“I’m going to kiss you now, Haylie Smith,” he murmured in a low, mesmerizing voice. “Why?”
He grinned. “Because I’ve been thinking about it all night. I want to feel your lips, know what you taste like.”
Oh, he should write greeting cards. His assertion melted her insides until she could barely hold herself upright.
She knew she should say no, push him away, but darned if her body would listen to reason. Instead, her lips parted and she whispered the only two words she could manage.
“All right.”
Haylie’s acquiescence was nice, but he didn’t need it. At that moment, a herd of wild horses couldn’t have stopped him from kissing her.
But even as Trevor covered Haylie’s mouth with his own, he knew he shouldn’t be doing this. The obstacles between them were enough to add an extra mile or two to the Great Wall of China. He couldn’t have picked a more complicated woman to be attracted to if he’d walked into a psychiatric ward and announced he would pay a million dollars for a willing bride.
She was practically a stranger. She’d shown up in his office with a baby she claimed was his—and her dead sister’s, no less.
And that was just the tip of the iceberg. If Bradley really did turn out to be his, then there was the whole custody issue to deal with. Custody, and the fact that he didn’t know the first thing about being a father.
Trevor would never be able to turn his back on his own child. Say thanks for letting me know about my kid, but I’m not interested in being a dad and be content with sending a support check every month to assuage his guilt.
But he knew, with every fiber of his being, that if he voiced his desire to keep Bradley and be a true father to the little boy, Haylie would fight him every step of the way. She was bonded to the baby like nothing he’d ever seen before. Of course, given what he knew about her sister, he had no doubt that Haylie had stepped in to mother Bradley from the moment he was born.
He admired the hell out of her for that. But it was definitely going to complicate matters if the tests came back positive and he asserted his parental rights.
And still he kissed her. A soft brushing of lips at first, followed by a firmer pressing.
She felt exactly as he’d imagined she would—like rose petals or plush velvet. And she tasted even better. Like the Barbaresco they’d had with dinner—spicy and tart, but with an extra-sweet tang that was uniquely her own.
Leaning in a few brief inches, he let his body rest against hers. From chest to thigh, they touched, heat swirling between them and sending their temperatures—or his, at any rate—skyrocketing.
He brought his hands up, cupping her face and deepening the kiss. Running his tongue along the seam of her mouth, he urged her to open for him. When she did, he delved in, groaning at the explosion of sensation that rocked him.
Why did this feel so good? So right?
Haylie was not the first pretty girl he’d ever kissed. Far from it; he’d been with dozens—dare he say hundreds?—of women.
She wasn’t even his type. Oh, he liked blondes well enough—as well as brunettes, redheads and everything in between. But where he normally didn’t give much thought to a woman’s hair one way or another, he had to admit that hers was spectacular, all honey highlights, like a ray of sunshine trapped inside a glass jar.
She was tall enough, about five-five to his six foot two. Slightly shorter than his usual arm candy preferences, but the top of her head came to his chin, which he thought was pretty much perfect. He liked looking down at her, and the idea of having her fit against him just right when he tucked her close.
Her fuller, more rounded figure was also an unexpected turn-on. He was used to the stick-thin model sort…high heels, high hair and size-zero bodies squeezed into belts that doubled as dresses that barely covered their rear ends.
And always before, that had gotten his motor running. Or maybe he’d simply had it in his head that those were the type of women he was supposed to be with—super-photogenic party girls who enjoyed being seen with a Jarrod heir almost as much as they enjoyed actually being with him as a man.
But therein lay the difference: They were girls and Haylie was a woman.
Haylie possessed none of the qualities he normally looked for in the opposite sex, yet he loved the feel of her soft curves pressed against his harder frame. Loved the way she looked and smelled and let him ravish her mouth without pulling away.
Threading his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, he let his other hand stroke down the side of her throat, the curve of her breast, her waist. Then he reached the hem of her shirt, tunneling beneath to touch warm, smooth skin. A low, primal groan rolled up from his diaphragm, and he leaned closer, deepening the kiss.
This wasn’t what he’d intended when he’d first decided to taste her. He’d only wanted a tiny nibble, something to satisfy his curiosity and maybe put her a little off guard.
Instead, it felt as though a brushfire had broken out just under his skin. Pinpricks of heat and sensation that urged him to keep going.
Forget about the just a taste thing. Forget about a quick kiss to assuage his interest. He wanted to lift her onto the counter right then and there and have his way with her. Wanted to pick her up and carry her upstairs to his bedroom where he could undress her slowly, lay her out on the satin sheets covering his king-size mattress and explore every inch of her luscious body. Slowly.
He wondered what Haylie would think of the erotic images suddenly flitting through his mind. She certainly hadn’t pulled away when he’d told her he was going to kiss her. And since she still wasn’t resisting—was in fact kissing him back with a passion and fervor that had his blood heading due south at a rapid pace—he thought there was a chance she might be willing to act out a few of them.
A scratchy, whimpering sound reached his ears, and he wondered if it originated from his own throat or from hers. But when it came again, even more persistently and from across the room, he knew neither of them was the source of the strange noise. Something else was.
When Haylie cocked her head and pulled away, he knew he was right. He also had the satisfaction of seeing that her eyes were glazed and she was breathing hard.
A second later, before he had time to really enjoy it, she whispered “Bradley,” and slipped past him before he had a chance to react. He watched in confused silence as she darted out of the kitchen and up the stairs, belatedly realizing that the scratchy whimper that had interrupted one of the best kisses of his life had come from the baby monitor in the living room.
Trevor couldn’t say he was thrilled with this turn of events, but in an odd way, he was amused. Having the four-month-old ruin a perfectly good kiss that may very well have led to even more intimacies was his very first experience with fatherhood. And if Bradley turned out to be his son, it was something he should probably get used to.
Nine
The week and a half following “The Kiss,” as Haylie had come to think of it, was a busy one. Partly because she really did have a million and one things to do to keep up with Erica’s wedding plans, and partly because she was actively avoiding Trevor.
Unfortunately, making a point to avoid him physically didn’t mean she could do the same mentally.
For some strange reason, he seemed to be deeply embedded in her brain. Whether she was on the phone ordering flowers and linens, or running around the Ridge trying to organize people and plans and locations, there was always a moment when his face or voice or the memory of his seductive cologne would pop into her head.
She blamed it on “The Kiss.” Before that, she might have found him attractive, but not distracting.
The Kiss… Boy, howdy, had anything ever curled her toes like that before?
Sure, she’d been feeling mellow from the delicious meal he’d prepared for her and the exceptional bottle of wine they’d shared. And she could admit to more than a bit of curiosity, too. He’d told her in that low, mesmerizing voice of his that he was going to kiss her, and her inner fairy-tale princess had gone aflutter, thinking, “Yes, please.” After all, one little kiss had never hurt anybody.
But that kiss had been about as far from a fairy tale as one could get. Oh, no. Fairy tales were sweet and soft and romantic, while what she’d experienced at Trevor’s hands had been closer to a scene from a disaster movie. Oceans churning, volcanoes erupting, palm trees being whipped to and fro under gale-force winds.
The minute his lips had touched hers, the world as she knew it had ceased to exist. If it hadn’t been for Bradley’s sleepy whimpers echoing from the baby monitor, and the well-honed maternal instincts she’d developed over the past months that wouldn’t allow her to ignore his needs, she would probably still be propped up against the kitchen counter, wearing Trevor like a warm fleece blanket. Letting him kiss her stupid…and oh, so much more.
She was very much afraid that if the opportunity presented itself again, they wouldn’t stop at just a kiss, which was why she was determined to keep her distance.
In the mornings, she made sure to be dressed and ready and to have Bradley with her from the time she left the guest room, because she knew Trevor wouldn’t make a move while she had the baby in her arms.
During the day, she stayed busy, busy, busy, whether she was working from Trevor’s home office—which he’d generously let her take over—or running errands both around the resort and in downtown Aspen.
Evenings, though…those were tough. Even if all she wanted to do was put Bradley down for the night, then soak for a couple hours in a hot bubble bath, or fix a nice dinner for one and put her feet up while she watched a bit of TV, more often than not she found herself taking food to her room and hiding out there until she was sure Trevor had gone to bed.
Though the house was large and spacious, there was too much danger of running into him, too much chance of dim lighting and sleepy brain cells telling her it wasn’t a bad idea to kiss him again, after all. Kiss him and touch him and let him take her to his bed.
Oh, no. She most definitely had to stay away from Trevor Jarrod. Although she was starting to understand how her sister had fallen for him so quickly. They might have shared only a less-than-memorable—at least on his part—one-night stand, but Haylie could see how his handsome features and charming personality would sweep any woman off her feet.
Pushing through the front door, she kicked it closed behind her, juggling the baby and her bags until she could unload some of them. It had been another busy day, but thanks to the Ridge’s day-care center and the completely over-the-top, champagne-colored four-wheel-drive Cadillac Escalade Trevor had gotten for her to tool around in, things were going very smoothly indeed.
The first time she’d been behind the wheel, she’d felt completely ridiculous. It was like driving a tractor trailer. And she knew how much something like that cost—more than she could afford, and more than someone like Trevor should be spending on someone like her.
But as usual, he’d been resolute. Hidden the keys to her car, she suspected, since she hadn’t been able to find them since the Escalade had been delivered. And she had to admit, it was a nice ride. Comfortable and much safer than her little sedan, she supposed, for both Bradley and herself.