The Men In Uniform Collection. Barbara McMahon
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She whimpered but didn’t move away. His target was mere inches from him, two perfect lips that parted on a single word as she sagged in his arms.
‘Clint…’
That one syllable on her lips hit him in a place he’d forgotten he even had. Deep, deep inside. Did she even notice she’d finally said his name? God, he burned to see how the word tasted on her lips. But she had to want this, and not simply because it made her feel better.
‘Romy…’ His voice was thick with lust, his body screaming for things he hadn’t addressed in a long time. ‘I’m going to kiss you.’
That sexy mouth twisted in a satisfied smile and her thick voice was almost drowsy with desire. ‘You are kissing me, Clint…’
He moved in closer, his mouth scant millimetres from hers, hovering a hair’s-breadth from heaven. Her soft breath brushed warmly against his lips.
Just millimetres…
‘No. Really kiss you.’
He was aware, at once, of every place her body pushed against his. The softness of her belly where his hips pressed, the sensation of full breasts crushed low against his chest, the angle of her face as she tipped her mouth up to nearly touch his. His body jerked. So very nearly…
‘I’m asking, Romy…’ His words were mostly a whisper against her lips. ‘I’m looking for permission to proceed.’
It was pure instinct. The language that was such a part of him tumbled off his lips unconsciously. Romy’s eyes flew open and stark desperation frosted them over. She suddenly found strength and pushed hard against him, staggering away from the kiss he still burned to seal against her lush lips.
‘Oh, God…’ she choked, backing off. ‘What am I…? What are we doing?’
Easy, McLeish. She was like a live grenade. Sans pin. He took a step towards her, trying to lessen the distance she’d forced between them. If she bolted out of here now she was just as likely to hurt herself. And possibly never return.
‘I think we were about to test the definition of colleagues,’ he said.
She latched onto that. ‘You’re my boss! I can’t do this!’
He held her eye. ‘If you can’t, that’s okay. But don’t hide behind the boss thing. The two of us were never going to have a conventional employee-employer relationship. And you know it.’
‘No!’ Her breasts heaved up and down, hypnotically distracting in his periphery. Clint forced himself to keep his eyes on hers. Her fear was signposted in them.
‘I’m a different man, Romy. I’m not him,’ he said.
She backed hard into the kitchen bench. He raised his hands carefully to his side to try and lessen the impact of him standing between her and the door. That wasn’t going to improve matters.
‘You’re military!’
‘That’s what I did. Not who I am.’
She shook her head, her senses returning with a vengeance. ‘No. You are every bit military, regardless of how long you’ve been out of it.’
‘That still doesn’t make me like him.’ Although in his gut he knew it did. In part.
She took a deep breath. ‘Take me home.’
He stepped towards her. Her hands came up. ‘Romy…’
‘Then I’ll drive myself, give me the keys.’
‘Don’t do this…’
‘Fine, I’ll walk.’
She pushed away from the bench and straight past him, more than ready for a fight. He stepped clear and let her pass, but dogged her heels to the exit and down the outside stairs. He’d led enough men to know when a strategic retreat was required.
Time to regroup and reassess.
‘I’ll drive you, Romy. And I’ll leave you at your door. And I won’t so much as touch you again.’
Tonight.
She turned and stared at him through enormous, bright eyes. Great…this is how they got into this mess. He was a sucker for waterworks.
The mile drive was brutal. Neither of them spoke—no surprise, but he’d never considered his old friend silence an adversary before. It ate at his nerves as he pulled up in front of her cottage. He no longer thought of it as his parents’ place, only Romy’s.
The moment he yanked on the handbrake, she was out the door. His father’s manners made him step out of the driver’s seat. She turned when she hit the front verandah.
‘This is not about you, Clint,’ she disarmed him by saying, not quite able to meet his eyes. ‘But this is about what you do. Did. I cannot be with a man who has any part of my father in him. I can’t have Leighton exposed to that. If you can honestly tell me there’s no part of you that’s like him, then I’ll listen. I swear I will.’
Her eyes were like dinner plates in her pale face. Clint thought about his time as an operative. The good men he’d pushed just short of breaking point. The things he’d seen…done. And the things he’d been unable to reconcile himself to. The military was deeply embedded in his soul and, even now, he struggled to remember he wasn’t about unit, corps, God, country, any more.
He was nothing like Leighton’s grandfather…yet everything like him.
And so he stayed silent. Even though every part of him wanted to fight to get back the moment they’d so very nearly shared. The moment when something fundamental had shifted in his universe. In his soul.
Instead, he stared silently at her.
She nodded sadly and turned for the house. ‘Goodnight, Clint.’
Then she was gone. He slumped in the ute and slammed his hand against the aging dash. He’d spent a lifetime controlling his emotions but it took him more than a minute to get them under command now.
ANOTHER damaged fence kept Romy busy. As fast as she patched them up, more breaches appeared. Not that being thoroughly occupied was a bad thing, but her already filthy mood wasn’t improved any by spending a second afternoon in the Australian sun straining wire.
Stop your whining, girl, and get on with it. She heard the Colonel’s hard voice barking at her as though he were right there on the hill. Instinctively she sucked in her breath and straightened her spine. She yanked the final wire tight and stood back to examine her work.
It was getting harder to imagine this was only kids sneaking onto the property for an unauthorised swim or a farmer helping himself to fruit. Simone told her they’d not had breaches like this before so why the difference