His Emergency Fiancée by Kate Hardy Page A

thing, as if he might be making a monumental mistake—until his lips touched hers. Gently. Softly. Even shyly, she thought with shock, as if he wasn’t sure whether she’d push him away.
    Which, of course, she ought to be doing. They were friends, not lovers.
    But that didn’t stop her hands coming up to tangle in his hair. Glorious, soft and thick hair. And once she’d done that it was as if she’d unleashed a dam—and she discovered why every other woman at Jimmy’s dreamed of being kissed by Ben Robertson.
    Because his kisses were incredible.
    His mouth teased hers, nipping and caressing and cajoling until she opened her mouth, letting his tongue duel with hers. And his arms were round her now, pulling her hard against his body so she was left in no doubt about what the kiss was doing to him. His hand was stroking her bottom, kneading it gently, and the kiss went on and on and on, until the world seemed to be spinning round them.
    And then he stopped.
    ‘Thought we’d better have a practice run,’ he said, though his voice sounded cracked. ‘Just so we know.’
    Colour flooded her cheeks. ‘I beg your pardon?’
    He had his back to her now so she couldn’t see his face—couldn’t tell what was going on in his head. ‘We’ve never kissed. Properly, I mean. So I didn’t want the first time to be in front of an audience.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘In case you pushed me away or slapped my face.’ There was still that strange, strained quality to his voice. Kirsty didn’t understand. ‘Why would I push you away?’
    ‘Because you’re my best friend and I’m not supposed to kiss you like that,’ he informed her roughly.
    Kirsty was suddenly back on Planet Earth. What had just happened between them hadn’t been real. Not in his book, anyway. He’d done it so that if they had to kiss in public—as would probably be expected of a newly engaged couple—she would play her part and kiss him back for their audience’s sake, not back off or slap his face or make a smart remark.
    Suddenly, the sun coming through the window seemed a lot less bright.
    She shook herself. Ridiculous. She’d agreed to do this, hadn’t she? Especially after this morning, now Morag had as good as confirmed Ben’s fears. She couldn’t back out now—not without causing Morag a lot of needless hurt.
    ‘Morag’s waiting for us,’ she said quietly. ‘We’d better go back downstairs.’
    Ben followed her down again, cursing himself. Kirsty looked as if she’d been thoroughly kissed, her lips reddened and slightly swollen. Hell, she had just been thoroughly kissed, and he still didn’t understand why he’d done it. He just hadn’t been able to help himself. Remembering how she’d felt in his arms, the softness of her skin against his, the way her body had responded to him even in sleep…
    And now he’d just wrecked the best friendship he’d ever had. Because it would be the same as always—get too close and it’d all fall apart. So then she’d back off, probably end up moving out, and he’d lose her for ever.
    You’re a complete idiot, Ben Robertson, he told himself roughly. And it’d serve you right if she walked out on you right now.
    Panic fluttered in his stomach. Kirsty wouldn’t walk out on him—would she? Yesterday, he’d have said no, of course not. He’d have been confident. Today, now he’d kissed her…he wasn’t so sure.
    And he didn’t like the feeling.
    * * *
    Morag didn’t notice any tension between them—or, if she did, she didn’t draw attention to it. She merely shepherded them out to Ben’s hire car and insisted on sitting in the back, which left Kirsty’s knees only a few centimetres from Ben’s…Gulping, she slid her hand through the grab handle at the top of the window and held onto it for dear life. It wasn’t just the narrow road that made her feel this nervous.
    ‘Feartie,’ Ben mouthed at her.
    ‘Mad driver,’ she mouthed back.
    ‘Kirsty, you’re perfectly safe with me.