Had he changed his mind? Had I been too needy in the last 24 hours? Perhaps all this knight-in-shining armour stuffhad got a bit tedious. It was ironic. When he had seemed unattainable I’d managed to bury my feelings for most of the time. Pretending that they weren’t there and getting on with my life. Now, since yesterday morning, I’d been unable to resist examining them like a shiny new penny, polishing them in private. What if that was taken away again? I felt hollow.
‘I don’t know about you but I’m starving,’ he said finally, moving away. I watched him open the fridge, his head disappearing inside like an eager Labrador on the hunt for food. He emerged clutching a white carton. ‘Would you like some soup?’
Ugh. My stomach quivered. I wasn’t sure if it was rebellion or hunger. Horribly conscious of all the trouble he’d already been through, I ignored my natural reaction and said politely, ‘That would be nice, thank you.’
He busied himself, getting out a pan, opening the carton of fresh soup. ‘Tomato and red pepper all right?’ he asked blandly.
‘Sounds lovely.’ I tried to sound bright but my voice came out strained.
He looked sharply at me. ‘I can find something else if you want.’
‘No, that’s fine, honestly.’ I pulled out one of the chairs and sat down sideways on. I was still huddled in my coat. The painkillers had done their job but I felt washed out. I didn’t even have the energy to offer to set the table.
Daniel seemed grimly efficient, crisply moving about the kitchen, concentrating on his tasks. Only when the soup was in a saucepan with the gas ring lit, the soup bowls ready and bread buttered did he stop. Carrying two spoons to the table, he looked at me and slid his eyes away quickly. They came back to rest on the top button of my coat.
‘Don’t you want to take that off?’ he asked.
I shrugged. Disappointment bitter in my throat. Fumbling sausage fingers failed me as I tried to undo it. Those paracetamol were working overtime and affecting all my nerve endings.
‘Come here,’ he said, a trace of exasperation in his voice.
I stood awkwardly looking down, watching as his fingers deftly undid the buttons. I felt like a five-year-old at school, I expected to see mittens on strings poking out of each sleeve. His hands came up to tug the lapels from my shoulders, they brushed my neck. Three thousand volts registered immediately but even as the brief flash died away, despair flooded in. His eyes had slid away from mine, his hands jumping away. Had I imagined the merest flicker of distaste in them? My shoulders slumped, a tiny rogue sob escaped.
‘Hey,’ said Daniel softly, his face creasing in concern. This immediately set me off. More sobs broke through, my eyes filling with tears that poured helplessly down my cheeks. God, men hate tears. He must have had enough tonight. Which made me sob harder. Bloody hell. I couldn’t look at him.
I felt him push my coat down my arms. Heard the buttons chink against the floor as he tossed it aside. Strong arms enfolded me, pulling me into a hard chest. The next thing I knew I was sitting, tucked onto his lap, close enough to see the soft stubble breaking through on his chin.
‘It’s OK, you’re safe,’ he murmured, his eyes looking directly into mine. They looked worried. Leaning closer still, his mouth began tracing up the trail of my tears, wisping past my damp eyelashes and coming to rest on my forehead. ‘It’s OK.’
Weeping uncontrollably now, I sputtered incoherent apologies. ‘I... I’m... sssorry.’ My gulping breaths interspersed the words.
His hold tightened, pulling me closer. We sat like that for a minute as my heaving sobs calmed. Apart from the hiss of the gas ring and the plops of soup bubbles, there was silence. I couldfeel the rise and fall of his chest against me. Then very gently his lips moved downwards, until they found mine.
Instant conflagration! The second they touched, something burst. Every pent-up emotion — all the fears of the day — were poured into that kiss. Thank God for painkillers! Our mouths were urgent. His lips firmly moulded mine and I kissed him back wholeheartedly. There was no hesitancy or gentle teasing. This was tongues duelling; breath gasping harshly; his hand holding my head firmly. Spontaneous combustion was only seconds away.
The bitter, acrid smell of burning soup butted in. As I pulled back slightly, Daniel tightened his hold and carried on kissing me. I twisted my head to mutter against his mouth.
‘Soup . . . burning.’
‘Sod...’ He kissed me again, pulling my head back to slant his mouth back over mine. ‘The.. .’ Those delicious mind-numbing lips honed in again before coming up to murmur, ‘soup.’
I was starting to melt. The kiss was penetrating erogenous zones I didn’t know I had. My body was beginning to do that pliable thing — bones going all supple and all the while a core of heat building.
Any doubts about my desirability and whether he still wanted me had gone up in smoke. Literally.
* * *
BEEP, BEEP — the ear-piercing shriek of the smoke alarm censored the kiss. We drew back, chests heaving, little pants escaping, looking at each other.
‘And I was worried about damaging you any more,’ he said dryly, his lips brushing against my face as he spoke. I gave a wan smile and touched his face.
‘Just what the doctor ordered — definitely the kiss of life.’ My shyness receded. ‘Better turn that soup off — we don’t want to make it a hat trick with the emergency services by needing a fire engine. I think we’ve used up our 999 call-out ration for today.’
Tipping me to my feet and grasping one hand, he switched off the soup with a deft flick of the wrist, marched up to the alarm and pinged out the battery. Still clutching my hand, he led me through to the lounge. Flipping on a lamp, he pulled me down with him onto the sofa, pulling me close with an arm around my shoulder.
‘I’ve lost my appetite. Now where were we?’
‘Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, I think,’ I said, eyeing his lips longingly before very slowly and deliberately sliding my gaze to meet his.
