the best I could muster from the lads. This is Derbyshire, not London, remember.’
‘My fault I ripped the sump of the car then proceeded to smear the contents all over myself. I’ll take what I can get.’ Ed gave a rueful grin, as he looked down at the indecently tight jeans complete with rips, and the saggy, beyond-hope t-shirt someone had donated to his cause. He exhaled deeply, as he glanced at his shiny sports car, waiting for the recovery vehicle by the gate. He, of all people, should have known better. Would have known better if he’d been half-way concentrating, instead of raging because a month into this Dating Challenge, he still hadn’t found a suitable woman. Damn his sister and her determination to make sure the whole world paired up into happy couples. If he hadn’t been fuming about the Coupledom Challenge, instead of looking out for ruts in the ground, he’d still have a working car. He’d have to make do with the quarry Land Rover until a replacement arrived.
‘I feel like we should be smashing bottles of champagne against the cliffs, given all the effort we’ve put into getting the permissions to extend the quarry. I guess we’ll have just have to make do with the big bang instead,’ Ed said, a grin of anticipation playing on his lips. ‘Whenever you’re ready.’
However many explosions he saw, he never tired of the thrill of a good blast. Ten years in the boardroom and yet the warning siren’s wail still sent prickles across the back of his neck as he trained his eyes on the rock face. Then in the split second before the blast, a rider on a horse cut across the skyline, up behind the blast area.
What the hell? There shouldn’t be anyone up there!
Then the boom of the blast smacked against his body, and he heard the echoing thud as the rock-face collapsed. But Ed wasn’t watching the falling rock. Because above it, the horse was jack-knifing into the air. Against the backdrop of the perfect blue sky Ed watched transfixed, as the horse and rider separated, and the rider tumbled downwards, out of view. Then the dust rose, in billowing rolls over the rock-pile, and just before the dust haze turned the blue sky grey, he saw the rider less horse galloping against the horizon.
‘There’s a problem in the field up there! Damned stupid riders.’ Ed hurled himself in the direction of the Land Rover, grinding his teeth on grit.
Within seconds he was roaring towards the quarry gate, powered by a whole mountain of wrath. He was still cursing, minutes later, up in the field, as he jumped down beside the casualty.
A girl. And the fact she’d left her riding hat on the gatepost suggested she had no brains to protect. A blonde, albeit a dirty one. Spread-eagled on the grass. In tiny shorts, and with curvy, honeyed legs, that sent crackles up his spine and made him remind himself he shouldn’t be noticing.
His eye snagged on the tendrils of a tattoo that emerged from the top of her boot.
‘Can you hear me?' The anger drained from him as he waited for her reply. He made the words clear. ‘I’m Ed, I’m here to help. What’s your name?’ He was going through the routine now, and she damned well wasn’t responding. No chance of ringing for an ambulance either, the way the signal was here.
She was very still, face to the sky, blanched beneath her freckled tan. He shivered as he saw blood on the grass, already matting in the tangled strands of her hair, his heart banging, as his training kicked in.
Airways, breathing, circulation.
Bearing in mind not to move her spine, he squatted beside her, and grasped her wrist, wincing at the tightness of his on-loan jeans. Tried not to notice that she smelled of flowers. Vanilla. Warmth. Woman.
Nothing. Damn. He was always crap at finding a pulse. He dragged her hair aside, tried again. This time two fingers under her jaw found firm flesh, slightly clammy, but still no pulse.
He put his cheek to her slightly parted lips. Waited a second to see if she was breathing.
Nothing.
Ninety nine percent sure she was just unconscious, her lack of pulse was down to his lousy technique at locating it, and not because she was dead. But what the hell should he do now? He couldn’t just stand here and do nothing. He stood up, ran his eyes down the length of her, his brain struggling to remember his first aid training. Whether to go for her chest first, where one top button had pulled undone, and, let’s be honest, he might never find a breastbone. Or her mouth.
It was never like this on the first-aid dummies.
He was on his knees now, sizing up lips that were lush, soft, parted, but altogether easier than the alternative. He needed to damn well get on with it before he ran out of time.
Focusing on the graze of mud on her cheek, he nipped her nostrils, grasped her chin. He drew in one long breath through his nose, clamped his mouth over hers and psyched himself up to blow.
Wallop!
One arm flopped up and clamped the back of his head. Then her other landed square on his back.
What the hell?
Her tongue feathered his for a moment, and then came in for the kill, as his already thumping heart exploded in his chest. He fought to pull away but she had him in a head lock, exploring, tangling with him. Drawing him in.
Salty. Gritty. Entirely off limits. And then, in sheer relief that she was alive, he was kissing her back, an ocean-rush of blood hammering in his ears, his whole body on adrenalin-surge, endorphin-pumping, red-alert. Hotter than he could say. Knowing it was out and out wrong, hearing the gentle moans in her throat, but nothing he could do.
Except go with it.
***
Millie Brown was drifting, and dreaming, a thing she tried her best not to do. Even in her sleep, she liked to stay in control, and largely she managed to keep her sleeping mind a blank. But something odd had happened, and she was plunging headlong into a full-on sexy-scenario dream she was powerless to stop.
Right now, a guy with a voice like dark chocolate, was capturing her mouth, and tasting delicious. Cappuccino and hot, raw man. Definitely not love-rat-of-the-decade ex, Josh, then. Who she definitely was over, wasn’t she? No, this was a guy who could really kiss. Talk about tongues and technique. Two years without a snog, but she still knew a high quality kiss when it hit her. And he was ramping it up. In for the kill, and boy, she was happy to die and fast-forward to heaven. Heaven was definitely where she’d arrived, as she shifted beneath him, heard herself moan in the distance, aching for more amazing. Even the sting of his stubble on her chin was delectable. Could almost be .…
Real?
Slowly, she slid her fingers through the strands of his hair, traced them across the alarmingly tangible thrust of his cheekbone, and brought her palm to rest on a rough jaw that sent tingles up her arm. Horribly real tingles.
She opened her eyes. Blinked. Blinked again.
Awwww crap! Her stomach squelched, and her heart did one huge squeeze, then started to hammer, as the very real man who was kissing her tore his face away from hers.
She put a hand to her mouth. Found the hottest kiss ever had morphed into a gaping chasm. And as her eyes finally pulled into focus she heard that chocolate voice again.
‘Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty!’
Millie struggled to catch her breath.
