plane. “I’d fly back with you, but I have to meet the band in Tokyo for the second leg of our tour. Our schedule is fairly tight, and I’m afraid I can’t deviate from it.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “I’m not ready to say goodbye to you, Miranda.”
She stared at the asphalt. If she looked into his eyes for one second longer, she would never be able to get on the plane. Most men had a way of cloaking their feelings, either by avoiding eye contact or by lying outright. Lucas’s eyes hid nothing. His emotions were naked and honest and, for Miranda, overwhelming.
“Did you have a good visit?” he asked.
She finally lifted her face. “I had the best sleep of my life.”
“I hope that wasn’t the highlight,” Lucas remarked. The sky was overcast, as it often was in the north of Wales, and the absence of sun left the air chilled. Lucas didn’t mind the grey sky or the cold, not with the bright shine of Miranda’s magical eyes on him.
She smiled, unwittingly giving herself a firmer hold on Lucas’s heart. “It wasn’t.” Having Fenway Franks in a seven-hundred-year-old kitchen had been nice. Knowing that he’d slept with her—without sleeping with her—had been really nice. But the best had been sitting in his arms beneath the full moon and having him genuinely listen to the secret contents of her heart. “I had a very nice weekend,” she said. “The commute stinks, but other than that…it was perfect.”
“Do you think Mr. Reilly had a good time?”
Miranda nodded toward the limo. The driver and one of the flight attendants were trying to pry Bernie’s fingers from the frame of the door. “I think he wants to stay.”
“Conwy could use a good music reviewer. And a sports writer.”
“The perfect gifts for the man who has everyone,” Miranda joked somberly. “ Thing! ” she blurted. “I meant—”
The backs of his fingers tickled over her temple as he brushed a windblown tress from her face. “I know what you meant.”
She wanted to kick herself for ruining their farewell with a lousy Freudian slip, and there was nothing she could do now but to end it quickly. She held out her hand. “I had a great time. Thank you. And thank you for helping me at the concert. For saving my life.”
He took her hand in both of his and gave it a warm squeeze. “It was my pleasure, Mir—” was all he got out before she tossed an arm around his neck and drew him in for a kiss. He jumped on her lead, deepening the kiss as he wrapped his arms around her and brought her into his coat. Her hands moved through his hair, luxuriating in its softness while she savored the heat and taste of his mouth. Her fingertips played over the lean planes of his face, memorizing the feel of him, and she let herself go lightheaded rather than break their kiss to breathe.
Go , the sensible part of her brain told her, but her heart was too busy with its gymnastics routine to listen.
Go , girl! her brain insisted, even as her hips pressed more firmly into Lucas.
Jordan , her brain sang matter-of-factly. The name was like a bucket of ice water, and Miranda abruptly backed away from Lucas, leaving him bewildered and panting.
“You changed your mind about kissing me,” he gasped. Her kisses had stolen all but the obvious.
“What harm can it do?” She touched her lips, which were ripe from his kisses. “I’ll never see you again. Goodbye, Lucas.” She turned and fled up the portable staircase that had been parked alongside the plane.
“You’re wrong about that, love,” he whispered as she vanished inside the plane.
Chapter 5
Miranda stared at her sister from across the table. Calista Penney lived up to the meaning of her name, “most beautiful.” Like their mother, she was negro branca , and her long, thick hair was more curly than wavy. Her black eyes, another gift from their mother, crackled with vitality. Calista had a lush bosom, full, rounded hips and a small waist; basically the body of
She stared at the asphalt. If she looked into his eyes for one second longer, she would never be able to get on the plane. Most men had a way of cloaking their feelings, either by avoiding eye contact or by lying outright. Lucas’s eyes hid nothing. His emotions were naked and honest and, for Miranda, overwhelming.
“Did you have a good visit?” he asked.
She finally lifted her face. “I had the best sleep of my life.”
“I hope that wasn’t the highlight,” Lucas remarked. The sky was overcast, as it often was in the north of Wales, and the absence of sun left the air chilled. Lucas didn’t mind the grey sky or the cold, not with the bright shine of Miranda’s magical eyes on him.
She smiled, unwittingly giving herself a firmer hold on Lucas’s heart. “It wasn’t.” Having Fenway Franks in a seven-hundred-year-old kitchen had been nice. Knowing that he’d slept with her—without sleeping with her—had been really nice. But the best had been sitting in his arms beneath the full moon and having him genuinely listen to the secret contents of her heart. “I had a very nice weekend,” she said. “The commute stinks, but other than that…it was perfect.”
“Do you think Mr. Reilly had a good time?”
Miranda nodded toward the limo. The driver and one of the flight attendants were trying to pry Bernie’s fingers from the frame of the door. “I think he wants to stay.”
“Conwy could use a good music reviewer. And a sports writer.”
“The perfect gifts for the man who has everyone,” Miranda joked somberly. “ Thing! ” she blurted. “I meant—”
The backs of his fingers tickled over her temple as he brushed a windblown tress from her face. “I know what you meant.”
She wanted to kick herself for ruining their farewell with a lousy Freudian slip, and there was nothing she could do now but to end it quickly. She held out her hand. “I had a great time. Thank you. And thank you for helping me at the concert. For saving my life.”
He took her hand in both of his and gave it a warm squeeze. “It was my pleasure, Mir—” was all he got out before she tossed an arm around his neck and drew him in for a kiss. He jumped on her lead, deepening the kiss as he wrapped his arms around her and brought her into his coat. Her hands moved through his hair, luxuriating in its softness while she savored the heat and taste of his mouth. Her fingertips played over the lean planes of his face, memorizing the feel of him, and she let herself go lightheaded rather than break their kiss to breathe.
Go , the sensible part of her brain told her, but her heart was too busy with its gymnastics routine to listen.
Go , girl! her brain insisted, even as her hips pressed more firmly into Lucas.
Jordan , her brain sang matter-of-factly. The name was like a bucket of ice water, and Miranda abruptly backed away from Lucas, leaving him bewildered and panting.
“You changed your mind about kissing me,” he gasped. Her kisses had stolen all but the obvious.
“What harm can it do?” She touched her lips, which were ripe from his kisses. “I’ll never see you again. Goodbye, Lucas.” She turned and fled up the portable staircase that had been parked alongside the plane.
“You’re wrong about that, love,” he whispered as she vanished inside the plane.
Chapter 5
Miranda stared at her sister from across the table. Calista Penney lived up to the meaning of her name, “most beautiful.” Like their mother, she was negro branca , and her long, thick hair was more curly than wavy. Her black eyes, another gift from their mother, crackled with vitality. Calista had a lush bosom, full, rounded hips and a small waist; basically the body of
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