Marion Lennox - A Special Kind Of Family

She was the loveliest woman.

But she was tired. The smile faltered almost as it appeared. She yawned-and Marilyn yawned in sympathy.

He smiled at the pair of them.

‘Bed,’ he said. ‘Marilyn’s in hers. I’ll carry you to yours.’

‘No need. I can manage.’ She grabbed the crutches he’d found for her and struggled to her feet.

‘No,’ she said as he made a move to help her. ‘Thank you, Dominic,’ she said gently. ‘You’ve been great.’

He didn’t feel great. It nearly killed him to stay still and watch as she struggled out of the room. But somehow he did.

‘Goodnight,’ he said softly, and she turned and smiled.

‘Goodnight, Dom,’ she whispered. ‘And thank you.’

She was gone. The kitchen felt bleak for her going.

Which was nonsense.

He made a desultory effort to clear dishes. He moved Marilyn’s water bowl so she could reach it, and then as she stirred he thought okay maybe it was time, so he picked her up and carried her outside. She was moving herself now, but it filled a need to carry someone.

Erin for preference, but Marilyn was all that was on offer.

So he stood in the cool night air and waited until Marilyn completed her toileting. It was restful out under the stars.

He should feel peaceful.

Hell, he didn’t. Erin was settling into bed right through that window. Erin…

Marilyn was sniffing the grass, licking up the dew, raising her head and smelling new smells. She looked battered and exhausted, yet profoundly grateful for this moment-for the ability to smell the night air before going back to her pups.

‘Life’s okay,’ he said gently, and from the veranda came a response.

‘It looks okay from this angle, too.’

He turned and Erin was watching him from under the porch lights.

She was lovely. Mind-blowingly lovely.

‘You need to be in bed,’ he said, and felt dumb.

‘So do you.’

‘So what’s stopping us?’ He lifted Marilyn again and carried her up the steps. The big dog looked up at him with an expression of something akin to devotion.

‘Hey, don’t look at me like that,’ he told her. ‘Doc Carmody here’s the one who saved you.’

‘And you saved us both.’ Erin smiled at him and there it was again. Gut lurch.

Enough with the dog. Time for a little exercise rehabilitation. The door was open. He set Marilyn down, she waggled her butt and staggered toward the door.

Erin made a sharp move to clear a path but then it was her turn to stagger. She wobbled dangerously on her crutches and Dom made a dive. He caught her shoulders. Her crutches clattered to the floor-and he was left holding her.

‘It’s either one or t’other of us,’ she said, sounding suddenly breathless. ‘Me and Marilyn. Your walking wounded.’

‘Or not walking. You want me to carry you to bed?’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘Why not?’

‘I suspect you know why not,’ she said, with a hint of asperity. ‘You’re too near, you’re too male and you don’t have a wife upstairs as chaperone.’

‘Pity about that.’

‘I’m sure you miss her madly,’ she said, but she didn’t pull away.

‘I don’t need anyone.’ Where had that come from? The situation had been light. Suddenly it was intensely personal.

‘I’m sure you don’t,’ she said softly. ‘Whereas I…I need all sorts of people. So…so when does Tansy come back?’

‘Her daughter had her baby last weekend. Maybe a couple of weeks.’

‘I can’t stay for a couple of weeks.’

‘Of course you can’t.’

‘I should have gone with Charles.’

‘You decided not to.’

‘I did. I wanted to help you.’ She sighed. ‘Fat lot of help I am.’

‘You did help. You are helping.’ His hands stayed on her shoulders. She’d have to pull away if she wanted him to move and she wasn’t pulling. She might even be leaning in.

He tugged her in a little bit further. Nice.

‘Dom, I’m sorry I offloaded onto you,’ she said softly against his chest. ‘It wasn’t fair. You’ve done so much for me, and here I am, keeping you from bed, asking for sympathy when you’ve got so much else on.’

‘I don’t have enough.’

‘What, sympathy?’

‘I’m not sure,’ he said, looking down at her in the moonlight. ‘I suspect sympathy is the least of it.’

‘Me, too,’ she said, unexpectedly-suddenly tentative. ‘There’s not a lot of sympathy happening from where I’m standing. I knew I had to apologise. Now I have. So…so maybe we could move on?’

A thought was occurring. An excellent thought. Maybe shared?

Maybe crazy. Maybe not. Regardless, this was a thought worth airing.

‘So if I were to kiss you…’

And, amazingly, she smiled. And nodded. A decisive little nod. Almost businesslike. ‘It’d probably do us both the world of good. Like a tonic.’

‘A tonic?’ He was losing the thread.

‘Something castor oil-ish. Something to give us both a decent purge. Reassure us we’re okay.’

‘You’re asking me to kiss you or book you in for a colonoscopy?’

‘Take your pick. I’ve imposed on your hospitality. It’s up to you to name the price.’ She grinned and raised her face. She jutted her chin in what he suspected was a gesture of defiance. To whom? To Charles? To her whole history? ‘If it’s not too much trouble.’

‘It’s definitely not too much trouble,’ he said faintly-and then stopped speaking.

He had better things to do.

IT DIDN’T quite work.

He wasn’t holding her tight enough. She slipped a little as their lips met; his mouth brushed hers, too briefly, and the kiss landed off centre.

She pulled back, just a little. ‘Whoops.’

‘Whoops?’ It wasn’t just his kiss that was off centre.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, then eyed him sideways. ‘I’m sorry. I’m strung up tight as a Stradivarius string.’

‘Stradivarius?’

‘Violin. You don’t play?’

‘No.’

‘Thank God for that.’

‘You don’t like violins?’

‘When other people play they’re fine. But my parents dream of me playing when my music talent is more suitable for…I don’t know…bongo drums.’

Funny. Interesting. Excellent dinner-party conversation.

Except they weren’t at a dinner party. They were right here. Right now.

She might seem sure of herself, this woman, but talking violins when there was kissing to be done…that was nerves.

‘Are we getting distracted?’

‘I’m a bit nervous,’ she conceded.

‘Kissing’s much easier than playing a violin,’ he assured her. And before she could think of anything else to say, any other way to distract him-he tugged her tighter. He centred her so this time he couldn’t miss-and he kissed her again.

Better didn’t even begin to describe it. Better, better and better.

You didn’t get to be thirty-five without learning how to kiss, Even though serious relationships weren’t on his agenda, he’d had some very satisfactory frivolous ones-but nothing had prepared him for this. Not for the way she made him feel.

It was like he’d been zapped by an electric charge. If he could see himself in a mirror maybe his hair would be standing on end, he thought with the tiny amount of head room he had available for analysis. Which wasn’t much, and what was available was getting less by the second.

He’d expected a kiss. But this was a…kiss.

From the moment his mouth met hers, nothing was as it had been. Nothing was as it should be.

What was that word? Discombobulated. He’d never used it.

He needed it now.

For his thoughts were whirling, jumbled, out of kilter. His senses were centred solely on the fire inside, the fire this woman was creating. His brain felt short-circuited, circuits zapped and overlaid by sensations he’d never felt before.

This was a need he didn’t know he had. She was melting into him and he was on fire. She was surrendering herself to him and it was the most exquisite gift…the most life-affirming generosity.

Her beauty stunned him. His hands caressed the small of her back and he thought he’d never known a woman as beautiful. Her breasts were melting against his chest and it was as if she was merging into him. Two bodies becoming one, fused by fire.

Her surrender was total. As his hands moved to her hips and tugged her closer he felt her rise to meet him, standing on tiptoe so her thighs were against his. He was responding with a fire he hadn’t known he possessed.

She was the loveliest thing, the most beautiful woman, and amazingly she was opening herself to him, wanting him with a desperation that belied description.

But…

Desperation.

The word clanged into his head, unwanted, uncalled for, but suddenly there, loud and clear. He had an armful of the most desirable woman in the world but suddenly the instinctive knowledge of her despair was overwhelming.

Once thought, it couldn’t be unthought.

She was letting herself sink into him to prove something to herself that had nothing to do with him.

How he knew it he couldn’t say, but all of a sudden it was fact and the effect turned fire to ice.

How the hell he managed to stop, to pull away, he never knew, but somehow he did. He put her far enough so that he could look down into her eyes and see if the word he’d thought had any reality.

It did. She was gazing up at him, her eyes softly luminous, trying to smile, but there was confusion behind her smile. Her lip looked bruised, he thought. Had he kissed her so hard? She put her hands up to his head to tug him down to her again, but the sight of those bruised lips-of the confusion behind her smile-had him shaking his head.

‘No.’

‘N-no?’ His pause had shaken her. He saw her bewilderment increase, and it was almost his undoing. She was here for the taking. She was a grown woman, a colleague who was surely old enough to know her own mind.