Fiancee By Mistake. Kate Walker

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Fiancee By Mistake - Kate Walker Mills & Boon Modern

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was curt, sharply dismissive, but what else had she expected? After all, her own inner unease had tightened her throat, making her declaration sound uncharacteristically tart and cold.

      And, to compound the problem, her undignified scramble to get out of the car without any help had taken more effort than she’d realised. It had also resulted in the rucking up of the skirt of her red velvet dress, pulling it high up on her thighs.

      Not for the first time Leah cursed the way her sudden decision to spend an extra day of the Christmas holidays at home had meant leaving in a rush straight after the agency’s party.

      Her mother wasn’t even expecting her, believing that she wouldn’t be setting out until tomorrow morning. But Paula Elliot had sounded so sad and lonely when Leah had phoned her that she had decided on impulse to leave earlier. After all, Christmas was a time for families, and, without her father there, there was only Leah herself to fill that space in her mother’s life.

      If she had planned more carefully, she could have found time to change into something much more appropriate for the long drive north. As it was, not anticipating the blizzard conditions that had set in once she was on the motorway, she had simply pulled on a warm coat over her party wear.

      But a tight velvet Lycra sheath was definitely not the easiest of garments in which to manoeuvre her way out of a car perched at such a difficult angle. Particularly not with six feet two of very masculine hunk watching her every move with blatantly appraising interest.

      ‘Very nice,’ he murmured as Leah inched her way forward, wanting desperately to be upright and decently covered again as quickly as possible.

      Those amazing blue eyes were on the slender length of her legs, brightening noticeably as an unwary movement pushed the tight skirt even higher, revealing the pale flesh of her thighs above the lacy tops of her stockings.

      ‘So tell me, what do you do for an encore?’ he asked provocatively.

      ‘Nothing!’

      Leah aimed for freezing distance and missed it by a mile. Her snapped retort ended with a gasp of shock as, with her feet finally on the ground, she realised just how icy the road had become. The worn leather soles of the old shoes she wore for driving had no grip at all on the treacherous surface, and she felt her feet begin to slide from under her.

      With a cry of panic, her hand went out automatically to grab at the nearest thing for support.

      The ‘nearest thing’ was Sean Gallagher’s arm. Leah’s flailing fingers closed over the soft wool of his jacket sleeve just as, reacting with swift reflexes, he moved his other hand to come round her waist. He took the full weight of her body on that one arm with as much ease as if she had been a petite slip of a thing, and not five feet ten in her stockinged feet and built on decidedly generous lines, with curving hips and softly voluptuous breasts.

      ‘There will be no encore, Mr Gallagher!’ Leah managed, rather breathlessly.

      ‘Pity,’ he drawled. ‘I was enjoying the show.’

      He didn’t react to her use of his name. Probably he was well used to having people, especially women, recognise him immediately. It would be one of the burdens of fame.

      Or, more likely, this man would consider it one of the perks of his job. Certainly he had appeared in the gossip columns as frequently as he had on the television, and with an ever-changing cast of beautiful women in the role of his partner.

      Though just lately she hadn’t read very much about him, Leah recalled. Probably because he had been busy filming the latest series of Inspector Callender. She doubted very much that his social life could have ground to any sort of halt.

      ‘You put on a great performance.’

      Leah could hear the smile in Sean’s voice even though she couldn’t see his face. She was pressed against his chest, held too close to be able to look up at him.

      “‘Performance”!’ she spluttered, struggling to twist free from the strength of his hold. ‘It was no such thing! If you think—’

      But movement was a mistake. Instead of loosening his grip, he tightened it painfully, crushing her even closer to the warmth of his body. She was so near to him that she could feel the steady beating of his heart under her cheek.

      ‘Calm down.’ His voice was softer now, warm as the touch of his hand on her face, stilling her instantly. ‘You’ve had a shock. Take a minute or so to recover. Breathe slowly, deeply.’

      Soothed by the gentle stroke of his thumb over her cheek, Leah obeyed automatically. But if breathing deeply was meant to calm her, it had exactly the opposite effect. It only added to her awareness of him in a new and disturbing way. The scent of some clean, tangy cologne tantalised her nostrils, but mixed in with it was the subtle, uniquely personal scent that was his alone.

      Leah suddenly felt as if something had short-circuited inside her brain. She couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t focus on anything other than the warmth and strength that enclosed her, the pressure of Sean’s body all along the length of her own.

      Her heart seemed to be racing in double time, sending her blood pounding through her veins until her head swam. There was a hot, tight knot of excitement deep inside her that, contrarily, made her shiver convulsively.

      ‘Are you cold?’

      Being so very close, Sean couldn’t have missed her reaction. His hands closed over her arms, sliding under her coat, smoothing the soft skin below the short sleeves of her dress.

      ‘You’re frozen!’ Concern sounded in his voice and he increased the pressure of his touch. ‘You need to get your blood moving…’

      How could that be? Leah wondered dazedly. How could her skin be cold when inside she felt so burning hot? And her blood didn’t need any assistance. Already it was searing through her with the white-hot force of molten lava.

      There was one thing she did need, though, and the force of that desire was so great that she just couldn’t fight it.

      With a low murmur of sensual awareness, she lifted her head and pressed her lips to Sean Gallagher’s neck, her mouth soft against the warm strength of the taut muscle of his throat. The roughness of a day’s growth of stubble abraded her cheek and the faint salt taste of his skin made her tongue tingle.

      For the space of a heartbeat she felt him stiffen in shock, and knew the fear of rejection. That momentary panic was enough to bring home to her the foolishness of what she had just done, but before she had time to react the hostile tension in his long body suddenly changed to a new and very different sort of awareness. Leah had perhaps a second or two to register the change before he moved again.

      ‘So that’s your game, is it?’ he muttered, swinging her round sharply, so that instead of being at his side she was now clamped firmly against him.

      Her breasts were crushed against the hard wall of his chest, her pelvis tight against his. Then, as he leaned back against her car, he pulled her between his legs so that she felt enclosed by him on three sides. The bite of the wind receded as she felt the heat of his body reach her even through the layers of their clothes.

      Sean’s mouth came down onto hers, taking it without care or consideration, crushing her lips back against her teeth and forcing a cry of shocked response from her. If

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