amazing kisser.
And she knew that the same thing would never have happened had she invited David Armstrong back for coffee. David might have kissed her, that was true, but she knew that there wasn’t another man on the planet who would make her feel what Jack had just made her feel.
But it was totally hopeless.
And the raw, sexual attraction she felt for Jack shouldn’t interfere with her determination to find a father for Lizzie, she told herself firmly.
That was just lust and lust always faded anyway. She needed a man who would be kind, good company and a caring father to Lizzie. She didn’t need raw sexual attraction. In fact, raw sexual attraction was starting to turn her into a nervous wreck.
So she lifted her chin and smiled at Jack, proud of how natural it seemed. ‘Well, thanks for the practice,’ she said lightly, leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek, resisting the almost overwhelming temptation to trace a route to his mouth with the tip of her tongue. ‘I’d forgotten how to do it, but you reminded me. Now I know I’ll get it right next time I go out with David.’
And with that she opened the door, climbed out of the car and walked to her cottage without looking back.
CHAPTER SIX
DAMN. Damn. Damn.
What the hell had he done?
He’d kissed his best friend.
Jack stared after Bryony, trying to decide what shocked him most. The fact that he’d kissed her, or the fact that he hadn’t wanted to stop.
He sat in the car with the engine switched off, staring into the frozen darkness feeling as though something fundamental to his existence had changed.
Where had it come from? That sudden impulse to kiss her…
Blondie was family.
As much a baby sister to him as she was to Tom and Oliver.
And until tonight he’d never thought of her in any other way.
Or had he?
Had he really never thought of her like that or was it just that he’d trained himself not to?
He sat still, watching the house, and then suddenly the lights went on. He saw her walk into her cosy sitting room and shrug off her coat, revealing that amazing red dress and an avalanche of blonde hair.
For years he hadn’t seen her in a dress and suddenly she seemed to be wearing a different one every week.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, still able to detect the tantalising scent of her hair and skin. The instantaneous reaction of his body was so powerful that he gritted his teeth and shifted slightly in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position.
There wasn’t one.
Suddenly, somehow, she’d invaded every part of him.
He’d made an unconscious decision never to cross that boundary but now he’d crossed it there was no going back.
Whichever way he looked at her, he didn’t see a surrogate sister any more. And he didn’t see his best friend. He saw a woman. A living, breathing, stunningly beautiful woman.
But he couldn’t do anything about it.
Lizzie was looking for a father. Someone strong who could swing her in the garden. Someone funny who’d let her watch television before school and who wouldn’t make her eat sprouts.
Well, he could do that bit with no problem. He wasn’t that keen on sprouts himself so he was more than happy to collude over their exclusion from their diet. And he had no trouble swinging her in the garden, hugging her and making her laugh. In fact, he was great at all those things.
The problem came with the last bit of her letter.