Free Tempted by Dr. Daisy by Catherine Anderson Page B

saw the fire blazing in them and realised he was hanging by a thread, holding onto his control so he didn’t rush her.
    He didn’t need to bother, but it was an interesting notion. She returned the favour, unbuttoning his shirt withagonising slowness, driving him to fever pitch. She slid the shirt off his shoulders, and as it fell to the floor, she looked past his shoulder to the bedside table and saw the picture.
    A little girl with a tumble of dark curls, a tiny turned-up nose and laughing eyes.
    Her father’s eyes.
    She turned her head back and unfastened his belt, then the stud of his jeans, then the zip, tooth by tooth.
    Florence was nothing to do with them. This was about them, not her. Fun dates, hot sex and no complications, remember, Daisy? And absolutely no ‘L’ word.
    Taking care not to look at the photo again, she moved into his arms and lifted up her face to his kiss.
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    She didn’t stay.
    â€˜The plumber’s coming at seven thirty tomorrow,’ he reminded her, ‘so I need to empty the airing cupboard and sort some stuff out.’
    She wanted him to ask her to stay, wanted to tell him she’d help him sort it out in the morning, they could do it together, but that was crazy, and she was still trying not to let herself fall for him. And she certainly wasn’t going to beg for crumbs.
    â€˜That’s fine, I’ve got things to do as well. Feel free to use my bathroom while yours is out of action,’ she offered instead, and he nodded his thanks and dropped a slow, lingering kiss on her lips as she left.
    â€˜No, no, no,’ he groaned, dragging himself away. ‘I have to get on. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.’ She nodded, and he kissed her again.
    â€˜Sleep tight,’ he murmured as he let her out, and she went home and made a cup of tea and took it to bed, reading her book and listening to the sound of him shiftingthings around next door, emptying the airing cupboard and moving the boxes off the landing, and she lay there and tried not to feel cheated.
    â€˜Oh, stop it! You knew the rules,’ she reminded herself, and clearly spending the night with her came under the heading of complications. She would soon get used to the routine.
    And as routines went, it sounded pretty straightforward. If she was in, and he was in, they’d see each other. If not, they wouldn’t.
    Wednesday evenings with Florence, he’d told her, were utterly sacrosanct, and from Friday to Sunday nights he would have her to stay, once the house was ready, but until then he’d stay with his ex at the weekends, as he had this weekend.
    She tried not to imagine them together. It had been plaguing her all weekend, but he said she’d been away, so they couldn’t have spent the weekend in a passionate clinch. Unless he’d lied? He’d seemed keen enough to make love to her after supper, but he hadn’t wanted her to stay the night, and her old insecurities came back to haunt her.
    Was monogamy one of the rules?
    Not that she was about to ask, but it was hard telling herself it was none of her business, because for all they had very strict rules, that was surely one of them?
    It hadn’t been for Mike. He’d been sleeping with his wife off and on the whole time they’d been together, she’d eventually discovered. And he wasn’t Mike, she reminded herself fiercely.
    Whatever, on Wednesday, Friday and Saturday evenings he’d have Florence, and on all the others he’d be free—free, and ready for some adult conversation and recreation. Especially the recreation, she thought with a twinge of sadness.
    And that was all she wanted from him, she reminded herself sharply. No complications, no painful, heart-wrenching involvement with little children who’d been so easy to slot into her life. No ‘L’ word. She didn’t want declarations of undying love, like she’d had from Mike, followed by the