The Abby Green Modern Collection. ABBY GREEN
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He let her lead him downstairs, into the car. At the great age of twenty-seven Maggie had, unbelievably, never driven anything bigger than the Mini and took a few minutes to feel the much bigger car. She squashed the nervous feeling and trepidation, not wanting to give John anything else to worry about. With a bright smile that hid her nerves and sweaty hands, she pulled out into the manic rush hour traffic.
Some time later, after making sure John was stable and settled into a bed in the hospital, she left. She’d have just enough time to make it to the airport. The car seemed even more daunting now when she got in, not having John by her side to point things out.
Through sheer guts and determination, Maggie managed to navigate it out of the city and on to the main airport road. Finally she managed to loosen her white-knuckle grip on the wheel.
Miraculously she found a parking space, managed not to hit anything and sat there for a few minutes taking deep breaths. She smiled wryly at herself; this was certainly one way to take her mind off Caleb, driving a car worth at least a hundred thousand and three times the size of her own. In the VIP airport arrivals area, John had told her where to wait, as Caleb was due in on a private jet. She stood and waited, her nerves coming back a thousandfold. Would he be surprised? Pleased? Angry?
He was tired. God, he was tired. He’d never felt so tired in all his life. His eyes were gritty behind his lids as he waited for his luggage to be delivered to him. And all he could see was Maggie. He cursed himself again. He could have brought her with him. It wouldn’t have made the slightest bit of difference to his concentration levels and might have actually helped them. She’d managed to invade his every waking thought, every sleeping moment. He’d hoped that the trip might prove to him that she was losing her hold on him, on his desire. If anything it was even stronger. One night he’d had to endure a dinner party where he’d been presented with woman after woman, available for his pleasure. They’d been stunning, the crème de la crème of New York society, models, actresses. And they’d done nothing for him. All he’d wanted was…Maggie. And it tore him up inside to admit it.
Finally his luggage arrived and he walked out, looking to the usual spot for John. And then he saw her. The joy that ripped through him nearly threw him off balance. He felt dizzy for a second. Was he conjuring her up? She was looking away; he saw her in profile. Her hair a shock of red against her light green cardigan, wrapped around a short shift dress. Bare legs, flip flops.
And then she turned and looked straight at him with those huge green eyes, ringed with the longest black lashes. He saw her eyes widen; she slightly lifted a hand awkwardly and it dropped slowly.
Why was he looking at her so angrily? She steeled her heart, which had somersaulted on seeing him, and hitched her chin.
He came over, face shuttered. Stern. ‘Where’s John?’
She blocked the hurt that he’d asked for John first and remembered him guiltily. ‘He’s in hospital—’
‘What?’
She put a hand on his arm. ‘He’s fine. It’s an ongoing angina problem and it flared up. I brought him in and insisted on coming to collect you; he was so worried…’ She took her hand away awkwardly.
He rubbed a weary hand over his eyes and Maggie noticed how tired he was.
‘Really, he’s going to be fine. He just needs to be observed for twenty-four hours.’
‘Okay.’ He looked at her then, blue eyes pinning her to the spot. A hand reached out and he trailed a finger down one cheek. ‘And you?’
She gulped for a breath and just shrugged, nodding. She couldn’t even speak. She was useless.
‘Thank you for looking after John.’
She shrugged again. ‘It’s fine. I was hardly going to insist he pick you up or leave him there. The car is parked nearby.’
‘You drove his car?’
‘Yes, Caleb.’ Her dry tone belied the turmoil it had taken to drive there.
When they reached it, she couldn’t resist saying cheekily, ‘I was going to bring the Mini but was afraid your ego wouldn’t fit…’
He smiled a rare smile and felt a burst of pleasure at her irreverence; it was something he never encountered. ‘Ha, ha.’
He automatically went to the driver’s side and Maggie could see him pass a hand over his eyes. He looked pale with exhaustion.
He gestured for the keys. She shook her head. ‘You’re not driving; you’re half asleep.’
‘Maggie—’
She was so firm, she surprised him. ‘No way.’
She promptly got into the driver’s seat and, short of pulling her back out, Caleb had no choice. Frankly he was too tired to argue. He sat in the passenger seat. He could feel his eyes drift shut; couldn’t keep them open. His last waking thoughts were that he’d never ever been met by a woman at the airport before, how much he’d liked it…and that he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had driven him. And yet, of all women, Maggie had done these two things. And he knew in his exhausted, vulnerable state, before his mind could jump in and deny it, that he wouldn’t have wanted to see anyone else there. The darkness enfolded him.
That night, after dinner, Maggie was preparing for bed. In the bathroom, she took her hair out of the clip and it fell around her shoulders and down her back. She couldn’t mistake the light in her eyes. For him. Because he was back. A flush stained her cheeks. The silk peignoir felt almost painfully sensuous against her heated skin.
This was so dangerous. She knew it. Like being in a car going a hundred miles an hour, hurtling towards a brick wall with no brakes.
She resolutely turned off the light and went into the bedroom. Her heart turned over when she saw the scene in front of her. Caleb, asleep on the bed, sheets pulled up to his waist, chest bare. A lock of hair had fallen forward and he looked so achingly handsome that Maggie couldn’t breathe for a moment.
He sleeps…
As if in a dream, she walked over and sat down beside him on the edge of the bed. He didn’t move. She reached out a hand and smoothed his hair back and brought her finger to her lip and kissed it before pressing it lightly against his mouth.
Without opening his eyes, he grabbed her wrist lightly. He pressed a kiss against the pulse fluttering against the delicate inner skin. He opened slumberous eyes and Maggie was trapped. He brought her inexorably forward until she was lying against his chest, her breasts crushed against him. He made a slow, thorough study of her face and then down, to where he could see the voluptuous V of her cleavage.
‘Caleb…we don’t…you’re too tired…’
He shook his head. ‘Not too tired for this, ever…’
And with a fluid, graceful movement he rolled her over until she was on her back and he hovered over her. With a hand caressing her face, he bent and met her mouth with his, in a sensual onslaught that washed