HER ONE AND ONLY VALENTINE - (14 page)

The sound of combined rustling filled the silence for a while as the depth of straw increased on the floor, each of them working from edge to edge on their side of the stable. But as they gradually worked their way closer together Rhiannon became increasing edgy, and the need for some inane chatter to fill the silence became too hard to ignore.

'You must be missing your life in Dublin by now.'

Oh, great. She could have raised a dozen topics, including the weather, but she had to go for one that demonstrated her curiosity. She was a genius.

'Parts of it. But the countryside isn't as boring as I remember it being.'

'That's right; your parents have a place in the country, don't they?' She'd forgotten that. Well, that explained why he'd made an effort with his country clothes, then. He already knew what he was supposed to wear—it was Rhiannon who was still trying to fit in. Just like always.

'Yep, that they do, not that I visit it as often these days, but it was a great place to grow up. Lizzie will love being here.'

And back on to the safe topic of Lizzie again. It suddenly occurred to Rhiannon that maybe she wasn't the only one falling back behind that particular shield.

Rustling filled the silence for a while again. 'I suppose it makes more sense living in the city when you have a hugely successful company to run, though.'

There was an amused edge to his voice. 'Yes, but that's just basic logistics. A company needs staff and there are more people in the city. When it comes to development of the games and new software, that can pretty much be done anywhere.'

Which was why he had been able to stay for so long, right? But that didn't mean his entire life centred on his work—there had to be other things to miss.

'More of a social life in the city, though.'

'Yes, there is. Why, are you missing the bright lights already?'

A glance across at him as he stood tall, shaking straw out in front of him, revealed a teasing light dancing in his eyes and Rhiannon rose to the bait, rolling her eyes. 'Oh, dreadfully. All that clubbing I normally do and the social whirl from one party to the next. You know how it is for we single mothers.'

The minute the last words had left her mouth her gaze locked with his again. Normally, that was exactly the opening he needed to make a caustic comment about how he wouldn't know anything about the life of a parent thanks to her. But instead he smiled wryly.

'Yes, it's exactly the same when you run a large company where hundreds of people rely on you.'

They both reached down for sections of straw while Rhiannon's loose tongue made the comment, 'Well, judging from the number of pictures of you at parties with various women over the years, you've managed to get out and about all right.'

From the corner of her eye she noticed him stop shaking out his section of straw. And she grimaced inwardly, all too aware that she'd just told him he hadn't been invisible to her over the years. It made it sound as if she'd been interested. When at the time she hadn't, not really. It had just been hard to miss all of the pictures was all...

But after a tense moment he started moving again. And she breathed out in relief.

They continued working until they were closer together in the centre of the stable. And, try as she might to concentrate on what she was doing, Rhiannon was only too aware of his every move, of how, even with a task so simple, he had a strength to him that was very palpably male. Just once she would like to spend time with him around and
not
be so aware of that.

She felt the need for chatter again, maybe on a safer topic this time. But before she could raise a topic his deep voice questioned, 'Do you think there's enough in here yet?'

Maybe she wasn't the only one who felt a need to fill the silence, then. She smiled at the thought of Kane Healey ever needing to make small talk, her eyes taking in the depth of the straw so that she could answer him. 'I think that pony is moving into the Ritz Carlton of stables, so yes. And anyway, why are you asking me? You're the one that grew up in the country— ponies were hardly a big part of my life, growing up.'

When she glanced up at him he smiled a slow, dangerous smile. 'Well, my brother and I did have a way of helping our sister check it was deep enough. It always worked for us back then.'

'Okay.' She felt a tingle run up her spine as the smile did things to her heart rate it really had no business doing. So she studied the straw instead and nodded. 'We'll use that method to check it, then.'

'We-ll, if you're sure.'

When she looked back at him there was something about the glint in his eyes that made her wary. 'What exactly
did
you do?'

He pursed his lips together in a way that suggested he was holding back another smile, then stepped towards her with a determined expression on his face. 'We rolled her in it and if she hit the concrete then we knew it needed more.'

Rhiannon gasped. He couldn't seriously—

She held up the armful of straw she still had in warning. 'You wouldn't dare.'

He hesitated very briefly, the glint in his eyes increasing. 'Is that a challenge?'

Automatically spreading her legs a little wider, she bent her knees and faked a dart towards the door, smiling when he went the same way. 'It's a warning.'

She lifted the straw higher.

'Now, Mac—' he tilted his head slightly and looked at her with an amused expression, his legs wider, knees bent in preparation '—I really don't think you want to do that.'

Actually, up until a second ago, she wouldn't have even considered it. But now that he'd warned her not to, a mischievous imp inside her was demanding she did. This was exactly the kind of dumb situation they would have got into back in the day. It was a reminder of lighter, less troublesome, happier times.

And it was maybe exactly what she needed to break through the tension.

So her eyebrows quirked at him. 'Do what?'

His forehead creased into a brief frown, as if he was confused by her reaction. And then, oh, so slowly, another smile started at the corners of his mouth while his voice rumbled out from his chest, low and deep.

'Put the straw down.'

'No-o.' Her mouth formed a circle on the 'o' as she swayed her weight from one leg to the other. 'Because I am
not
being used as a depth test.'

Kane took a deep breath and stood a little more upright, his lashes flickering down against his skin as he nodded. 'Well, I was teasing before.'

Rhiannon relaxed a little, her arms lowering. She'd known that after all, but it had still felt good to have a moment of fun. She'd forgotten what it had been like when they'd done stuff like this. 'Good.'

He nodded again, pursed his lips together again. 'I was— until you just did that.'

She squeaked in surprise as he lunged forward and swept her off her feet, the straw in her arms flying up in the air between them. Her empty arms then sought something to hold on to, her hands grasping hold of his shirt as he swung her backwards and forwards a couple of times.

'One—two—'

Rhiannon laughed uncontrollably, her hands moving up around his neck to hold on tighter. 'Stop it! I swear, Kane, if I go down, you're going with me!'

'You started this.'

'I did not.'

'Consider it an initiation to country life.'

With that, he swung her again and let go. But Rhiannon held on, so that when she fell her weight drew his upper body down with her. Then his feet slipped on the loose straw, dropping him on to his knees. Still laughing, Rhiannon moved quickly, loosening her arms from his neck to grab handfuls of straw and dump them on top of his head.

A battle commenced, with much scrambling and throwing of straw, but ultimately Rhiannon knew it was a battle she couldn't win and after Kane had used his size to his advantage and rolled her back and forth on the straw until she was spluttering, he let go and propped an elbow to lean his head on his hand and look down on her.

'I'd say it's deep enough myself.'

Rhiannon giggled breathlessly, revelling in the fact that she felt lighter than she had in years. And because of Kane, of all people. 'How often did you do this to your poor sister?'

'A lot over the years.' He reached over and pulled a long strand of straw out of her hair. 'It got to be a regular game of cat and mouse.'

'I bet you were a brat.'

'I kinda was.' He smiled down at her. 'I'm just a more grown up version now.'

Rhiannon smiled back. 'Yes, that you are.'

She watched as he focused on her hair, reaching out to remove another strand and toss it to the side. Then he looked into her eyes and in a moment the atmosphere changed, her heart immediately thundering in her chest in response.

He studied her for several long moments, his voice lower when he spoke again. 'This is more like how we used to be, isn't it?'

'Yes, it is.' Her voice was husky in reply, the lightness she'd been feeling replaced with the ache she normally felt when he showed any sign of softness towards her.

He nodded, studied her eyes again and then looked back at her hair, his fingers reaching for a strand close to her face. But this time, when he tossed the strand to the side, those same fingers came back to brush her hair from her neck, stroking briefly against her skin as she swallowed hard.

'Back in the days when you used to like me better.'

Rhiannon couldn't take it if they ended up in yet another debate, so she allowed the truth to slip free. 'I don't hate you so much any more.'

His fingers reached into the neck of her jacket to retrieve more straw, while his dark brows quirked. 'And what exactly did I do to deserve that when you've spent years hating me?'

Her breath hitched as he retrieved a strand of straw from the V of her sweater, the backs of his fingers brushing briefly against the top of her breast. 'I've watched you with Lizzie. And you couldn't be the way you are with her if you were as bad as I convinced myself you were.'

It was only half of the truth, but it was enough to bring his gaze back to lock with hers. And she held her breath as he studied her, her eyes wide as she tried to silently convey her sincerity to him.

When the backs of his fingers brushed gently along her jaw she breathed out, her eyes fluttering shut for a second as a wave of sensation consumed her. She should get up, move away—
far away
—because there was no point in succumbing to just the physical. Not again.

His hand turned, the tips of his fingers moving up along her cheek, across her forehead, where he smoothed out the frown that had formed before tracing the arch of each of her eyebrows in turn.

And, even though she was lying down, Rhiannon had the sensation that she was free falling into the unknown.

But it wasn't the unknown, was it? She knew every single step of this path, as did her body. The body that was awakening to a cornucopia of remembered sensation; her breasts feeling taut and confined, her stomach muscles tensing, an inner trembling forming low in her abdomen and spreading up and out. Because she'd never forgotten what he could do to her with his touch, with his hands and his mouth.

She sighed against the back of his hand when his fingertips traced her lower lip. 'This is a bad idea.'

'I know.'

His voice was so thick and husky that she opened her eyes to confirm what she could hear, her chest tight at the sight of his darkening eyes. She knew that look too.

'Because there's no point in letting this happen again.'

'No, there's not.' His thumb followed his fingertip along her lower lip, then back across her upper lip.

'The only thing we have in common now is our child.'

His eyelids seemed to grow heavier on her use of the word 'our', his head lowering towards hers as he mumbled back, 'Not the only thing, Mac. There's still this.'

The first touch of his mouth was heartbreakingly soft, almost reverent, as if he knew that anything more would have been too much too soon. But Rhiannon moaned low in her throat in protest at her need for more. In an automatic movement born of familiarity, her hand rose, smoothing her fingers into the hair at the back of his head.

Just like she remembered it—a slight coarseness to the touch that made it so very male and yet soft enough to add to the sensuality as her fingers moved.

He traced his mouth across hers from one edge to the other, slow, so slow, then he leaned his head a little closer to make the kiss firmer, deeper. While Rhiannon met each touch and mirrored it, her head spinning.

The fingers that had traced her features turned over, brushed over her cheek, turned again, trailed softly over her jaw and along the arch of her neck to rest on the beating pulse below her ear.

Her fingers tangled further into his hair, began a soft kneading at the back of his head that immediately relaxed his shoulders, and he sank his upper body tighter to hers. And somewhere in her mind she realized that she still knew what felt good for him every bit as much as he was showing her he still knew what felt good to her—because they had history.