The Maverick - By Jan Hudson Page 0,52

bad if you got pregnant?”

“You’re asking someone who was ridiculed for being a bastard? Of course it would be bad. I wouldn’t do that to a child.”

“If we got married, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Married?” she squeaked. “Are you out of your ever lovin’ mind? We just met. I don’t know you well enough to even discuss marriage. We’re only up to the L word, and that seemed rushed. Forget the M word.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, stroking her tummy. “I think we know each other pretty well.” He sounded amused.

“I’m not speaking of knowing in the biblical sense. I’m talking about the deeper sense, the psychological and spiritual sense. Why, I don’t even know your favorite color.”

“Blue. Yours?”

“Red and blue and yellow. And some greens. And I love teal.”

“Doesn’t that cover everything?” he asked.

“Oh, no. I’m not wild about most browns, mustard and magenta. And I don’t much care for lime-green or dark olive.”

“What’s magenta?”

“It’s kind of like fuchsia, only darker and less vivid.”

He chuckled. “Of course. How could I not have known?” He kissed her nose. “Cass, I don’t need a long time to know I’m wild, crazy in love with you. I’ve known a fair number of women in my life, and none of them came close to affecting me the way you do. Your smile lights me inside, and the sound of your voice sets my heart racing. Just being around you makes me feel as if I could fly.”

She touched his cheek. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. But I want to make sure the feelings last. To me, marriage isn’t on a trial basis. It’s a lasting commitment.”

“All I can say is every day I’ve known you, my feelings for you have grown. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you happy. Nothing.” He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Nothing.” He tucked her head against his shoulder. “Now go back to sleep and don’t worry. You need your rest.”

“Okay, but tomorrow I’m going to get a prescription for the pill. And let’s not forget protection again. All right?”

“I promise.”

Cass slept better than she had in days.

When she opened her eyes, Griff was on his side, head propped in his hand, watching her. She stretched and smiled.

He leaned over and circled her nipple with his tongue, then sucked gently. “I’ve been wanting to do that for the last twenty minutes.”

“How long have you been awake?”

“Twenty minutes.” He moved to the other breast, blowing gently, then taking the hardened tip into his mouth. “Mmm.”

“Mmm, yourself. I have to brush my teeth and take a shower.”

“Sometimes hygiene is highly overrated.” His attention went back to her breast.

“Not in my book.”

“Do you have an extra toothbrush?”

“Where’s yours?”

“In my luggage. In my car. Out front. Be still.”

“Griff, I’m getting up. Let go. Ouch!”

“Sorry. Let me kiss it and make it well.”

She laughed and twisted away, batting him with her pillow. “I’ve got first dibs on the bathroom. Why don’t you make coffee?”

Considerably refreshed, she came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, to smell coffee brewing and see Griff headed toward her, naked as a jaybird.

“Where are your clothes?” she asked, trying not to stare at some of his more magnificent parts.

“In a wrinkled mess on the floor. Be right back.” He kissed her on the way to the bathroom.

“I left a new toothbrush out on the counter,” she called after him.

His clothes were indeed a wrinkled mess. She tossed them on the bed, then got out her ironing board and set the iron to heating while she dressed in capris and a cool, sleeveless top. By the time Griff exited the bathroom with a towel draped around his hips, his pants were pressed and she was steaming the last sleeve of his shirt.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Haven’t you ever seen anybody iron?” she countered.

“You’re ironing my clothes?”

“Why is that such a surprise?” She held up his shirt. “It’s no big deal. I’ve been doing it most of my life.”

His brows went up. “Ironing men’s clothes?”

“No. Ironing my clothes.” She smiled and held the shirt for him to slip his arms into. “I suppose the concept might be difficult to understand for a man who sends bathing suits to the laundry.” She nipped his shoulder, then slid his shirt into place. “I’ll go check on the coffee. I’m craving caffeine.”

While Griff finished dressing, she went into the kitchen and poured two cups. She emptied a packet of sweetener in hers

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