Spellbound By The Single Dad. Lynne Marshall

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lifted Bonnie very carefully and positioned her. “Okay, now what?”

      “Tap her back lightly, so she can bring up any air bubbles that went down with the milk.”

      The towel wasn’t sitting quite in the middle of his shoulder and her fingers itched to smooth it out, but she knew he wanted to do this completely on his own, so she left it.

      After a few taps, Bonnie brought up a small amount of white liquid, which, unfortunately, landed squarely on Liam’s shirt. Jenna smothered a laugh as she said, “Don’t worry, it’s happened to me more times than I can count.”

      He turned his head to try and see the damage. “We might have to work on your aim, Bonnie Hawke. Or more likely, on my towel placement skills.”

      Jenna chuckled. “Here, let me take Bonnie so you can get that shirt off.”

      “Thanks,” he said, passing his daughter. “She’s one wink away from sleep anyway.”

      Jenna took the baby, whose eyes were already closed, rocked her a few times to make sure, then laid her in the crib. “Good night, beautiful,” she whispered.

      When she turned around, she was confronted by Liam’s bare chest. He was standing several feet away, but he was all she could see, and a tiny spark of electricity shot straight through her. He was balling the shirt in his hands and looking around the room, probably for the dirty clothes basket, which gave her precious moments to observe him unnoticed. She took advantage of them without thinking.

      His chest was solid with faint lines of definition and a sprinkling of dark hair. Her fingers itched to test the strength of the muscles there, to feel the crispness of the hair. Then she realized he’d stilled. She raised her gaze to his face only to find he was watching her. Her stomach fluttered. He took an infinitesimal step forward, as he reached out to stroke the side of her face then cup her cheek. His gaze fell to her mouth, and the nerve endings in her lips sprang to life, tingling. Yearning.

      This was wrong, she knew it was wrong, yet in this moment she couldn’t bring herself to care. All that mattered was Liam, and he was close, so close that her heart battered against her ribs.

      He lowered his head, ever so slowly, until his lips brushed hers. Delicious warmth spread through her body and she couldn’t contain the moan that escaped her throat. When his mouth settled more firmly and his tongue touched hers, she knew she’d reached heaven.

      She fell into the kiss—into Liam. His heat and scent. Sensation danced across every nerve in her body. She reached up, touching his bare chest with her fingertips, and she felt a shudder rip through him. The shirt he’d been holding fell to the floor as one of his hands snaked out to press her fingers more firmly against his skin, the other to wrap around behind her, hauling her against him.

      This kiss was more than anything she’d ever experienced—more intense, more uncontrollable, more glorious. Just more. And she’d never get enough. Of the kiss. Of Liam. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and she would have melted into the floor if he hadn’t been holding her up.

      And then he wrenched away, breathing heavily but with his gaze still locked on her. The air was cold on her chest where he’d been pressed only seconds before. The sudden absence of a kiss that had felt like her whole world caused her head to spin, and to stop herself reaching for him again, she rubbed her fingertips over her still tingling lips.

      His eyes tracked the action, then he speared his hands through his hair. “Jenna,” he said, groaning and stepping further away. “We can’t do that again.”

      “I know,” she whispered, trying to remember the reasons why. The job. She couldn’t jeopardize the job and Meg’s home.

      Furrows appeared across his forehead, as if he was trying to force his brain to work. “Kissing an employee,” he paused, swallowed, “is a breach of Hawke’s Blooms’ sexual harassment policy.” His voice was a monotone, as if he was merely reciting the policy, while his eyes were still on fire.

      “I don’t work for Hawke’s Blooms,” she pointed out, then winced. What was she doing arguing a point she agreed with? They couldn’t do it again. Shouldn’t have done it in the first place. It was madness.

      “No, but the principle is the same.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “You have a right to a workplace free of inappropriate advances.”

      The guilt on his face tore at her heart. “Liam, don’t get me wrong, I don’t think it should happen again either, but just to put your mind at ease...you didn’t pressure me. It was mutual.” She’d been dreaming of his kiss for too long to deny it.

      “Mutual?” he asked, eyes pained. “I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse.”

      She sighed, knowing what he meant. Resisting him would be so much harder now she knew he was thinking the same forbidden thoughts. She circled her throat with both hands as she willed her brain to kick into action. “Thing is, I can’t start something right now anyway. Not with my life in such disarray.”

      He frowned. “What’s in disarray? You have a job and a home. You and Meg seem relatively settled.”

      The blood in her veins froze. Had she given herself away? She silently cursed. This was the problem with letting your guard down—once it was down, there was no self-protection. No filter to protect your secrets. Thankfully, Liam seemed curious but not suspicious.

      “You’re right,” she said as breezily as she could manage. “We are. I meant that I’ll be returning to Larsland at some point, so starting something with you or anyone—it couldn’t go anywhere.”

      “Well, at least we’re in agreement,” he said, ruefully.

      She bent to pick up his shirt, needing to escape before she changed her mind. “I need a shower. I’ll take this down to Katherine—”

      “No, I’ve got it,” he said, his voice low. He reached for the shirt and for a long moment, they both held the fabric, connected through it. She could feel the air pulse with the heat between them.

      Then she quickly dropped her end. And fled.

       Seven

      “Princess Jensine?” said the voice on the other end of the line.

      Jenna settled back into the sofa and held her cell phone closer to her ear. “Hi, Kristen. Yes, it’s me,” she said in her native language. “Can you talk?”

      “Hang on.” There was a pause and a muffled noise. The time difference and Kristen’s shift work always made these calls to her friend in the royal security patrol difficult to plan, but they were the only way her family knew she was all right.

      “Okay, I’m back,” Kristen said.

      Jenna tucked her feet underneath her, looking forward to a conversation in her mother tongue. “How are you?”

      “I’m fine, but never mind that. How are you?”

      “I’m good. We’re good. This new job has been great—it has everything I need.” Although it also had something she didn’t need—an inconvenient

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