reaction. She was drawn towards him.
A thought jumped into his head, tearing him away from the impure thoughts starting to filter through his brain. He groaned. ‘What about the power? How can we sterilise the bottles and make the milk for Abraham?’
She touched his arm and an electric current shot straight up towards his shoulder, sending his brain straight back to his original thoughts. There was hesitation. She’d noticed it, too. ‘We should be fine,’ she said quietly, lifting her eyes slowly to meet his. ‘I had just boiled the kettle and resterilised the bottles. We can make up one when we go back downstairs.’ She was staring at him. Even in the dark light he could see the way her pupils had widened, taking over most of her eyes. Natural in the dark, but it didn’t feel like that kind of response. It felt like another entirely.
He set his candle down on a nearby side table, letting the glow shine upwards, emphasising the curve of her breasts and hips. He couldn’t pretend any more. He couldn’t hide his reactions. He didn’t want to.
He put his hand on her hip, pulling her closer, leaving her with a candle jar clutched to her chest. ‘So, not only am I marooned here—’ he waved his other hand around ‘—in a snowstorm, with the power out, with a lady who found a baby on the doorstep and knows all the words to every musical known to man—’ his hand came back to rest on her other hip, pulling her even closer with only the burning candle between them ‘—I find out she’s also slightly crazy. With career ambitions even the career-matching machine couldn’t have predicted.’
There was hesitancy there. A little apprehension—even though they had been lip-locked a few minutes ago. But Carrie was gradually relaxing. He could feel the tension leaving her arms and her body easing into his. She moved the flickering candle from between them, pressing her warm breasts against his chest. If she moved any more, things could start to get out of hand.
But she was smiling. A happy, relaxed smile. A warm smile. The kind he’d only glimpsed on a few rare occasions over the past two days. The kind that showed she’d let her guard down. The metal portcullis that was kept firmly in place was starting to ease up—ever so gently.
It revealed the real Carrie McKenzie. The kind of person she could be—if she was brave enough. The kind of person he’d like to know more about—be it vertical or horizontal.
Stop it! He tried to push those thoughts from his crowded head. Carrie just wasn’t that kind of girl. And instead of lessening the attraction it only heightened it.
He reached up and pulled one of her long chestnut curls from behind her ear. ‘I like your hair down. It’s beautiful. Really flattering.’ He hesitated a second as his finger brushed the side of her face. He didn’t want to push this. He didn’t want to scare her off.
Even though his male urges were giving him a whole other vibe his brain kept jumping in to keep him in check. ‘Sexy,’ he murmured, holding his breath to see the effect of his words.
He could almost predict she would tense and pull away. It was the biggest part of Carrie that he’d seen over the past couple of days.
But something had changed. The dim lights, the candles or just her new relaxed state meant that instead of pulling away she brushed closer against him and rested her hands on his shoulders. ‘Sexy—I like that.’ Her breath was dancing against his skin. He had to let her be the one to make the move. He had to be sure about this.
Those few seconds seemed like forever.
But she did move. Her body pressed against his a little more firmly and he felt her rise up on her tiptoes. Her lips brushed gently against his, then with a little more confidence her kisses became surer. His hands moved to her ribs; he could feel her deep breaths against the palms of his hands. He couldn’t stop them. He wanted to do more.
She had one hand on his back, the other at the side of his face as she deepened their kiss, teasing him with her tongue.
It was driving him crazy. She was driving him crazy.
He wanted to release the emotions and passions that were currently stifled in his chest doing their best impression of a smouldering volcano. But Carrie had to feel in control. He could sense how important that was.
He had to concentrate. He couldn’t lose himself in this. It was far too tempting. Far too tempting by half.
All he had to do was edge his hands a little higher and then he would feel her warm skin, be able to cup the warm mounds of her breasts and...
He stepped back. Slowly, pulling his lips apart from hers. Careful to let her know he hadn’t suddenly changed his mind about this.
His voice was hoarse. Too much pent-up expectation. ‘I hate to remind you, Carrie McKenzie, but we have a sleeping baby downstairs. We’ve only been gone a few minutes but if you distract me for another second...’ He let his voice drift off, leaving her in no doubt as to his meaning.
He wasn’t pulling away from her because he didn’t want to kiss her.
He was pulling away because right now he should.
She bit her lip.
A tiny movement. And one that could be the complete undoing of him. He wanted to slam her apartment door shut and drag her through to the bedroom. And forget about everything else and everyone.
But on the floor underneath them lay a little boy. He’d already been abandoned by one adult. He certainly didn’t need to be abandoned by two others.
Daniel’s sense of duty ground down on his chest.
He tugged at his jeans, trying to adjust them. Some human reactions were as natural as breathing.
Others he would have to control.
She nodded. ‘Let me grab a few things that I might need.’ She picked up one of the candles and walked over to her bedroom, opening a cupboard and pulling a few items of clothing out.
In the flickering candlelight he could make out the outline of her bed and possessions scattered around the room. A smile danced across his lips. Carrie McKenzie’s bedroom. Would he ever get an invite into there?
It wasn’t entirely what he’d expected. No flowers. No pink.
A bright green duvet, a mountain of pillows and a matching fleece comforter across the bottom of the bed. An electronic tablet and a few books were scattered on the bedside table, along with a few other obligatory candles. He wondered what scent they were. What scent she liked to fall asleep to.
A silver box lay on top of the bedclothes.
Her eyes flickered over to it and there was something—was it panic?—before she moved quickly, picked up the box and tucked it under the bed. She tucked the assorted clothes under her arm and appeared under his nose. ‘Ready.’
It was just a little too bright. A little too forced. As if she was trying to distract him.
He’d just been kissing this woman but there were still parts of her she wanted to keep hidden. A tiny flare of anger lit in his stomach, only for him to extinguish it almost as quickly. He should know better than most. Everyone had secrets they wanted to hide. Parts of their life they wanted to remain hidden. Why should Carrie be any different?
‘Let’s go. We need to check on Abraham, and Mrs Van Dyke.’
He turned to follow her out of the door. And then it hit him.
That was what was wrong with this place.
There was nothing really of Carrie.
Oh, she might have her candles and a few books.
But there were no photos. Not a single one.
It sent a strange sensation down his spine. Every woman he’d ever known had pictures of their friends and family dotted around. Even he had some family pictures in various places around his apartment.
Carrie didn’t have one. Not a single one.
What