchen table, tossed her new pillows onto the couch, placed the candles she’d bought in strategic places, and hung the huge print of the moose over the mantel.
And he stuck up every damned one of her glowing stars on every ceiling in the downstairs of the house.
It was just daybreak when he finally crawled into bed, pulling Libby up against his tired body in the hopes of getting a bit of sleep himself.
Aye, he’d done a good job of feathering her nest.
“Are ya going to pretend you’re asleep much longer? ’Cause if ya are, I’m writing to Santa and telling him not to bring ya anything for Christmas.”
Libby now knew where Robbie had picked up the habit of saying’cause all the time.
“Shhh,” she whispered, snuggling against Michael’s warm body. “I’m savoring the fact that you’re still here.”
“I’m still here,” he said thickly. “And damned thankful you are as well. Ya scared me last night, Libby. You were supposed to get here before the storm did.”
Libby finally opened her eyes and found Michael leaning on his elbow, staring down at her with an accusing glare. “My brain’s still a bit foggy, but didn’t we cover this subject last night?”
“In part,” he agreed, rolling over and pinning her in place. “But I think it’s important we go over it again. Libby, ya have to respect the weather and plan your business around it.”
“I thought I had.” She reached up and ran a finger down the side of his face. “I’m sorry I worried you, Michael. I won’t do it again. And I’ll keep the cell phone with me next time.”
He seemed surprised by her apology and a bit suspicious. He kissed her hungrily as he slid his hand under the blanket and found one of her naked breasts.
“Ah… did we… you and I… did we make love last night, Michael?”
He reared back, both brows lifting in question. “Ya don’t remember?” he asked, running a hand over the bump on her head. “You really did take a terrible fall.”
“I remember how you took care of me. But I fell asleep. You… you said you’d wake me up every hour. Did you?”
He let out a sigh that moved her hair. “I think I’ve just been insulted.” He shook his head. “Ya don’t remember anything? Not even telling me where ya’d put the condoms?”
Libby looked at him in horror. “I… we did… you usedall of them? Even the two in my purse?”
She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. Dammit, they’d finally christened her new bed, and she didn’t remember. “Do—do you have any more?” she whispered.
“I might. Why?”
“I thought we could… ah… do it again. I’m wide awake, Michael. I’ll remember this time, I promise.”
“I don’t know,” he said, lifting his gaze to the headboard as if he were thinking about it.
“I’ll probably disappoint ya so badly that you’ll forget again.”
Libby reached up, grabbed his hair, and forced him to look at her. “You’re lying,” she accused, watching him closely. “You didn’t touch me last night.”
His expression turned wounded. “I touched every inch of ya last night, lass,” he whispered gutturally, sending shivers down her spine. “I distinctly remember kissing that cute little birthmark ya have on your left hip.”
Her shivers turned to prickles of heat as erotic visions rose in her mind. Oh, why couldn’
t she remember?
Maybe she did have a concussion.
“Will you kiss it again?” she asked, running her finger down the side of his face, stopping at his mouth and tracing the curve of his bottom lip. “And this one?” she said, pointing to the little mole on her right shoulder. “I’m sure I would have remembered if you had kissed that one. I’m particularly sensitive there.”
His deep pewter eyes lit up, reflecting laughter that finally escaped as he rolled over, taking her with him, until Libby found herself sitting astride his waist.
“Maybe it would work better if you kissed my sensitive places,” he said thickly, lifting his hips, causing Libby to gasp when his erection touched her intimately. “That way, ya might remember.”
“But we used up all the condoms… didn’t we?”
He nodded toward the nightstand, and Libby leaned over and opened the drawer. Four rows of packets sprang out.
The man had stuffed a dozen condoms in her nightstand?
She sat up and looked at him, her own eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Are we expecting company?” she asked softly. “Or are you just optimistic?”
“Now, lass,” he said, rolling them over until she was pinned beneath his body. Shaking with laughter, he said, “I don’t want them at home where Robbie can find them and start asking questions. I swear, that boy has more questions than a whole classroom of kids.”
He smiled, kissed her on the nose, and wiggled his eyebrows. “But I must say he is right about one thing. Ya do have perky breasts, Miss Hart.”
“What?”
Michael kissed her mortified face, letting his lips linger on her scorching cheeks.
“He… Robbie said I have… oh, God,” she hissed, trying to melt into the bed. She pushed Michael’s mouth away and covered her face with the pillow. “I don’t even want to know how the topic of my breasts came up,” she muttered.
Michael pulled the pillow away and threw it onto the floor. “It seems Frankie Boggs thinks small breasts are okay if they’re perky,” he informed her between kisses.
“Who is Frankie Boggs?”
“The class authority on women,” he returned, just as his hands ran up her ribs and covered her perky breasts.
“Being a doctor, maybe you should offer to teach a sex education class at school,” he suggested, sliding his thumbs across both of her nipples.
Libby sucked in her breath and tried to keep up with the conversation. “To—to second-graders?” she squeaked, just as he lowered his head and took one of her nipples in his mouth.
“Shut up, Michael,” she said with a gasp, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him against her. “Just shut up and make love to me.”
He sighed as he moved from one nipple to the other. “If ya insist, lass,” he muttered against her skin. “Just try and pay attention this time.”
She’d pay attention, all right. She also intended to participate.
With slow and tender attention to detail, Michael and Libby finally christened her new bed. They messed up the bed until only the bottom sheet remained, and that was starting to pull from the corners.
In full light, unhurried by worldly obligations, they explored every inch of each other’s body. Libby found more than one sensitive spot on Michael, while he discovered a few more on her.
The foreplay they’d gotten so good at these past two weeks now seemed to last forever, until Libby finally reached over her head and grabbed the hooves of the moose on her headboard. Michael knelt between her thighs, staring down at her with eyes of liquid, swirling metal, sheathed himself in protection, and then slowly lowered his body onto hers.
“Ah, lass, but ya please me,” he whispered, carefully entering her, his mouth covering her moan.
Sensations erupted as Libby felt herself stretching, slowly accepting his gentle invasion.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and closed her eyes, holding on to the headboard as he set a gentle rhythm that rocked her with pleasure.