Marrying the Playboy Doctor - By Laura Iding Page 0,24

You’re right. It’s not the same thing at all.”

“No, it’s not.” She wrapped her arms over her stomach, as if she were cold. As if it weren’t a nice, breezy seventy-five degrees outside.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, trying to ease closer, anxious to offer comfort. “I had no idea what he did to you.”

“Yeah, well. Now you do.” Kylie bravely lifted her chin and met his gaze head-on. “And now you understand why this isn’t going to work. I’m not in a position to forget all my troubles, go out and have a little fun. I can’t depend on anyone but myself. Not when it comes to Ben.”

He disagreed. She shouldn’t have to do everything alone. But this wasn’t the time to argue. She was hurt, and he longed to make her feel better. He took another step closer and lightly reached for her, keeping his touch gentle and nonthreatening. “I think you’re a wonderful mother to Ben.”

She relaxed a bit and gave a tiny nod. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you so upset.” He lightly stroked his hands up and down her arms. “Ben is very lucky to have you.”

“And you were lucky to have your parents, too. Remember that whatever reason your mother had for not telling you the truth she loved you. And so did the man who adopted you as his own.”

Gregory Taylor had adopted him. All three of them. He had raised them as his own.

Kylie was right. Being angry was stupid.

Especially when he was close enough to breathe in her sultry scent, her soft skin warming beneath his hands. He didn’t want to hurt her, yet at the same time he couldn’t stop himself from leaning down to brush another kiss across her luscious mouth.

“Seth…” she whispered.

“Shh,” he soothed, drawing her closer. “Just a kiss, Kylie. Please?”

She lifted her head, stared into his eyes, and then raised up on her tiptoes to press her mouth against his.

CHAPTER SEVEN

UNABLE to deny something she wanted so desperately, Kylie fitted her mouth to his, kissing Seth even though she knew she was playing with fire.

But she hadn’t been held by a man in a really long time. She’d been so cold and lonely. There was no way she could voluntarily tear herself away from Seth’s welcoming heat.

His mouth hungrily slanted over hers, and she met his caress with an eager response of her own. The passion between them sizzled, like water droplets dancing in hot oil. The only difference between this kiss and the one during the baseball game was that it was Seth who ended the embrace.

“Kylie,” he whispered in a hoarse tone as he rested his forehead against hers. “This is starting to feel complicated.”

Complicated? Was that a good thing or a bad thing? The haze of desire clouding her senses made it difficult to think. Probably a bad thing. “Uh, okay.”

He sighed and muttered a curse. “No, it’s not okay. But it doesn’t matter. Can I see you tomorrow?”

Tomorrow? Sunday? She knew she probably should say no, but her mouth answered before her brain could protest. “Sure.”

“Good. That’s good. I’ll teach you about football as we watch the game.” His tone was casual, but his gaze was intense. He might have been the one to step back, remembering better than she how Ben was just in the other room, but his dark brown eyes were almost black with banked desire.

“Great.” She gathered her scattered thoughts, stifling a flash of disappointment that he hadn’t asked her out for a proper date. Although hadn’t she just told him she wasn’t in the market for fun? The heat of his kiss had confused everything.

With Ben here, she wouldn’t have to worry about any more toe-curling kisses. “I’ll think of something to throw together for dinner.”

“I was thinking we could go out for dinner—if you can find a babysitter for Ben? If not, he’s welcome to join us.”

She sucked in a breath. Did she dare go out with Seth on a real date? Maybe she was wrong to react so harshly? Would a little fun hurt? After everything she’d been through in the past year, she probably needed some fun.

“It’s just a date, Kylie,” Seth said when she hesitated.

She slowly nodded. “All right. I’m sure I can find a babysitter.” There was a young girl who lived not far away who’d tucked a flyer in her mailbox shortly after they’d moved in, offering “reasonable rates” for babysitting services. Missy Clairmont had used the teenager a