Chapter Eight
CHAPTER EIGHT
Josie could hardly believe it. She’d had afternoon tea with Mathilda Westcott!
It was the craziest thing. This whole trip so far had been mind-boggling. Surely now it would settle down into something that more closely resembled her normal life, wouldn’t it? But then there she and Malcolm were, all cozy on River Star , a fire crackling away in the mini woodstove in the corner, music playing on the portable speaker, and the two of them wedged in close on the built-in benches on two sides of the small dining table. Papers and plans were spread out around them as they worked out who to call and what steps to take.
Cleaning, painting, decorating, and furnishing. Maybe a group could go shopping for supplies while another painted and yet another cleaned ahead of them. That would be the fastest route.
Fiona and Alice had both agreed to come by in the morning and head over to the cottages with them to take a look at the garden and the furnishings.
It was so sweet listening to him talk to his sisters. He obviously cared about them both very much, and in the same way that he and his grandmother had teased each other, he and his sisters teased each other, too, but always with a smile and laughter and a foundation of unconditional love and respect. She felt that between all of the Sullivans. It was the same relationship she had with her mother. The same relationship that she’d envisioned for herself and the family she had once planned to have.
Throughout the evening, even though his attention should have been elsewhere as he spoke on the phone, she couldn’t help but feel that he was looking at her differently than he had before. A little longer. A little deeper. Sometimes she even thought she saw his gaze lower to her lips, as though he was thinking about kissing her.
Just the thought of it made her own lips tingle. That first time had been her first kiss, and she remembered it vividly. Remembered how it had felt. And now she couldn’t seem to stop wondering what would it be like to kiss him again. As an adult instead of an awkward teenage girl.
Not that she didn’t feel awkward around him, because the truth was she often did. Especially when he was looking at her this way. She dropped her gaze to their notes and pretended to be busily looking at them, even though the words were swimming before her eyes.
You could kiss him , said the voice inside her head.
The thought startled her. Well, it was true that she didn’t need to wait around for him to kiss her. This was the twenty-first century after all, and she was just as empowered as he was to make the first move, but it was still a surprising bend for her mind to take. Wouldn’t she be setting herself up for heartache if she kissed him?
How could she have forgotten her vow? No men. No men meant No. Men. How difficult was that for her heart—and her body—to understand? It was safer this way. It was easier just to go about her life knowing that she wasn’t risking any further emotional entanglements with a guy.
Just one kiss. What could that possibly hurt?
She was still fighting an internal battle with herself when he scooted up out of the seat. “I’m going to put another log on to keep us warm.”
She knew another way they could stay warm, her brain now running off before she could stop it. Her cheeks flushed, as though he could hear what she was thinking. “That’s a good idea.”
He was still up feeding the fire when a song from high school came on that she hadn’t heard in a very long time—Pink’s “Get the Party Started.” As the killer beat snuck right into her very being, her feet began to tap.
“I can’t believe you have this on your playlist,” she said.
He’d connected his phone to the wireless speaker, and they’d been listening to his playlist throughout the evening.
“Of course I do,” he said with a smile that was so inherently sexy it warmed her all over. “This is a classic.”
She laughed. “I’m not sure many people would agree with you on that one. Although the truth is, every time I hear this song, I can’t stop myself from dancing.”
He shot her a look tinged with a hint of challenge. “So what’s stopping you tonight?”
She’d never been able to resist a challenge. And her hips were swaying beneath the table.
What the heck. They were just friends, right? And with any friend, she would have jumped up and danced without caring what she looked like or whether she seemed foolish. She just would have had fun.
She scooted out off the bench and let her body move to the music. Of course she had to sing along too. Who wouldn’t? The next thing she knew, they were both dancing in the middle of the tiny living room of his houseboat. He cranked up the music, and they laughed as they shimmied around each other, bumping hips every once in a while, no different than she would have with a girlfriend.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
She grabbed a whisk and pretended it was a mic. He did the same with a slotted spoon. They sang to each other as they danced. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun.
She was out of breath when the song ended, and a new one started to play. From fast and rocking to slow and crooning. “Fallin” by Alicia Keys.
“Oh, I love this one too,” she said, closing her eyes and swaying in place.
Then, suddenly, she was in Malcolm’s arms. And hers were going around his neck, his around her hips, and they were moving together, slow dancing. A song about falling, keeping on falling for the same man.
Was that what she was doing? Falling for Malcolm all over again?
She heard him whisper her name into her hair, felt his arms tighten around her, and she drew back so that she could look into his eyes. And then they were kissing, his mouth on hers, hers on his. Both of them moving at the same time, their kiss as perfectly in sync as their dance. He tasted like the Baileys and cream they’d been sipping, the hint of chocolate from a box of truffles he’d had in the kitchen still on his tongue. But that wasn’t why he tasted so delicious. No, that was all Malcolm Sullivan himself.
She thought his kiss had been mind-blowing as a teenager. But the way she felt now? Well, she could never remember feeling this way before. Not with anyone. The way he was taking his time to taste. To tempt. To tease. And then to take. Take everything that she couldn’t help but want to give him. Her body melted into his. Her hands threaded up into his hair as she tried to get even closer.
So close. She wanted to be so close to him.
Somewhere in the back of her head, that little voice that had been egging her on before was cheering. But there was another voice. A voice that was getting louder and louder.
Just exactly what do you think you’re doing? Just exactly how does this kiss fit into your no-men vow?
And yet, even that voice couldn’t stop her from wanting more, from kissing him back just as deeply as he was kissing her. She heard someone moan softly, and realized it was herself.
And then his phone rang. Loud and jarring and breaking the moment into pieces. Shattering the sensual haze that had taken her over.
She pulled back. “You should answer that.” Her words came out all breathy, almost as though she was panting to try to get them out. “It might be important.” She pushed out of his arms, stumbled back into the galley. The River Star had never felt so small. He was everywhere, filling the space. She could feel his heat, smell his skin. It was too much.
“Josie—” His voice was low, thrumming with a desire that she also felt.
She didn’t want to hear what he had to say. She didn’t even know her own mind right now, so getting into a conversation about the kiss they’d just shared was a bad idea. “I think the jet lag has really kicked in. I should go to bed. Good night.”
She dashed out of the room before he could persuade her to stay. Before she could give in to the urge to throw herself back into his arms, to put her mouth against his, and kiss and kiss and kiss him until she couldn’t remember all the reasons why she shouldn’t.
But even as she brushed her teeth and changed into her pajamas in record time, then slipped beneath the covers to block out the sound of his voice, she could still hear him whispering her name. Josie.
The sounds of him moving around in the kitchen and living room reminded her that he was so close, that all it would take was for her to change her mind, and she could experience more sensual pleasure than she’d ever known. That little voice inside her head was calling to her again, asking, Why? Why can’t you just have a fling with Malcolm? Why does sleeping with him have to mean forever?
She’d never thought like that in her life. Never so much as considered a one-night stand or, as the case would be with Malcolm, a two-week stand. She’d always believed she needed to be in a relationship before becoming intimate. She’d always believed that deep feelings were important before she could feel something physical. But she’d had all of those things with her ex—at least, she’d believed she had them, and look how that had turned out. She’d been a fool to believe that emotions and great sex had to go hand in hand. Especially when the truth was that the sex hadn’t been that great. She’d just told herself that was as good as it got. But in the back of her mind, hadn’t she known all along that there was more out there?
Were it not for the fact that jet lag really was finally taking its toll on her after a very long and busy day, who knew what she might’ve done, what that little voice inside her head might have persuaded her to do? But for tonight, sleeping alone in Malcolm’s bed was the only thing left on the menu.
Hopefully, everything else would be much more clear tomorrow.
* * *
That kiss had felt so right. Malcolm was certain it would have led to more—much, much more—if his phone hadn’t rung. Work, of course. How he wished he’d turned it off, but he couldn’t have known that one minute he and Josie would be talking about paint colors, and the next they’d be in each other’s arms, kissing passionately.
He wanted her. Wanted her so badly he had a feeling a cold shower was in his near future. But would that have been the right move? She wasn’t the kind of girl you messed around with. Josie deserved far more than a few hot nights in his bed. And he wasn’t up for more.
At least he never had been before…
His grandmother’s words echoed in his head, suggesting Josie was the woman he’d been waiting for. But he wasn’t certain that was true, and the last thing he wanted was to mess Josie’s emotions about. Again.
So if he wasn’t going to do that, he needed to keep his hands and his mouth off her for the next two weeks. He already knew the self-control it would take was going to come close to breaking even his strong resolve. Especially when they were working and living in such close quarters.
All the while as he cleaned up the kitchen and got ready for bed, he could sense her presence just a few feet away. He couldn’t stop envisioning her in his bed, wondering if she was wearing pajamas or if she had slipped in wearing nothing at all tonight because the houseboat was so warm from the fire in the woodstove.
Each thought made him want her more, made his need ratchet up higher and higher. Already, it was taking every ounce of self-control to leave her be. To get into his small guest bed. To sleep so that he’d be fresh for tomorrow, when they’d meet with his sisters and get to work helping Mari prepare the space for the reading retreat.
But even after a cold shower, every time he tried to sleep, he could taste Josie again, feel her again.
He wanted her again. More than he could ever remember wanting anyone before.