one of his hands around her nape, beneath that heavy braid. The other he slipped under her camisole to feel more of her soft skin. Her fingertips found his nipples and paused with interest, then skated upward as if she were discovering how his muscles lay. Once her fingers curled into his chest hair. He thought about the kneading of a small cat. His own hands had mostly stilled; he was frozen in wonder at the sensations she was awakening. Conall had never had a more sensual experience. He couldn’t make out her face, any more than she would be able to see his. The darkness was near complete with no windows opening into the hall. It was all touch, and the tiniest of sounds. The hitch of a breath, a whimper, another groan he couldn’t stop.
He wanted desperately to haul her against him, to shove his hips against hers. He wanted to rip that camisole off and feel her breasts against his bare chest. He wanted to find her mouth in the dark, swallow her small, helpless sounds, dig his fingers into the richness of her hair as he angled her head.
Instead, he stood completely still and experienced more pleasure than he’d had from a woman in…forever. It was torture, and it was exquisite.
She stroked his belly. The muscles tightened and quivered beneath her palm. She traced the line of hair to the open snap of his jeans, hesitated and then stopped.
Recoiling, she remained in place only by his hold. “No!” she whispered furiously. “I can’t.”
“Lia.” Now he bent his head and tried to find her mouth, but she evaded him, stiff, her entire body trying to pull away.
“Stop. Please stop.”
His brain was hazed by desire, but from force of will he let her go. She jumped back two feet and collided with the door frame. Her “Ow” was muffled.
He’d blown it. Upset her.
But she’d touched him, and damn it, she’d enjoyed it.
Conall realized with shock that he was shaking. There wasn’t anything he could do but say in a low voice, “I’m sorry. Good night, Lia,” and retreat.
She had hurried to the bathroom and closed the door behind her with a decisive click before he reached his bedroom.
Conall stripped and got into bed, then lay staring at the ceiling, his body ready to bury itself in hers, a hundred emotions he didn’t understand brushing against each other and rattling like a not very melodic wind chime.
* * *
THE NEXT DAY was Saturday. Lia took all three kids swimming. She didn’t wait until Conall appeared, having no desire to invite him. Not, she realized belatedly, that he likely would have come anyway, since he was trying not to be noticed.
They had fun, but she knew they would have had more fun if he’d been with them. Especially the boys, who’d latched onto him with a fervor that had taken her by surprise.
Conall MacLachlan was temporary, she brooded. She hated the fact that she had to keep reminding herself of that. Maybe she’d made a mistake encouraging him to spend time with Walker and Brendan. Yes, he’d been good for them—but what would happen when he and his partner packed up their equipment and went away, never to be seen again? The brothers’ mother had died, and now they’d let themselves care about someone else who wasn’t in it for the long haul. Did they understand that?
Lia didn’t even know why she was upset. No, mad. The boys were attached to her, too. Lots of the kids she took in got attached to her. She offered herself up to them, even though she knew she would be hurt later, when they left to go home. But this felt different, as though Conall shouldn’t be promising something he had never intended to give.
He said he’d spend time with them. That’s all he ever promised.
With words. That’s all he’d promised with words. But with smiles and affectionate touches and his amazing patience, he’d given them so much more than time. Didn’t he know what he was doing? she raged. He was being the father they’d never had. The father no other man would ever match.
Lia was astonished at the pain clutching her heart into a fist. Pain that wasn’t even hers.
Conscious of shock, she sat poolside and watched the two boys halfheartedly splashing each other.
Was she angry at Conall because she, too, wanted to believe he’d never go away? Was she that foolish?
She squeezed her eyes shut. Dear God, yes. Yes, I