Bride for Glenmore by Sarah Morgan

wearing the jeans but she’d added a pair of sexy heels and a pretty cardigan in a shade of blue that matched her eyes.
    ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ she said cheerfully, reaching for mugs and coffee, ‘and we can take it down to the beach if you like. It’s lovely to sit on the sand in the dark and watch the stars.’
    He felt a sudden rush of heat through his body. ‘Here is fine,’ he said hoarsely, running a hand over the back of his neck. He didn’t need the darkness or stars. ‘The kitchen is fine.’ There was nothing romantic about fluorescent light.
    ‘All right. If that’s what you prefer.’ She shot him a curious look and spooned fresh coffee into a cafetière. ‘Do you realise that you’ve been here for two weeks and I still know hardly anything about you? We’ve been so busy we’ve hardly exchanged more than two words.’
    And that was the way he’d wanted it. ‘There’s not much to know about me.’
    ‘You mean there’s not much you want to tell.’ She poured water into the pot. ‘Where did you work last?’
    Hell? ‘Abroad.’
    She gave a soft laugh and turned to face him. ‘You don’t give anything away, do you, Ethan? Did anyone ever tell you that one-word answers don’t make a conversation?’
    ‘I’m not that great at conversation. You should have worked that out by now.’ She had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen and her legs looked impossibly long. ‘I ought to go…’
    She hesitated and then walked towards him, narrowing the distance that he’d carefully placed between them. ‘You haven’t drunk your coffee.’
    He wasn’t even sure who touched who first.
    He just knew that one moment he was standing there full of good intentions and then next she had her arms wrapped round his neck and his mouth was hard on hers.
    His good intentions dissolved, as did his conscience and all the other better parts of his nature that had been holding him back.
    His hands traced the soft curves that his eyes had already admired. His mouth devouring hers, he slid his hands over her hips, then over her bottom, anchoring her against him. The taste and the scent of her threatened to overwhelm him and he dragged his mouth away from hers and pressed his lips against her neck.
    ‘Ethan…’ She murmured his name and pressed closer and that movement alone was enough to snap the last of his self-control.
    His mouth found hers again and his hands moved to the hem of her top, sliding underneath, finding the smooth, tanned skin that he’d admired earlier.
    Her breasts pressed into his hands and he almost lost control as he felt her nipples peak under the brush of his fingers and heard her soft gasp of pleasure.
    He lifted his head and their mouths met again in a fierce kiss, each demanding of the other, each hungry and possessive and increasingly desperate. His entire body was consumed by a ferocious heat and he felt her hands shaking as they struggled with the buttons on his shirt.
    It was the touch of her fingers against his bare chest that brought him to his senses.
    Another minute more and neither of them would have stopped.
    ‘Kyla…’ With difficulty he broke his mouth from hers and forced his hands to release her smooth, golden flesh ‘…we have to stop. This isn’t a good idea.’
    She gave a whimper of protest and leaned in towards him again, but he stepped backwards, breathing heavily.
    ‘Kyla, no.’
    She blinked, her eyes dazed and disorientated. ‘Why—? What?’ Her mouth was soft and bruised from his kiss and he gritted his teeth and reminded himself that she knew nothing about him.
    She didn’t know who he was or why he was there. But when she did… ‘Trust me. This is a mistake.’
    She took a step back and when she spoke, her voice was soft. ‘Did it feel like a mistake, Ethan?’
    Physically, no. But he had more sense than to take that route given the present set of circumstance. ‘We need to forget this happened.’
    ‘Why?’ Her blue eyes studied his face,