Just Kate: His Only Wife (Bestselling Author Collection) by Linda Lael Miller, Cathy McDavid Page B

“We’ll talk later, love, when you’re settled in and rested.”
    Kate nodded.
    Sean bent his head and kissed her lightly on the lips, and Kate was almost knocked off her feet by the jolt that passed between them. In that moment she would have given her soul to lie beneath Sean, to share her body with him.
    But he left her standing in the middle of that beautifully decorated room, listening to the patter of winter rain against the windows.
    Kate was curled up in a chair, reading a paperback she’d brought with her on the plane, when the housekeeper rapped at the half-open door and stepped inside the room. Mrs. Manchester was a heavily built woman with friendly blue eyes and salt-and-pepper hair pulled back into a loose chignon. She smiled at Kate and went to the hearth to build a fire.
    “Nothing like a cheery blaze on a wet day,” she commented, dusting her hands together and looking back at Kate as the fire crackled to life. “Would you like some tea, miss?”
    Kate shook her head. “No, thank you,” she said, and an unexpected yawn escaped with the words.
    “Seems to me you might want to lie down and take a nap,” Mrs. Manchester observed. “Traveling so far takes such a lot out of a person.”
    The bed did look comfortable, and the dancing flames on the hearth gave Kate a cozy, protected feeling. “I think you’re right,” she said, and kicking off her shoes, she crossed the room to stretch out on the bed.
    Mrs. Manchester kindly covered her with a beautiful knitted afghan and slipped out, closing the door behind her.
    Kate drifted off to sleep and dreamed of a campfire under a sky ablaze with silver stars. There, in that imaginary world, Sean lay beside her, his hand on her breast. She whimpered and stretched, wanting more of his touch.
    “Kate.” His voice penetrated her dream, low and husky.
    She stretched again, still asleep, still needing.
    She felt his fingers at the buttons of her shirt. Cool air whispered over her skin as he took away her bra. The feel of his mouth on her hardened nipple brought her awake with a start.
    Although Sean was in the room, he was standing by the fireplace, and Kate was still fully dressed. Her disappointment was keen.
    “That must have been a pretty erotic dream,” he said, throwing another log on the fire before approaching the bed.
    Kate blushed in the relative darkness of the room, but her words were bold. “It was. You were making love to me beside a campfire.”
    “Rest assured, Katie-did,” he said, bending to kiss her forehead, “I’m not about to make love to you.”
    Kate glared up at him. “Why not?” she asked, insulted.
    “Because the guilt would eat you alive,” Sean answered. “For you at least, there would be three of us in the room—you, me and Abby.”
    Kate closed her eyes. As much as she wanted to cry out that he was wrong, she knew he wasn’t. She tossed back the afghan and sat up.
    “Mrs. Manchester made tea,” Sean said, indicating a wheeled cart sitting beside the fireplace.
    Apparently they were going to pretend they hadn’t discussed sex. Kate smoothed her hair and disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes. When she came out, she had recovered her dignity.
    She sat down in one of the two wing chairs facing the hearth and poured tea from a small china pot into a matching cup. There were strawberry scones, too, and various cookies she knew Sean would refer to as biscuits. Kate took a raspberry scone, even though she normally didn’t eat sugary foods.
    Sean was leaning against the fireplace mantle, watching Kate as though she were a complex puzzle. “Why are you here?” he asked.
    Kate took a sip of strong tea before answering, “I wanted to see Gil, of course.”
    “If that were all of it, you’d have been here a long time before now.”
    Avoiding his gaze, Kate reached for a cookie. The man made her nervous, and when she was nervous, she ate. She shrugged. “I guess you could say I’m looking for myself,” she