Roomful of Roses

Andy had turned green and was putting down his spoon. He grabbed his ice water and drank and drank.

“Stop that, you animal,” Wynn growled at McCabe. “How could you?”

“I like science,” he replied imperturbably, watching Andy. “Did I ever tell you about the food I had in South America when I was covering the conflict down there a few years back? I went deep into the Amazon with some soldiers and we camped with a primitive tribe in the jungle. We had snake and lizard and some kind of toasted bugs—’

“Excuse me,” Andy gasped, leaping to his feet with a napkin held tightly over his mouth. He ran toward the bathroom and slammed the door.

“McCabe!” Wynn burst out, banging the table with her hand.

He sipped his coffee. “If he can’t stand to hear about your work, what will you talk about when you’re married?” he asked politely. “Or do you plan to stick to conversation about textiles from now on?”

“You don’t understand—”

“I understand very well.” He held her eyes and frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

He leaned forward and turned her face toward his. “You’ve got a smudge, just here.” His big warm hand pressed against her cheek while his thumb ran roughly back and forth across her lips.

It was the most sensuous thing she’d ever experienced in her life, more sensuous than Andy’s most ardent kiss. Her lips parted helplessly as she looked into his darkening eyes, and his thumb crushed her upper lip and then her lower one. She felt her eyes narrowing helplessly, her breath coming wild and fast, her mouth parting, trembling, at the blatant seduction of his touch.

“Like it?” he breathed huskily, watching her mouth.

She caught his hand and started to pull it away, but he brought her palm up to his mouth and caressed it softly, tenderly, while his eyes held hers.

Oh, don’t, she pleaded silently. But she was going under, and her eyes went helplessly to his mouth and she wanted it with a shocking hunger.

“Come on,” he whispered, tantalizing her. “Come on, Wynn.”

She was actually leaning toward him across the scant inches that separated them when the sudden sharp click of the bathroom door opening sent her jerking back into her own chair.

Andy came back into the room looking pale and furious. He sat back down in his chair and took a long sip of his ice water.

“Feeling better?” McCabe asked pleasantly.

Andy glowered at him. “No thanks to you.”

“Reporters do bring the job home, Andy,” the taller man commented. “It’s pretty hard not to, in this business. You’ll find that there are going to be times when Wynn will need to tell you about things she’s seen, to save her sanity.”

Andy looked at him uncomprehendingly. “Wynn and I understand each other very well, thanks,” he said curtly. “She knows I’ll listen if she needs to talk.”

“Of course I do,” Wynn began placatingly, stilling her trembling hands in her lap.

Andy turned to speak to her and his eyes went homing to her swollen mouth, devoid of lipstick and looking as if it had been hotly and thoroughly kissed. His face flamed and he drew in a harsh breath.

Wynn put a hand to her mouth, as if she could cover up what McCabe’s thumb had done to it. “Andy, it wasn’t what you’re thinking,” she said shortly.

“Sure it wasn’t.” Andy stood up, almost knocking over his chair. “He’s only been here a day, for heaven’s sake!”

“I’m a fast worker,” McCabe said with a wicked smile. “And Wynn is a dish. Can you blame me? Especially when she’s so...responsive.”

Andy seemed to puff up. His face reddened and he gave Wynn a killing glance. He whirled and slammed out of the house. A minute later, the roar of his car filled the silence.

“You troublemaker,” Wynn accused hotly. “What was the point of that lie?”

“It wasn’t a lie,” he said calmly, lighting a cigarette. His eyes shot up and held hers. “You’d have let me kiss you.”

She shifted restlessly. “All right,” she admitted, “I probably would have. We go back a long way and I’m as curious about you as you seem to be about me. But I’m engaged to Andy, I’m wearing his ring. And what’s a kiss, these days, McCabe?”

“It depends on the people involved,” he said quietly. His eyes scanned her hot face. “You and I would make more of it than a meeting of mouths.”

She flushed and dropped her eyes to her empty coffee cup. “He’ll pout for three days before he even speaks to me again. That is, if he doesn’t break the engagement.”

“You’d be better off.”

“I don’t want to be an old maid,” she burst out, glaring at him. “It may suit Katy Maude, but it wouldn’t suit me. I don’t like being alone, living alone!”

“You aren’t,” he reminded her. “You’re living with me right now.”

“Not in the sense I mean.”

“Not yet,” he agreed, and it was a threat.

She stood up. “I’ll do the dishes.”

“Running?” he asked, studying her. “I won’t go away. And neither will the problem.”

“I’ll ignore you both,” she promised him. She gathered the dirty dishes, but as she started by him, to add his plate to the pile at the end of the table, he caught her around the waist and turned her, pressing his open mouth to her backbone.

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