and he didn’t disappoint. He devoured her mouth, plundering its softness, branding hers lips with his own. It wasn’t hard or savage, just thorough. It was like this kiss was his sales pitch and he was giving her all he had.
It went on and on, sucking her every breath from her body, shattering the memory of any kiss she’d ever had before this one. They were nothing compared to this. It was blinding and drugging and left her wanting more.
She clung to him, revelling in her sweet surrender. The lyrics of an old country song came to her mind. ‘I feel sorry for any one who isn’t me tonight.’ She’d reached nirvana.
He pulled back and she gasped in a ragged breath. They stilled and he rested his forehead against hers as their breathing settled.
‘Claire …?’ he murmured in a throaty whisper.
And it brought her crashing back to the real world. She straightened up and he dropped his arms, allowing her some space to move away. She crossed to the window, completely oblivious to the million-dollar view of Brisbane’s skyscrapers.
I can’t let this happen. I can’t. The frantic beating of her heart refused to settle and Claire knew it needed a prod.
‘So.’ She cleared her throat. Even to her own ears she sounded like a woman who’d just been kissed—breathy and husky. She turned to face him. ‘No more flowers, right?’
‘You used me,’ he accused, laughter in his voice.
Yeah, right. He looked like someone who’d been used and abused, completely against his will. More like the cat that had swallowed the bloody canary.
‘You practically sexually harassed me. You deserved it.’
‘Good point,’ he said, straightening his tie. ‘No more flowers. I promise.’
He looked so appealing, standing there all rumpled and obviously affected by their kiss. She had to get out of there before she threw him on his desk and he could accuse her of sexual harassment. It had been a long time.
‘As if that’s worth the paper it’s written on,’ she quipped, walking past him with her head held high. She didn’t look back, just walked straight out of his door and closed it firmly.
* * *
Claire spent the weekend in a flurry of activity. The entire house, inside and out, was cleaned. The garden was weeded. Her car was washed. Idle time was her enemy.
The minute she stopped doing something memories of Friday and the kiss would crowd in and then other thoughts and feelings that she couldn’t afford to nurture came along, too. She needed to work. She had to work! Anything to stop herself from thinking.
She mustn’t entertain fanciful thoughts. Just because he had kissed her like she’d never been kissed before, it was no reason to go and lose her head. There were too many reasons why it wouldn’t work.
She fell into bed each night exhausted, hoping for the kind of sleep that was deep and dreamless. But even in sleep he occupied space in her head and she woke each morning tired and cranky and confused. Damn him!
* * *
On Monday, a box of sinfully rich chocolate truffles, beautifully gift-wrapped, was waiting for her. Great. Her biggest weakness next to flowers and men with red hair. She groaned and opened the card.
NO FLOWERS. A PROMISE IS A PROMISE.
Campbell was again conspicuous by his absence as each day a box of chocolates arrived. She gave them away, too, but did allow herself the odd indulgence from each box. She wasn’t weakening, she was just being practical. A person had to eat.
A week passed and Campbell hadn’t contacted her. The weekend came and went and Monday morning saw another delivery of chocolates, more heavenly than the last five. Claire knew she should ring him and demand that he stop, but with their kiss and its emotional fallout still fresh in her mind she didn’t think she was up to another audience with Campbell.
She knew it was the reason for his silence. He was biding his time until she tired again of his persistence and initiated contact. This time she wasn’t going to give him another opportunity to steal a kiss.
Claire put the fact that she’d actually kissed him to one side. He’d probably had it planned all along. The minute she’d walked into his office … probably even before that. She’d bet he’d been plotting how to get a kiss from her.
And despite all the reasons she shouldn’t, Claire doubted she could be strong enough to resist a second taste of his lips. Never in all her experience of men had she ever met the like of Campbell. Rationally she knew that starting something wasn’t possible or even fair, but she was struggling with an inner resistance that seemed to have sprung from nowhere.
Claire opened the box and absently chose a chocolate, her mind reliving the kiss for the hundredth time. Her phone rang and she was grateful for its intrusion. She’d spent far too much time daydreaming about Campbell lately.
* * *
Campbell was smiling as he shut the door. What a great way to end the week and put you in a good mood—delivering a baby. And what a whopper! Four and a half kilos! No wonder the mother, who had endured a long and exhausting labour, had required some suturing. As Campbell strode past the nurses’ station the sweet aroma of chocolate wafted out to meet him. His stomach grumbled and he realised it was lunchtime.
He chose a chocolate and popped it into his mouth. He knew they were the ones he’d ordered for Claire this morning. He’d specifically asked for a box of heart-shaped chocolates. Her continual rebuffing was beginning to irk. Especially when he saw his gifts being enjoyed by the entire St Jude’s nursing staff. Especially when he couldn’t sleep at night from thinking about that kiss.
‘Great chocolates, Campbell. Thanks,’ said one of the labour ward nurses with a cheeky grin as she chose one and scurried off.
Campbell straightened his tie, took another chocolate and decided it was now or never. He wondered if Claire liked chocolate-flavoured kisses. He had to have more of her sweet lips.
He found her at her desk, writing industriously in a chart. She hadn’t heard him so he lounged against the doorframe for a while. The heavy swing of her raven hair obscured her face, so on she wrote, completely oblivious to his presence. He liked being near her. Even with an office and several desks’ distance between them, he could feel his body’s cells responding. It was hard for him to describe what it was, the feeling was so basic, so elemental. But he liked it.
‘You look like you could do with some lunch, Sister West.’ He watched as her pen stilled and she slowly peeked out from behind the curtain of her hair. ‘Hello, Claire. How are you?’
‘Four kilos heavier, thanks to you. Lunch is out—I’m on a diet.’
‘So …’ he laughed ‘… you didn’t give them all away?’
‘I sampled a few,’ she said, and turned back to her notes.
Claire allowed her hair to swing forward again. Seeing him so unexpectedly had brought him squarely back into her focus. And in the last few days she’d been doing so well, relegating him to the far reaches of her grey matter. Only her dreams visited him there.
‘Lunch,
