historical romance ebook

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genre: historical romance

length: 20600 / novella

rating: simmering

released: January 2006

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Alexandra Marell

Excerpt

WARNING

Please note that some of the books on this site contain material of a sexual nature that is suitable for adults only. By contuining and reading the excerpt below you release us of any responsibility.

Spongebag in hand, Jen walked to the door, resolutely trying to ignore the man stretched out on her bed. It was impossible, of course. With an exaggerated sigh she turned back to him.

"Look, I'm taking a bath. Then we've got to figure out how to get you past matron. Don't move from there. You need to rest, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am." Mitch saluted, flashed her a grin and lay back against the pillows. Her pillows. Which she should be relaxing on right now. Jen was fairly sure there was nothing wrong with him, but she couldn't take a chance. Not if he might have a concussion. Hell, now she felt responsible for him as well as guilty.

"And don't even think of trying to climb back out that window, d'you hear me?"

"Loud and clear. Umm. If you like I could help you wash your…"

"And don't you even think about that either," she ordered him, but she could see by the smirk on his face that he already was.

"Look," she pushed back her hair and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, he was still there. "Just stay put, and don't touch anything."

"I wouldn't dare."

Mitch put his hands behind his head and assumed a look of innocence which didn't fool her for one moment. The leery grin was still on his face. He had her. And he knew it.

What the hell had possessed her to hit him? He could have delivered his package and gone back the way he'd come, and she'd never have had to see him again. Now she was stuck with him in her room, and already knew he was going to be the most annoying patient she would ever have the misfortune to nurse.

She spun on her heels. He called her back and slipped his hand under his leather flying-jacket to bring out a neatly wrapped parcel. "You forgot these."

"No, I didn't."

"Think you did, love. Go on, Jen, take them. It's the least I could do after…"

"No, don't go there." Jen held up her hands as if by doing so she could make him magically disappear. "Do you any idea how difficult it is to walk home in a gale without underwear?"

Mitch's eyes widened for a second and he looked suspiciously like someone trying to stop himself from laughing and not succeeding very well. His mouth twitched at the corners as he struggled to keep a straight face.

"Never done it myself, but I'm willing to give it a try. Go on, take 'em. Cost me an arm and a leg."

"Good." Jen snatched the parcel and tossed it carelessly onto Anne's bed. "Right, now I'm getting that bath."

"Not going to try them on?"

"She looked back over her shoulder and raised her eyebrows. "In your dreams, Mitch." Did he seriously think she would put them on for him? He may be cute, but he wasn't that cute. Was he? She sneaked another look, then quickly looked away. Damn, but he was. Pity about the being a complete idiot part.

"Chicken."

"What?"

"You're chicken."

"I am not."

"Put them on, then."

"Look, buster, you'll be modelling these for me before I put 'em on for you."

"All right, you're on. Throw them over."

Mitch sat up and shrugged out of his leather jacket while Jen watched with eyes that were getting wider by the moment. He was opening the second button of his trousers by the time she'd flown across the room and stopped him by slapping her hand unceremoniously into his crotch.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Trying them on. Be a love and get them for me?" He looked down pointedly at her hand and moved his hips, ever so slightly.

"Are you mad?" She followed his gaze, realised where her hand had landed and hastily removed it. "I do not want to see you in ladies' underwear."

"Well, I won't look as good as you in them, that's for sure. But come on, hand them over. I never run from a challenge."

Jen stood back and folded her arms. "Neither do I."

"Thought as much. You want to go first?"

"Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are? No, don't answer that. Okay, Flight-Lieutenant Anderson, you're on. You sure you can handle this?"

"No problem." Mitch settled back down again, jacketless, trousers almost undone. And that smile was back. The smile that told her he thought he'd got one over on her. That he was in charge of the situation. Who the hell did he think he was dealing with here? She'd show him who was in charge. Jen picked up the parcel and pulled at the string, glancing at him once again. He won't be looking quite so calm when I've finished with him, she thought, taking out the underwear and holding it up. Well, he had good taste, anyway. The red, lace-trimmed silk slipped through her fingers, feeling both wickedly sinful and satisfyingly expensive.

"Black market?"

"Where else?"

She looked around again, unable to resist half-closing her eyes and giving her bottom a very small wiggle. He couldn't see what she was doing; her robe still covered her and she had her back to him. A quick glance. He'd leaned forward ever so slightly, and his eyes had widened in anticipation. Smoothing the silk over her hips she thought, yes, Mitch Anderson, you are going to regret ever asking me to do this. The French knickers covered her original panties well enough, so she pulled her robe closed and turned around to face him.

"You ready?"

"Yes." It came out slightly squeakier than his normal voice. He was also having trouble with the smirk. Try as he might, he didn't seem to be able to get it back on his face.

"Okay, here goes."

"Wait." His hand came up to stop her.

"What now?" She pulled the robe closed while he pushed his cuff away from his wristwatch and made a big show of looking at it.

"How long do I get?"

"What do you mean, how long do you get?"

He was mad. She had a truly certifiable lunatic in her bed. And was about to flash him her underwear because he'd said she was too chicken not to do it. That must make her mad too. Oh, hell, she'd known this man all of two days and already she was acting like him.

Think of Robert, she told herself. Good old, reliable Robert. Pillar of the community. With his Rolls Royce and his sensible hair and his season ticket to the opera. Robert, who would never, in his wildest dreams, climb in through her bedroom window to give her underwear. And who would never expect her to parade in front of him in it, like some harlot.

"One minute."

"One minute. Are you crazy? Yes, I know. We've already established that. I am not standing in front of you in my underwear for a whole minute.

"Fifty seconds, then. Those things were bloody expensive."

"Good. Twenty."

"Forty."

"Thirty, and that's my final offer."

"All right, done." Mitch looked at his watch again and counted off the seconds. "Three, two, one. Go for it."

Jen pulled the robe apart, only now realising that he was seeing a lot more than the knickers. She almost wavered then, her trembling hands wanting to do nothing more than close the robe and run from the room. A room that was getting hotter and hotter as the seconds ticked away.

No blushing; she was in charge here, right? There was no way Mitch Anderson would keep his composure. He was obviously a complete idiot who never took anything seriously. But as she stood there in front of him she felt the atmosphere in the room changing. The air was suddenly thick and heavy and her chest heaved in an effort to breathe it in.

Mitch sat right up, blinked and cocked his head to one side, his lips slightly parted and a look of mild confusion on his face. His eyes scanned her body briefly and came back to rest on her face. If she hadn't known better, she would have said his expression was one of shock.

A sarcastic comment froze on the tip of her tongue as she stood there, not doing any of the things she'd planned to do. She'd been going to give him a bit of a show, get him all worked up and then swan imperiously away to her bath and leave him to stew. Instead, all she could do was stand there dumbly, with an expression much the same as he was sporting. The game had suddenly turned deadly serious. Someone had changed the rules, flipped a coin, and now she didn't know what to do. His thirty seconds were up, but she made no move to close the robe as he searched her eyes, and trapped her with the intensity of his gaze.

She probably would have stood there all night, robe open, if he hadn't shaken himself out of the haze that had descended on them both, and slipped quietly from the bed to close it for her.

"You play dirty, love." He leaned in and whispered it close to her ear, his voice low and barely there. His hot breath caressed her skin and she shivered. "It's really not fair."

He was still looking at her as he reached for the ties, warm fingers grazing her hip when he closed the gown. Jen found herself moving slightly into his touch, disappointed that it didn't last longer and that he was turning back towards the bed and picking up his jacket. He slipped it on, adjusted the collar, shook his head and muttered something to himself, as if he'd forgotten she was in the room.

Lifting his head, he studied her thoughtfully for a moment, and that's when she saw it. The person he really was behind all the bravado and the brashness. The person who hid behind that self-satisfied grin and wise-cracking talk.

She saw the fear and the uncertainty. The hopelessness and despair of a life lived on the edge.

And something else.

Regret.

For a split second when their eyes locked she saw it all, and that was the moment she fell in love with him. Only she didn't know it at the time, either.