Chapter Seven #3
After a long hot shower, she put on her flannel pyjamas and unfolded her bed, climbing quickly beneath the covers. She’d turned the television on for company and prepared herself a mug of soup. As she took her first sip, she heard someone knock at her door.
“Who is it?” she called out.
“Nolan.”
“I’m in bed,” she shouted.
“You’ve seen me in my robe. It’s only fair I see you in yours,” he yelled back.
Maryanne tossed aside her covers and sat up. “Go away.”
A sharp pounding noise came from the floor, followed by an equally loud roar that proclaimed it time for “Jeopardy.” Apparently Maryanne’s shouting match with Nolan was disrupting Mrs. McBride’s favorite television show.
“Sorry.” Maryanne cupped her hands over her mouth and yelled at the hardwood floor.
“Are you going to let me in, or do I have to get the passkey?” Nolan demanded.
Groaning, Maryanne shuffled across the floor in her giant fuzzy slippers and turned the lock. “Yes?” she asked with exaggerated patience.
For the longest moment, Nolan said nothing. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his beige raincoat. “How are you?”
Maryanne glared at him with all the indignation she could muster, which at the moment was considerable. “Do you mean to say you practically pounded down my door to ask me that?”
He didn’t bother to answer, but walked into her apartment as though he had every right to do so. “Barbara phoned me.”
“Oh, brother! And what exactly did she say?” She continued to hold open the door, hoping he’d get the hint and leave.
“That you caught my bug.” His voice was rough with ill-disguised worry.
“Wrong. I felt a bit under the weather earlier, but I’m fine now.” The last thing she wanted Nolan motivated by was guilt. He’d succeeded in keeping his distance up to now; if he decided to see her, she wanted to be sure his visit wasn’t prompted by an overactive sense of responsibility.
“You look…”
“Yes?” she prompted.
His gaze skimmed her, from slightly damp hair to large fuzzy feet. “Fine,” he answered softly.
“As you can see I’m really not sick, so you needn’t concern yourself.”
Her words were followed by a lengthy silence. Nolan turned as though to leave. Maryanne should have felt relieved to see him go, instead, she experienced the strangest sensation of loss. She longed to reach out a hand, ask him to stay, but she didn’t have the courage.
She brushed the hair from her face and smiled, even though it was difficult to put on a carefree facade.
“I’ll stop by in the morning and see how you’re doing,” Nolan said, hovering by the threshold.
“That won’t be necessary.”
He frowned. “When did you get so prickly?”
“When did you get so caring?” The words nearly caught in her throat and escaped on a whisper.
“I do care about you,” he said.
“Oh, sure, the same way you’d care about an annoying younger sister.
Believe me, Nolan, your message came through loud and clear.
I’m not your type. Fine, I can accept that, because you’re not my type, either.
” She didn’t really think she had a type, but it sounded philosophical and went a long way toward salving her badly bruised ego.
Nolan couldn’t have made his views toward her any plainer had he rented a billboard.
He’d even said he’d taken one look at her and immediately thought, “Here comes trouble.”
She’d never been more attracted to a man in her life, and here she was, standing in front of him lying through her teeth rather than admit how she truly felt.
“So I’m not your type, either?” he asked, almost in a whisper.
Maryanne’s heartbeat quickened. He studied her as intently as she studied him. He gazed at her mouth, then slipped his hand behind her neck and slowly, so very slowly, lowered his lips to hers.
He paused, their mouths a scant inch apart.
He seemed to be waiting for her to pull away, withdraw from him.
Everything inside her told her to do exactly that.
He was only trying to humiliate her, wasn’t he?
Trying to prove how powerful her attraction to him was, how easily he could bend her will to his own.
And she was letting him.
Her heart was beating so furiously her body seemed to rock with the sheer force of it. Every throb seemed to drive her directly into his arms, right where she longed to be. She placed her palms against his chest and sighed as his mouth met hers. The touch of his lips felt warm and soft. And right.
His hand cradled her neck while his lips continued to move over hers in the gentlest explorations, as though he feared she was too delicate to kiss the way he wanted.
Gradually his hands slipped to her shoulders. He drew a ragged breath, then put his head back as he stared up at the ceiling. He exhaled slowly, deliberately.
It took all the restraint Maryanne possessed not to ask him why he was stopping.
She wanted these incredible sensations to continue.
She longed to explore the feelings his kiss produced and the complex responses she experienced deep within her body.
Her pulse hammered erratically as she tried to control her breathing.
“Okay, now we’ve got that settled, I’ll leave.” He backed away from her.
“Got what settled?” she asked swiftly, then realized she was only making a bigger fool of herself. Naturally he was talking about the reason for this impromptu visit, which had been her health. Hadn’t it? “Oh, I see.”
“I don’t think you do,” Nolan said enigmatically. He turned and walked away.