You're the One (18 page)

Realising that
Moz would soon be coming back, she wondered what to do. Sit on the
sofa? Was it wise to sit right in front of the area where they’d
just boinked their brains out? Probably not a good choice. Kitchen
might be a good idea, she could get a drink, try to sort her
thoughts before he came out and she had to face him.

“I’ll feed you
as well,” she told Missy.

Walking into
the hallway, she spotted the plate of half eaten spaghetti sitting
on the hall side table and took it into the kitchen to tip into the
bin. Her appetite was gone, relaced by a lustier one.

Oh boy. Now
what?

Guess she’d
soon find out. Moz definitely wasn’t the kind to love and leave,
though yesterday he’d panicked by his own admission, so who knew?
Maybe right now he was trying to get through the bathroom window
and run. She grinned.

Placing Missy
on the floor, she got a saucer of kitten food and another of kitten
milk and placed it on the floor beside the china bowl of water. By
the time she straightened, Moz had entered the kitchen, his big
body leaning indolently against the kitchen bench.

There was no
way she could help the flush rising in her cheeks when she met his
gaze. Oh man, those eyes had been looking down into hers when
he’d….and then when he’d…and hoo boy.

Clearing her
throat, she moved behind the kitchen bench, keeping it between them
like a buffer. Pretty useless buffer, really, all he had to do was
reach across with those long arms to grab her.

Yes,
please
.

Damn, where
had that thought come from? And really, now what? Did she thank
him? Ask him for round two? What? This wasn’t a situation with
which she was familiar.

“Do you want
something to drink?” She finally looked up at him.

“Yes, please.”
His voice was a pleasant rumble. “Black tea will be fine, no
sugar.”

Ah man, he was
doing it. Those brown eyes were warm, a small smile playing around
those perfect lips that kissed like a dream. He looked so sure of
himself, so confident, just leaning against the bench like he made
love to women every day.

Wait, he
probably did. She didn’t really know him that well.

That thought
had her shoulders pulling back, her spine straightening, chin
lifting.

Moz saw it
all. His smile faded, head angling slightly as he studied her.

She met his
inquiring gaze without flinching. Okay, she flinched inwardly,
couldn’t help it, but she hid it by going through the mechanical
motions of getting mugs and tea bags.

“Problem?” he
asked quietly.

“What makes
you think that?”

“Because you
went from just being delightfully flustered to a little
defensive.”

“I’m not
defensive,” she replied a trifle tartly. “Nor was I flustered.”

“Share your
thoughts with me, then.”

Del spooned
sugar into one mug. Geez, how to start? What did she want to say,
ask? Man, why couldn’t she be like some other women who had sex
with a hot man and just smile, enjoy it and keep on going? Why did
she always have to look for more? Why did she have to be so -

Her thoughts
were cut off by a big hand reaching across to engulf hers, followed
by a gentle but undeniable tug. “Talk to me, Del.”

She swallowed,
staring at that big hand. Was that the hand that had touched her in
-
don’t think about that right now!

“You’ve always
been honest. Be honest now,” Moz continued quietly.

Looking up,
she saw him watching her with reassuring calmness.

“I don’t
really know you,” she blurted out.

“Okay.”

“No, it’s not
really okay. I’m not like some other girls. I don’t just make love
- have sex - with men I don’t know well. Or at all.” That sounded
odd even to her own ears. Not a good explanation. “I mean, I’m not
into one-night stands. I’m not… I can’t believe I did what I did
with you.” Wow, because that sounded so much better. “Ah, crap on a
stick.”

His eyes
crinkled at the corners in amusement.

“Glad you find
it funny,” she muttered.

Straightening,
Moz retained his grip on her hand, using it to pull her around the
kitchen bench as he walked in her direction. Even as she wondered
what he was going to do - trying to kiss her now wasn’t such a good
idea - Del watched him warily.

He didn’t try
to kiss her but instead simply backed her to one of the two high
stools against the kitchen bench, grasped her waist with both hands
and lifted her easily onto one of the stools, settling and
releasing her before she could even grasp what he’d done.

“Moz,
what-”

“Just sit
there. I’ll make the tea, we’ll talk.” Moving behind the bench, he
switched the kettle off and started to pour hot water into the
mugs. “First of all, I’m not amused by your declaration.”

“You sure
looked amused.”

“At your
exasperation. You’re cute when you’re exasperated.”

“Huh.”

“As for what
you said, I respect your decisions and beliefs.” He placed the
kettle back on the stand. “Everyone has their own set of values.
Milk?”

“Please.”
Okay, maybe this wasn’t going to be so hard. She relaxed a
little.

Moz poured the
milk, returning the bottle to the ‘fridge while carefully stepping
over Missy who was playing with a ping pong ball. Returning to the
bench, he frowned. “Biscuits?”

“I’m out.” At
his blank look, she added, “Haven’t done the shopping yet.”

“Huh.” He
looked thoughtfully down at the mugs before stirring hers. “I’ll
have to bring some around.”

Weird. “You
don’t have to buy them, Moz.”

“Buy?” He
actually looked shocked. “Baby, I don’t
buy
biscuits, I make
them.”

Okay, him
calling her ‘baby’ had her insides do a little flip, his admitting
he baked had her blinking. Then she remembered. “Oh right, you
cook.”

“I do.”

“You’d have
made a good husband for Simon. You cook, he eats.”

“Not my type.”
He leaned his forearms on the kitchen bench, bringing him down to
her eye level.

“Not
female?”

“Not you.”

She
blinked.

“Plus, you
know, Elissa got to Simon first.” He grinned.

So had she
really heard him say his type was her? Or was it just her
imagination?

A little
flustered all over again, she looked down at the mug, wrapping her
palms around it, only to jerk them back as the heat permeated the
porcelain.

Reaching out
leisurely, Moz took her hand, raising it to his lips to press a
kiss on her palm.

Holy heck, her
insides jumped, her lips parted and her breath caught. Lifting her
gaze to his eyes, she saw the meld of heat and gentleness combined
in the brown depths.

Not to mention
she still felt the imprint of his lips on her palm. Burned like a
brand.

That enigmatic
gaze dropped to their hands, and she looked down as well, watching
as he turned his hand, placed their palms together and slid his
so-much bigger fingers between hers, curling them around in a warm,
secure hold.

“So right,” he
said softly.

That had her
shifting her attention back to his face.

Cripes, the
way he was watching her in turn. Knowing, warm, so different to the
usual Moz she knew. The man who stood head and shoulders above the
Gully’s Fall citizens, who could make a person feel silly with one
steady look, who tolerated no bullshit and went his own way. A man
who could stand alone and almost thrive on it.

This was
Elissa’s brother, Simon’s brother-in-law, and until now all he’d
been to her was friendly. Until now…

“Why now?”

He knew
instantly what she meant. “No idea.”

That floored
her. “What?”

“No idea,” he
repeated calmly. “At first you were just a friend of my sister’s,
then we kind of became friendly because I was included in my
sister’s group of friends when I visited, then I knew you a little
better after shifting here, but truthfully? I’m not sure when I
felt the attraction.”

“Okay. Wow.
That’s honest.” Hell yeah, it was. No declarations of love at first
sight, no heartfelt confessions of secret desires.

“Actually,” he
frowned a little in thought, “I think I felt the first twinge when
Harding and his mob waved to you when you were sitting on the
roof.”

Oh yeah, she
remembered how he’d looked around before saying something to the
blokes that had them dropping their hands. So maybe when Harding
and Dawson bailed her up later there had been a real reason. “Hey,
did that have something to do with them stating you were my
boyfriend?”

“Hmmm.” He
considered it. “Maybe. Possibly. I just told them you were my
friend, you know, to give them the hint that if anything happened
to you I’d go over there and knock their blocks off.”

Geez, was that
romantic or what? “Huh.” She couldn’t help but feel a little
pleased.

“And then when
I tried to warn you, you got all defensive and I pinned you up
against the wall there.” He glanced at the kitchen wall and back to
her with a mixture of amusement and heat. “That’s definitely when I
felt a bit more for you than just friendly feelings.”

Warmth slipped
though her. “Yeah, I get that.”

“Do tell.” He
almost purred the words, kind of like a satisfied beast of prey.
“You felt the same.”

“You stating
that or asking it?”

“Let me see.”
Pursing his lips, he debated.

Man, he had
amusement bubbling up inside her. Who knew Moz Baylon had such a
teasing streak? Ruggedly handsome, tall, strong, sexy, hot in the
sack, and a sense of humour to boot. Why had she never noticed all
that before?

Probably
because though she’d acknowledged his rugged handsomeness and tall,
strong body, she’d certainly never had sex with him or experienced
his teasing humour. That was a game changer, all right.

Moz regarded
her with a slight grin. “I do remember saying I was going to do
something to you and you said, and I quote, ‘oh sweet mother mercy,
yes please.’”

She flushed a
little. “I don’t remember saying it quite like that.”

“Baby, it was
burned into my brain. Word for word.”

“Yeah, well…”
Del cleared her throat. “So if you felt something for me, why did
you kiss me then run?”

“You’re never
going to let that go, are you?” he asked ruefully.

“It made for a
memorable first kiss. For all the wrong reasons, I might add.”

He sighed.
“Fair enough.” His fingers flexed lightly around hers. “I only
meant to get socks, but you were right in front of me, all warm and
soft and smelling good.”

“You make me
sound like a loaf of freshly baked bread.”

“Good point.
Fresh baked bread does smell good.”

Del rolled her
eyes.

Moz grinned, a
flash of white teeth against tanned skin. “I’ll prove it to
you.”

“Never mind
that.” She made a ‘come on’ gesture with her free hand.
“Spill.”

“You’re a
little tenacious, did you know that?”

“Moz.”

“Yeah,
Del?”

“Don’t make me
hurt you.”

Amused, he
laughed, the deep rumble filling the air.

Arching an
eyebrow, she drummed her fingers on the bench top.

“Okay.”
Controlling his laughter, Moz’s eyes nevertheless sparkled. “You
smelled good, you were so close to me I could feel the warmth of
your body, and then you turned around and I was a goner. Just had
to kiss you, especially when you said, and here’s another quote,
‘anything else you want?’”

“Also burned
into your brain?” she asked dryly.

“Bet your cute
little arse,” he drawled. “Baby, I wanted so much right then. I
kissed you, it rocked my world, I didn’t know exactly what happened
and yep, I panicked. Didn’t know what to say or do, was terrified
that I’d insulted you, and I beat a retreat.”

That was so
damned cute Del couldn’t help but grin. “Aw.”

It was Moz’s
turn to arch an eyebrow. “In my defence can I just say that I have
never
ever
done that to a woman before. Ever.”

“So I’m to
feel honoured?”

“I kiss and
keep on kissing, or I kiss and it goes on from there. I have never
run after one kiss.”

“Hmmm, I’m not
sure how to take that confession.” When Moz just waited, she
explained, “That I’m not like other women. In fact, I’m apparently
so scary that I made you run for the first time in your life.”

“Del, you’re
not scary.” He tugged her hand, drawing her toward him a little so
that she had to rest her weight on her forearms, the position
placing her beneath his eye level again, making her look up at him.
“You’re special.”

Oh boy, this
man definitely had a way with words and actions, making her feel
warm all over, a little tingle sparkling through her. “Special
enough to run from?”

“Special
enough to throw me off balance,” he corrected. “Special enough to
make me realise that I wanted more than just one kiss, more than
just sharing a laugh, a take away meal on a movie night, more than
just saying ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’. Del, I want the whole package.”
His eyes were sincere, his expression honest.

That had her
pulse leaping. It also had her feeling like she might be treading
on quicksand.

Eerily attuned
to her - or maybe he just read her expressions so well, curse her
inability to hide her thoughts - Moz ordered quietly, “Your turn to
spill.”

“Um…what?”

“Fair’s fair.
I spilled to you, its time you spilled to me.”

“I’m not sure
there is anything to spill.”

Moz just
looked at her.

Del looked
right back up at him, studying his face, the honesty, the warmth,
the patience, and yep, that little warning glint in his eyes that
said he wanted the truth and was going to get it.