What If I'm Pregnant...? by Carla Cassidy Page A

relief when they reached her door and he dropped his hand from her back. She pulled out her keys and started to unlock the door.
    â€œAllow me,” he said, and smoothly took the keys from her grasp.
    â€œWhat a gentleman,” she said, trying to tease him to defuse the tension that bubbled inside of her.
    â€œThere are times it pays to be a gentleman, and times it pays to be a rascal.” His eyes sparked with a wicked glint that heightened the tension inside her.
    A quick cup of coffee, she reminded herself. Just because she and Tanner would be alone in the apartment didn’t mean they were going to do anything other than chat a bit and drink coffee.
    But there was that look in his eyes that made a shiver race up her spine. There was a hunger there that called on a hunger inside her.
    He opened the door, then handed her back her keys. “After you,” he said.
    She stepped inside, dropped her purse on one of the chairs, then motioned him toward the sofa. “Why don’t you just have a seat, and I’ll go make the coffee.”
    She started to walk toward the kitchen but gasped in surprise as he grabbed her wrist and halted her forward motion.
    â€œI’ve changed my mind about the coffee,” he said, not releasing his hold on her. With his fingers still encircling her wrist, he stepped closer to her.
    Her mouth grew dry and her heart pounded so loudly she vaguely wondered if he could hear it. “Would you rather have iced tea?” she asked. “Orlemonade. I could make a pitcher of lemonade.” She was rambling but couldn’t seem to stop herself. “Of course, not everyone likes lemonade, but it’s nice and refreshing on a hot summer day.”
    He smiled, that bold, sexy grin that made her knees grow weak and created a flutter in the pit of her stomach. “I don’t want coffee.” He dropped her hand and instead wrapped his arms around her waist. “I don’t want iced tea.” His voice was deep, his breath warm on her face, hinting of the Scotch he’d drunk earlier in the evening.
    He stroked his hands up and down her back. “I don’t want lemonade,” he continued. His eyes were like the blue flames of a gas stove—hot and intense. “I just want you.”
    â€œBut you said you’d come in for coffee.” Her voice trembled. “A gentleman doesn’t enter a woman’s apartment under false pretenses.”
    â€œI’m feeling more like a rascal than a gentleman.”
    He gave her no time to protest or deny, but claimed her lips with his.
    This was exactly what Colette had been afraid of. She had been unable to get the first kiss they had shared out of her head, and as he pulled her more tightly against him, she recognized she didn’t have the strength to deny him, or herself, the pleasure of this second kiss.
    His mouth didn’t just kiss hers but rather took full possession. At first it was just a meeting of mouths,then his tongue swirled against hers, evoking in her a warmth that was delicious.
    It wasn’t just the kiss that made her feel as if she’d swallowed a glowing sun. It was the pleasure of the evening they’d just shared.
    She hadn’t wanted to like Tanner, she’d wanted to believe he was arrogant and dictatorial and had no redeeming qualities whatsoever. But he had just enough arrogance to be attractive, and she suspected he truly was a bit dictatorial but was driven by love and caring.
    As his hands once again swept up and down her back, any thoughts of Tanner’s good qualities or bad qualities were lost beneath his sensual onslaught.
    She felt as if she were drowning in his kiss, melting in his arms. She knew somewhere in the back of her mind that she should stop this madness. There was no future here.
    But it was this thought that kept her in his arms. She knew there was no future with Tanner, that this could only be a momentary pleasure at best. So why not