His Emergency Fiancée (10 page)

‘It’s just—just delayed shock. About Marty, I mean,’ she said, trying her best to sound sensible.

‘I know. I’m sorry. I should—’

The words were out before she could stop them. And they most definitely weren’t sensible. ‘Celebrate life.’

There was a long pause. A very, very long pause.

‘What?’ he croaked.

‘Celebrate life. We should, I mean.’ Her voice wobbled slightly.

He moved closer. ‘Kirst, are you telling me…?’

‘That we’ve had a hell of an evening, we both need comfort, and…who else do you turn to but your best friend?’

* * *

But I don’t have sex with my best friend, he thought savagely. I don’t go up in flames when she kisses me. I don’t…Hell. He didn’t want to lose Kirsty. She’d been part of his life for so long—he’d be lost without her. As lost as Ellen McAllister without Marty, her best friend. And her husband.

Husband.

Ben didn’t do commitment. They both knew that. The ring on Kirsty’s finger was purely to keep his grandmother happy—his gran, who could even now be in the same situation as Marty McAllister. This wasn’t fair to either of them. He had to stop now, before he hurt her.

‘Kirsty, it’s kind of you,’ he managed to say finally, backing off again, ‘but I’m not going to use you like that. I’ll sleep on the floor.’

* * *

In other words, I’d rather wake up with a dodgy back and a crick in my neck than make love with you, Kirsty thought. Well, she had her pride. She wasn’t going to beg him. ‘Don’t be silly. We shared a bed last night, didn’t we? There’s no difference tonight.’ Except I tried to seduce you in a moment’s madness, and you turned me down. And as for you calling me your love—I probably just heard what I wanted you to say. ‘Stay where you are.’

‘You’re right. Sensible Kirst. You’re always right,’ he said.

Though she noticed that he didn’t make a move to put the tartan pyjamas back on. And she didn’t dare put the light on to try to find her teddy-covered nightshirt. They lay there, side by side, not touching, both pretending to breathe regularly and deeply. Sleep was a long time coming, but at last it arrived for both of them.

* * *

Kirsty woke in the middle of the night. She was warm and comfortable and…Ben was wrapped round her again. Except this time neither of them was wearing a stitch of clothing. She could feel every hair on his chest against her back. And on the hard thigh nudged firmly between her own.

She swallowed hard. His thumb was circling her nipple. He was touching her in his sleep. Stroking the dusky pink tip of her breast until it hardened. And his mouth was definitely against her shoulder. She could feel his lips against the sensitive spot at the curve of her neck, kissing her. Very lightly, very softly, but definitely kissing her.

Unable to help herself, she wriggled her bottom against him.

The hand playing with her breast stilled instantly.

If he moved away now…

But he didn’t. Unbelievably, he didn’t. His hand was stroking across her abdomen. Sliding lower. And then he was touching her intimately. She could hardly breathe as his fingers skated against her skin and he explored her until she was quivering with anticipation and need.

Without a word, she turned to face him. He rubbed his nose against hers, then kissed her. Gently at first, then more deeply, until she felt as if a fire was raging through her. She wanted him. Wanted him so badly. Wanted him to touch her and taste her and
take
her.

He moved them both so she was lying on her back again and he was on top of her, and slowly he moved down her body, touching and tasting and arousing her until she was almost howling with need.

A need that Ben shared. When he spoke, his voice was ragged. ‘Kirsty. I need you.’

‘Now,’ she said, her voice as husky as his.

There was a moment’s pause and some rustling as he moved to protect her, and then finally he entered her. Kirsty moaned softly against his shoulder and he waited, letting her body adjust to his before he thrust deeper. She wrapped her legs round his waist, and he lost it completely. Kirsty was everywhere. Touch, scent, taste, sound…all Kirsty. The only sense missing was sight, and he knew if he put the light on, as he craved, to watch the expression in her eyes as he drew them both on to climax, they’d both realise what they were doing and pull apart again.

Right now, it didn’t matter that it was crazy. It didn’t matter that they were risking everything. It didn’t matter that he didn’t do commitment and she didn’t do relationships and this whole engagement thing was to take the pressure off both of them in different ways—all that mattered was the way she felt beneath him, soft and warm and giving and incredibly passionate. All that mattered was the way she murmured his name, the way her body slowly began to ripple round him, the way his body surged in response…

So this, Kirsty thought, was what all the fuss was about.

She’d had no idea.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A
CCORDING
to the clock on the bedside table, it was nearly ten o’clock. She ought to get up. But Kirsty felt lazy and drowsy and, with Ben’s arms wrapped firmly round her, warm and comfortable.

Ben.

Her cheeks heated. Facing him was going to be…difficult. After the way she’d thrown herself at him last night, she wasn’t sure if she could ever face him again!

And, besides, now she knew. Now she knew why women swooned over Ben and why women made such a fuss about sex. What had happened with Luke all those years ago was so far removed from what she’d experienced last night…She could only describe it as lust.
Uncontrollable
lust. Because she and Ben hadn’t stopped at making love just once. They’d reached for each other again and again, gorging on each other’s bodies. Exploring each other—touching, tasting, doing all sorts of things she’d never done before which had left her faintly stunned at the idea until Ben had introduced her to the sheer pleasure of the reality.

It was all down to experience. She knew that. Ben had had—well, she’d lost count of how many girlfriends he’d had. And most of them had been his lover as well as his girlfriend. They must have been. Whereas she…There had only been Luke.

What a lot she’d missed. A whole world.

And Ben had been the one to complete her education.

She screwed her eyes tightly shut. She didn’t want to lose Ben’s friendship. Yet his girlfriends only ever lasted a matter of weeks—he wasn’t into commitment and he made it clear right from the start so no one got hurt.

This time, it was different. Neither of them had intended this to happen—but it had. And she had no idea how they were going to work it out.

* * *

What the
hell
had he done?

He’d just managed to wreck the best friendship he’d ever had. How could he have been so stupid? Yes, he’d been upset about Marty’s death, and he was worried about Morag, and Kirsty had been there—but he really, really shouldn’t have done it. Sex plus best friend equalled very, very bad idea. How was he ever going to salvage this mess?

He couldn’t blame Kirsty. It hadn’t been her fault. She’d just responded to him. He shouldn’t have been touching her in the first place. She was completely off limits. What he’d done had just changed everything. And now, on top of everything else, he’d probably have to find somewhere else to live. How could they possibly share a house as friends after this?

Stupid, stupid,
stupid
, he raged silently.

Worst of all, he knew he would hurt her. It was the only possible outcome. He’d always been so careful to make sure his partner knew the score, that it would be fun, pleasure for them both, but definitely not a ticket to happy-ever-after land. He didn’t want commitment. He really, really didn’t want marriage and two point four kids and a dog and a cottage with roses round the door and hollyhocks in the front garden. And Kirsty…He’d asked her once why she never dated. She’d said she wanted to concentrate on her career. But she was heading for thirty—the time when many women’s biological clocks started to tick. Had
he
started her clock ticking by giving her a proper engagement ring and making love with her? If he had, after what they’d shared last night, would he be the one she wanted to settle down with?

He couldn’t be so selfish as to expect her just to have sex with him and still be his best friend when it fizzled out. Because it
would
fizzle out—it always did. Yet now he’d made love with her…he didn’t think he could live with her platonically either. Last night had been incredible. He hadn’t been able to get enough of her. Even now, he wanted her. He wanted to touch her, taste her; he wanted her to touch him, too, stroke his skin and kiss him and—

He didn’t do relationships.

But it didn’t stop him wanting to kiss the nape of her neck, nuzzle her shoulder, turn her round in his arms and lose himself in her.

What a mess. What a complete and utter mess.

He knew Kirsty was awake. Although she hadn’t said a word and her breathing was still deep and regular, she was unnaturally still. Which meant she was trying to make him think she was asleep until…What?

Face it, he thought. They both had to face it. The sooner, the better. He stroked her hair. ‘Kirst? You awake?’

She shifted so that she was facing him. ‘Ben.’

There was a very, very long pause.

‘About last night…’ they both began.

They both stopped and smiled.

‘Great minds think alike,’ he quipped.

‘Last night. We know what it was. Just comfort—celebrating life,’ said Kirsty.

It happened with most medics at some point, Ben thought. It was their way of coping with losing a patient—their way of facing the future and reminding themselves that life had to go on. They’d lost Marty, and then they’d…acted out of character.

‘It doesn’t change anything between us,’ Ben said.

‘Of course not. We feel the same way,’ Kirsty echoed.

‘Yes.’

‘We’re still friends.’

‘Still friends,’ he confirmed, relieved. And yet part of him was…what? Disappointed? Crazy. He didn’t want commitment. Why should he be disappointed that she didn’t either?

‘That’s good.’ She dropped a kiss on the end of his nose. ‘I need a shower.’

‘Go ahead.’

She coughed. ‘Um, do you mind closing your eyes?’

Closing his eyes? After what they’d done together last night, she was
shy
? He smiled indulgently. ‘Of course.’

‘Thanks.’ She retrieved her nightshirt and pulled it on. ‘See you in a bit,’ she said, giving him his cue to open his eyes again.

She was covered to well below the knee, those beautiful curves hidden behind the baggy cotton. Probably just as well, he thought wryly. If he had a visual reminder of what she’d felt like in his arms, he’d probably pull her back into his bed and to hell with the consequences. Consequences that would catch up with them in the end. No, this way was better. The sensible way.

‘See you in a bit,’ he echoed.

He stayed in bed, thinking, after she closed the door. Kirsty had made it very clear that last night had been a one-off. ‘Comfort—celebrating life,’ she’d said. Meaning that it had been just sex for her.

Sex. Not the best thing to think about, he acknowledged wryly as his body informed him that sex with Kirsty was just fine and dandy, as far as it was concerned. You just didn’t have sex with your best friend—particularly when she was heading for the top in her chosen career and wouldn’t allow anything else in her life to get in the way.

And he ignored the very soft voice in his head that asked if it had really been just sex for him, too. No way was he going to start considering that.

* * *

Kirsty turned the shower onto its coldest setting. Even the jolt of the icy water didn’t seem to work. Instead of feeling relieved that she wasn’t losing him, she felt…bereft.

But what else could she have done? Clung to Ben and told him she loved him? She knew he wouldn’t have pushed her away—he had too much innate kindness to reject her like that. He’d have been gentle with her, then gradually distanced himself again. Because he didn’t do commitment, all the women in his life were temporary. She was only a permanent fixture in his life because she was his best mate—he didn’t even think of her as female.

Except he had last night.

And he’d shown her just how very female she was.

She turned the shower back to warm and scrubbed her skin harder. No. She wasn’t—absolutely wasn’t—going to think about sex and Ben at the same time.

Or love.

She stopped scrubbing. Love? She’d thought herself in love with Luke. Now she knew it hadn’t even been infatuation—it had been very pathetic gratitude at an attractive male actually asking her dumpy eighteen-year-old self out. The kick in the teeth had come later, when she’d found out why Luke had really asked her out, and that it had had nothing to do with her attractiveness—more like her lack of it.

But this…How did she feel about Ben? Half the time, they didn’t have to say anything because they knew exactly how each other thought. But that was from years and years of knowing each other, talking and sharing their lives. Friendship, that was all. Except now she had to add lust. And friendship plus lust was a completely different equation.

Love.

She loved Ben?

But he didn’t love her. At least, not in that way. Because she knew her algebra: if friendship plus lust equalled love, love minus lust equalled friendship. And Ben didn’t lust after her. Last night had just been comfort, that was all.

Could he ever grow to love her? Right now, she couldn’t answer that. She knew how she felt about him—but how could it ever work out? Ben didn’t trust anyone enough for commitment. Someone had hurt him very badly in the past—it was something they’d never discussed but she instinctively knew that. It had to be why he was too scared to trust. But would he let her teach him how to trust?

No. Of course not. He saw her as a friend, and after what she’d told him this morning he thought she felt the same way. So best friends it’d have to be. Until he was ready for something more—if ever.