Three Blind-Date Brides. Fiona Harper

walls and a kitchen cluttered full of gaily coloured canisters and racks of spices completed the picture. ‘It’s nothing special,’ she said, ‘but I’ve tried to make it a home.’

      ‘You succeeded.’ His gaze went to the lounge and returned to her face, and a desire he had fought—they had both fought—burned in his eyes.

      ‘Well, thank you again.’ She shifted beside him. Wanted him to stay. Forced herself not to offer coffee, late night TV, late night Marissa …

      ‘Goodnight. I shouldn’t have come in.’ His gaze tracked through her home again.

      ‘Yes. Goodnight. You should … go.’

      The muscle of his upper arm brushed the curve of her shoulder as he turned. He made a choked sound and his fingers grasped her wrist.

      ‘We mustn’t—’ But she lifted her head as his lowered and then his mouth was on hers.

      He tasted of coffee and wine and Rick—a wonderful, fulfilling taste that she lost herself in. So totally lost herself …

      Rick’s stomach muscles clenched as he fought the urge—almost the need—to crush Marissa close. He didn’t need. He made choices.

       Like this one? What was he doing?

      Marissa made a soft sound in her throat and her hand lifted to his biceps, and then his shoulder, over his shirt. He wanted her hand on his skin. Somewhere. Anywhere. To warm him …

      When she finally stroked her fingers over the cord of his neck and up to the edge of his jaw, he pressed in to her touch. As though he couldn’t survive without it. The feeling was shocking, almost unmanning, and yet still he kissed her, pressed nearer, kept going.

      Rick caught her hand as it dropped away from his face. Caught it between their bodies with his and held it to his chest. Felt eased somewhere deep inside as he did this.

      He meant to control this. It was only desire. It had to be—he could still prove it. Somehow. If he merely kissed her again, tasted her again and then …

      The and then part didn’t happen. Not in the way he intended. Not Goodbye and Glad you enjoyed the dinner and That was nothing out of the ordinary.

      Instead, he should ask what the hell he was doing kissing her in the first place.

      Even that question couldn’t get through. Not with his lips fused to hers, their bodies a breath apart. It should have—it needed to. A part of Rick acknowledged that. He kissed her again anyway. Kissed her and drew her against his chest and wondered if he was stark, staring crazy as his heart thundered and his arms ached to keep her within their clasp.

      Marissa didn’t know what to do. She’d let this get out of her control and she didn’t know how to bring it back. Rick’s kiss, his touch, his arms around her all combined not only to swamp her senses but also to overwhelm her in too many other ways.

      His hold felt like a haven, his touch what she had needed and waited for. Her emotions were involved in this kiss, and she couldn’t let them be. She had to protect herself. He didn’t even want to desire her, and she was determined to have no feelings for him. She didn’t have feelings for him. Right? Right?

      She gasped and drew sharply back. Her hands dropped from him.

      He released her in the same instant, and stared at her as though he couldn’t believe what he’d done. As though his actions astounded him. As though he’d felt them in the same deep places she had?

      Don’t fool yourself, Marissa.

      His jaw locked tight. ‘I showed a weakness of character by doing that. I apologise.’ He stepped back from her and the warmth of his eyes returned to a stark, flat grey.

      Marissa wanted to take consolation in the fact that he looked as though he had run a marathon, looked as torn and stunned and taken aback as she felt, but he’d soon recovered his voice, hadn’t he? And his self-control. She had to do the same.

      ‘This mustn’t be repeated. I’ll never participate again—’

      ‘I don’t mix work with pleasure, or pleasure with emotional commitment. I don’t do emotional commitment.’ He spoke the words at the same time, and then looked at her sharply. ‘What do you mean—?’

      ‘Nothing.’ She cut her hand through the air. Best to simply deal with this moment, and do so once and for all.

      He was corporate. He didn’t feel more than physical interest in her. She had somehow managed to embellish this encounter as if she believed his response to her ran deeper, and his words right now made that absolutely clear. No commitment.

      She wanted to ask Why not? Instead, she forced out the words that had to be said.

      ‘There was an attraction between us and we both gave in to it for a brief moment.’ That should put it into perspective. ‘It was a mistake and now it’s over and done with. I’m sure we’ll both very quickly forget it.’

      ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ he agreed and left.

      From: Kangagirl:

      I was dumped very publicly by my fiancé in an office environment where we worked together. Now I’m up to my neck in one again. An office situation and lots of hard work, I mean, not anything else because I wouldn’t be that silly. I feel pressured, that’s all.

      From: Englishcrumpet

      What’s your ex-fiancé’s name and where can we find him in case we want to let him know what we think of him? The dirt bag!

      From: Sanfrandani

      Marissa. Do you still have feelings for the guy?

      From: Kangagirl

      No. I couldn’t possibly have!

      But Marissa hadn’t been thinking of Michael Unsworth when she’d given her half desperate answer to her friends when they’d discussed last night’s dinner. She’d been thinking of Rick. She placed several more loose letters and memos onto the pin inside the file on her desk and told herself not to think back to that kiss at all.

      She needed to forget her boss in that way altogether and get back to her dating plans.

      No distractions. Especially no Tall, Dark and Delicious distractions.

      Tall, Out of Bounds and Emotionally Blockaded, she amended. All the things she could never accept. Except the tall part.

      And she wasn’t emotionally blockaded. She was cautious. A whole different matter.

      Rick’s mobile phone beeped out a message on his desk.

      Marissa forced her attention to her work. What she really needed was for Tom to get better and come back so she could go back to working for Gordon, and stop thinking about Rick.

      The fax machine whirred. Marissa got up at the same time that Rick left his desk. They met in front of the machine and hers was the hand that reached first for the sheet of paper that emerged.

      ‘I’ll take that. I think it’ll be for me.’ He reached out his hand.

      ‘Certainly. Here you go.’ She passed the fax to him, couldn’t help but see the image of a head and shoulders that filled the space. A cheeky smile that belied the wounded expression in dark eyes. Arched brows and thick dark hair and a bit too much make-up on the face, if the black and white image was anything to go by. The girl looked about sixteen. His older niece?

      Curiosity slid in sideways to assail her before she could stop it.

      The office phone rang. With the fax clasped in his hand, Rick strode to her desk and answered it. ‘Rick Morgan.’ A pause. ‘What’s going on, Kirri?’

      There was silence as he listened to whatever response he got and Marissa realised she was in the middle of the room, a party to a