‘Why does everyone think they know better when it comes to my life? You should ask Mike Russell what happens to men who try to force me to do anything against my will.’ Laura gave him no chance to respond. ‘Oh, that’s right he might punch you again and send you back into Leo Painter’s tender hands.’
His blue eyes turned dark as midnight. ‘How did you . . .?’
‘I bumped into Mike this morning and he asked whether my American “friend” had gone back where he belongs. He added that you’d hopefully got the hint you weren’t wanted here,’ Laura scoffed. ‘Putting two and two together didn’t need a maths degree.’
‘You said somethin’ about him forcing you. If he—’
‘—I’m capable of looking after myself, thank you very much. I kneed him where it hurts and, with my medical knowledge, I’d say his little barmaid will be out of luck tonight.’
‘Good. I was goin’ to tackle him myself but I guess I don’t need to now.’
Against her will Hunter’s tentative smile amused her.
‘Will you give me a break? Please?’
‘Why?’
‘Because I can’t leave after the wedding not knowing if there’s a chance we—’
‘—I told you before there can never be any sort of “we” and I meant it.’ Laura struggled to suppress her frustration. ‘You need to get that through your thick skull.’
‘It’s not that thick. You’ve seen the X-rays.’
The burst of laughter erupted before she could crush it. She slumped down on the sofa and kicked off her shoes. ‘Oh I give up. For God’s sake, open the bloody bottle of wine, pour me an outsize glass and feed me.’
* * *
‘Yes, ma’am.’ He hoped she wouldn’t throw him out after he’d washed the dishes later. Hunter carried two large glasses of wine back into the living room and she snatched hers from his hand.
‘I hope this isn’t some expensive vintage I’m supposed to appreciate because I’m in the mood to get tipsy as fast as possible.’
‘Nah, it was on special at your grocery store.’
‘You can sit down. I won’t bite. At least not until the food appears.’
‘I need to get back on chef duty. Are you happy to eat in here?’
‘Try to prise me from this comfy sofa and see what happens.’
He disappeared and brought back the food.
Laura’s first large forkful of stroganoff was followed by another and another until her plate was clean. ‘That was incredible. Are you seriously claiming you made this yourself?’ She didn’t attempt to hide her scepticism. ‘Don’t waste time lying. I always buy the supermarket ready meal deals. You can’t beat getting two mains, a pudding and bottle of plonk for a tenner.’
Hunter didn’t have a clue what she was rambling on about but got the impression she was dubious about his cooking skills. If he admitted to making the pasta from scratch she definitely wouldn’t believe him. ‘I’m done lying to you. I made it all. Okay?’ Her wide-eyed unguarded glance set loose the coil of arousal that had tugged at him since the moment they met.
‘Oh.’ Laura’s low, husky whisper finished him.
‘Last time we were interrupted by the lights comin’ back on.’ Later he might regret this, or in the next few seconds if she slapped his face, but he trailed his finger along her jaw and lingered against her mouth. ‘It’s your call now.’
Laura wound her hands around his neck to draw him closer. Her soft lips brushed over his and the hints of lush, ripe fruit from the wine they’d drunk heightened his senses. She fumbled with his shirt buttons but he resisted helping her. No way did he intend for her to turn around later and say he’d pressured her in the heat of the moment. Hunter’s cautiousness lasted until her fingers stroked his burning skin.
‘Are you sure about this? Only a minute ago you said—’
‘—and I meant it, but I’m offering this. Now. Only this.’ The colour rose in her cheeks. ‘Of course if you don’t want to . . .’
‘You can’t believe that.’ If he said too much the words would come back to bite him later. ‘Here or upstairs?’ Not the most eloquent offer he’d ever made a woman.
‘Here . . . first.’ Laura’s eyes sparkled. ‘If it’s not too beige for you?’
