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Magenta woke to find herself alone in bed and her clothing gone. She was dressed only in her underwear and had no recollection of taking her clothes off. Harry. She’d been so worn out after their chat that she’d slept like the dead. She groaned at the ceiling, wondering where he was now and feeling grateful that he’d left her with underwear.
The room tilted as she turned towards the clock by her bed. She had a hangover. An emotion hangover, which was the worst kind, because you still remembered every traumatic thing you did or said to get it. She glanced at the time, relieved to find that she had an hour before she was due at work.
The door was kicked open and a grinning Harry entered carrying a tray loaded with food. “I made breakfast.”
His smile had a daze-inducing effect on her sanity. He was dressed in yesterday’s jeans, but his feet and chest were bare. Magenta snatched the sheet and pulled it up to under her chin, making Harry laugh.
At the sight of him, memories of his whispered words from the night before flooded her mind. He’d said he loved her. It didn’t feel real. She wasn’t convinced she hadn’t dreamed the whole thing.
“What’s with all the vegan stuff in the fridge?” He placed the tray on the bed beside her.
His words brought her back to the present.
“Megan’s latest health kick.” Magenta eyed the food. There was toast, a variety of spreads, eggs, bacon, sausages, mushrooms and potatoes. “How many people are you feeding?”
“Just us.” He winked at her before handing her a plate loaded with food.
Magenta reached for the coffee and was grateful to find that it was mud thick. Exactly the way she liked it. She eyed Harry thoughtfully, feeling slightly nervous that they were hanging out half naked in her bedroom. Not that her body had a problem with this. No, her body wanted to rub against Harry’s chest, to feel the muscles and sprinkling of hair against her skin. Her body wanted Harry’s huge, skilled hands dancing over her. Her body wanted to be licked, and kissed, and touched. It took a great deal of effort to get her body to shut up.
She opened her mouth to thank Harry for the food and tell him to clear out. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what came out. “How often do you work out?” she said instead.
She felt the blush heat her cheeks. He had way more than the two-pack he’d claimed in the mine. There were at least six well-defined muscles decorating his stomach. His biceps were firm enough to bite, but it was his wide shoulders that made her shudder. She was a sucker for a broad-shouldered man.
“Every day,” he said through a mouthful of food. “Otherwise I’d spend 24/7 sitting at my computer and have a backside like Jabba the Hutt. Plus you don’t want to be unfit and fight. MMA is gruelling. You need to be on top of your game physically as well as mentally—even when you’re an amateur.”
She thought about that as she nibbled on some toast. “Let me get this right. You compete at mixed martial arts, you run a company, you are the UK expert in security-based programming and you go rock climbing when you have free time.” For some reason, all of that irritated her. “I hate to tell you, Harry, but your life screams overachiever. Are you good at everything you do?”
His eyes grew dark. “How about you find out the answer to that for yourself?”
Magenta swallowed hard as her body started screaming at her again. Her body had needs, it told her. Harry could satisfy those needs. Harry was good at everything. Her body was convinced he’d be very good at satisfying her. Magenta frowned at herself. She didn’t have time to lust after Harry. There were things to be said.
“Harry, about what you said last night?” She couldn’t seem to make any more words come out of her mouth.
His eyes twinkled. “I wondered how long it would take you to freak out about that.”
She scowled at him. “I wanted you to know that I know you didn’t mean it. That you were just comforting me after...after everything I told you. I wanted you to know that I’m okay with you not meaning it. People say things in the heat of the moment. I understand that.”
His eyes went wide. “You think I told you I love you to make you feel better?”
She nodded. She couldn’t think of another reason he might say it. He wiped a hand over his face.
“Those freaks from your past really did a number on you, didn’t they?”
She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say to that, so she didn’t say anything. Instead she bit her bottom lip and waited. Part of her wanted him to deny that he’d told her he loved her in the heat of the moment. Another part of her wanted him to agree. Her head was a mess.
“Baby.” He reached for her hand and wound his fingers with hers. “I meant what I said. I came back for you. Not for the business. Rachel is right about that—it would probably be better if we kept our base in London. I don’t care about that. I care about you. I love you. I wasn’t lying. It’s always been you for me.”
Well, hell. She knew she was gaping at him, but words weren’t forming in her head or her mouth. He loved her? He meant it? Was this real? Had she somehow fallen into one of the dreams she’d had as a kid?
Harry chuckled as he shook his head.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.” His grin made her lick her lips. “Especially seeing as you’re in love with me too.”
Her back snapped straight. “I am not.” Was she? Maybe. Probably. Who knows? Shouldn’t she be the one figuring it out? Instead she had him telling her what she felt. She glared at him.
He flashed that sexy grin of his that needed to be outlawed. “You might as well admit it, baby. You love me.”
Magenta narrowed her eyes at him. Irritating, frustrating, annoying man. “Don’t tell me what I feel. And don’t call me baby. Scottish men don’t call their women baby. They use darling or pet, or who knows what the hell else. But baby is an American thing.”
He grinned. “So you admit you’re my woman?”
“No, I don’t admit that. Listen to yourself. What century are you living in?” She lowered her voice to mimic his. “Me man. You woman. Me own you. You mine.”
He laughed, which made her frown. Bloody caveman.
“I’m just saying,” Magenta said, “that in general, Scottish men don’t use baby as a term of endearment.” And yes, she was more than aware that she was using this discussion to ignore the whole “I love you” thing. Her brain was not ready to deal with that yet. It might never be.
“Baby, I’m a child of a global culture. I watch more American TV than any other type. I was brainwashed into the American way before I could walk properly. I’m not ashamed to admit that I thought Captain Picard was my real father and the only reason he let my parents raise me was that he didn’t want me on the Enterprise.” He grinned. “Space can be dangerous for a kid. Look at all the stuff that happened to Wesley Crusher.”
Magenta leaned forward and smacked him on the back of the head. Not hard. Just enough to snap him out of the weird little detour his brain was taking.
“As I was saying.” He made a production of rubbing his head. “Welcome to the new world, where we all use American slang. You need to trust me on this—no matter where the term comes from, you are definitely my baby.”
Magenta stared at him for a minute before blinking. She didn’t know what to do with him. He wasn’t fighting by any rules she knew. There was only one option. When in doubt—run.
“I’ve had enough of this. Time to get ready for work.” She moved to throw back the covers but remembered she was only wearing her underwear. “Throw me a T-shirt, will you?”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Why? I’ve seen it all before.” His grin was lascivious. “I like the pink lingerie. It was a nice surprise to find a Disney princess under Xena the Warrior Princess.”
“You are such a geek.”
“And proud of it.” He waggled his eyebrows while he reached for his T-shirt. Of course he was going to be all macho and dress her in his clothes, even though she was in a room full of her own.
Magenta shrugged into it. Some arguments weren’t worth the effort. She threw back the covers and strode past Harry. His arm shot out to stop her. She glared at him.
“You’re forgetting something.”
“What?” She let out a long-suffering sigh.
“Our morning kiss.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.
“Harry, we’re not in a relationship.”
“Whatever you want to believe. Kiss me good morning anyway.” He pulled her close until she was standing between his knees. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist. “I’m not letting go until I get my morning kiss.”
“Fine, you stubborn pervert.” Magenta put a hand on each of his shoulders, leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek. “Good morning, Harry,” she said with fake cheer.
His eyes narrowed and she almost laughed. She’d forgotten about this. Forgotten how much fun it was to play with him.
“I want a real kiss,” he growled.
“That’s as good as it’s getting. Take it or leave it.”
“Coward.”
“Bully.”
“Scaredy-cat.”
“Man-whore.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Man-whore?”
She shrugged. “I heard all about your many relationships over the years.” Each one had chipped away at her soul. “It kind of makes a mockery of your claim that I’ve always been the one for you. Your string of girlfriends says otherwise. Who knows where those lips of yours have been.”
“I thought you didn’t want me, then someone told me otherwise. Those women were nothing but placeholders.” He gave her a slow grin. “You’re jealous.”
“Am not.”
“Oh, you are so.”
“I’m going to thump you in a minute.”
“Now, now, Magenta, you need to work at controlling that temper of yours. What would happen to your reputation if it got out that Invertary’s badass was too scared to kiss her man because she was in a snit about the other women he’d dated? That doesn’t sound like a badass to me. That sounds like a big old cowardly chicken.” He started making chicken noises.
Magenta dug her nails into his bare shoulders. It didn’t stop the clucking. Or the grinning.
“You’re not my man. Stop making a fool of yourself,” she ordered. He didn’t.
His tight hold meant she couldn’t get away from him. His mocking was driving her nuts. “I swear, Harry, stop that stupid noise or I’ll stop it for you.”
He actually chuckled while he clucked like a chicken. So Magenta shut him up the only way she could think of—she slammed her mouth down on his.
Harry hummed with delight, and then, being the great big control freak that he was, he took over the kiss. Magenta was past caring. As soon as her lips touched Harry’s, her annoyance evaporated. She didn’t even care enough to be irritated that she was hopelessly easy when it came to the man. Nope, all she cared about was getting closer to him.
She felt like she was falling down a vertical shaft, into the darkness and the unknown—without a lifeline.
And the feeling was addictive.
In that moment, with the taste of Harry on her tongue and his warm, solid muscle under her fingertips, she wasn’t sure if she would ever let him go. Common sense told her that her sanity would return when his lips left hers. But while they were touching, while he was kissing her, she chose to believe that he was right. That they were soul mates. That Harry could get past the fact he was so much more intelligent than she was. That they could have a future together. Not just any future, but the one she’d dreamed of as a kid.
The one where she got to keep Harry. Forever.