The Christmas Sisters: The Sunday Times top ten feel-good and romantic bestseller!. Sarah MorganЧитать онлайн книгу.
pounded him with questions, thirsty for more information. What routes had he taken? How did the climbing differ from the Alps?
The conversation left her revved up and excited.
“You’re a good climber.” Luke finished his beer. “I’m surprised you haven’t been tempted to spread your wings and try some of these climbs yourself.”
She’d been tempted.
“No wings. Just my boots and my ice axe.” And a big, heavy anchor holding her in place.
He put the bottle down. “You’d like to leave, wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I saw your expression when we talked about it the other day. And I’ve been watching you.”
She felt as if she’d been caught naked. “Are you some sort of stalker?”
“No.”
“Then you’re interested in human behavior.”
He smiled. “I’m interested in you, Posy McBride.” His confession made her heart beat faster.
Was he flirting? What did it say about her that she didn’t even know?
“I’m not that interesting.”
“I disagree. And I’m intrigued as to what makes a woman with your gifts stay in one place her whole life.”
“You make it sound as if I’ve never left the village. You should know I’ve often ventured beyond the Scottish border.” She fiddled with the bottle in her hand. “I’m happy.”
“But that doesn’t stop you wondering what it would be like to climb in other places. And live somewhere the local population doesn’t know everything about you.”
“They don’t know everything. That’s ridiculous.”
Geoff arrived at that moment and put plates of food in front of them. “I swapped your carrots for peas, Posy, because I know you hate carrots.”
Great!
“Thanks.” She waited for Geoff to walk away and shrugged. “So he knows I don’t like carrots. That doesn’t prove anything.”
Luke leaned across and stole one of her chips. “It’s not wrong to question the life you’re living, Posy. It’s understandable that someone like you would want to explore the world.”
“I don’t know why you’re eating my chips when you have a bowl of your own.” She picked up her fork but immediately put it down again. “It would devastate Mom if I left. And anyway, I’m going to take over the café one day.”
She owed Suzanne and Stewart everything.
They’d sacrificed their own plans for the future, their dreams, to take in three orphaned children.
Without them, what life would she have had? Not this one, that was for sure.
Luke tucked into his food. “Maybe you should talk to her about it.”
Mom, I’ve been thinking of leaving Glensay.
Mom, I’d like to spend some time climbing in North America.
Mom, I don’t want to take over the café.
“I don’t think so.”
She stared miserably at her plate, feeling trapped.
Luke reached across and closed his hand over hers. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not used to talking about it, that’s all. By the way, the fact that you held my hand will be all around the village by morning.” But she left her hand in his. She wasn’t sure why, given that there would be a price to pay in terms of teasing, except that it felt right.
He turned her hand over. “Your hands are pretty smooth for a climber.” He ran his thumbs over the tips of her fingers.
“I don’t climb as much as you do. Also, I have a secret weapon.”
“You avoid washing up and lounging in hot tubs?”
“That, too, but also I use a honey moisturizer that we sell at the café. It’s good. You?”
“Grapeseed oil. And I rely on athletic tape.” He let go of her hand and sat back.
She felt a pang of regret. “You’re worried about gossip?”
He smiled. “I was thinking about you. You’re the one who has to carry on living here after I’ve left.”
It was a reminder that he’d be moving on and she’d be staying here, doing the things she always did. Talking to the same people she always talked to. Climbing the same mountains she always climbed. Running the café.
She reached for her beer and took a mouthful.
The years stretched ahead of her and she caught a glimpse of her future, which looked the same as her present. No surprises. No adventure. The only change would be the patterns she created on top of her cappuccinos. Her life was depressingly predictable.
And whose fault was that?
She put the bottle down. “I feel I ought to warn you that I’m about to kiss you.”
His expression didn’t change. “Interesting. But if handholding will create gossip, what will kissing do?”
“We’re about to find out. It’s my civic duty to give the community something new to talk about.”
There was a pause. “And you’re all right with that?”
“I’m going to learn not to care. This is a good place to start.” She stood up, took his face in her hands and pressed her mouth to his before she could change her mind.
At first the kiss was slow and gentle. She controlled it, he responded, and although his mouth was warm and undeniably skilled, he was also careful and restrained as if he was holding back. And then something shifted.
She’d intended the kiss to be fun. A statement perhaps, or possibly an experiment. She hadn’t anticipated that he might play an active part in that experiment.
He slid his hand behind her head, keeping their mouths fused as the kiss turned hotter and more urgent. She felt the skill of his mouth, the slide of his tongue, and lost all sense of time and place. It was insanely erotic, her response to him shockingly raw and primal. To anybody watching, nothing had changed, but for her everything had changed. Her heart hammered against her chest. Pleasure exploded inside her and her body was saturated with need. She lowered her hands to his shoulders, no longer confident that her limbs could hold her.
When he eventually withdrew his mouth from hers, she couldn’t work out why he would end something that felt so good.
His gaze held hers, his eyes sleepy and dark with desire.
Her heart was pounding. The loud hum of background noise faded to nothing. It was only as she floated back to earth that she heard the catcalls.
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