Free Where the Heart Chooses by Tinnean Page B

case, yes, thanks.” I folded my
napkin, set it down on the table, and reached for my coffee
cup.
    “You’re quite the cook, Portia.”
    “No. I’m quite the hostess.” I smiled into
his eyes. “I have a confession to make.”
    “You didn’t make all this yourself?” His
eyebrow rose to disappear under the lock of hair that spilled over
his forehead. I always had such a desire to stroke it back.
    I burst into laughter. “How did you
know?”
    “Your brother made a point of warning me
just before I left for the day.”
    “Well, I had every intention of telling you
before you left. Are you disappointed?”
    “I’m not. I think your talents lie in other
directions.”
    I hoped he’d let me show him.
    He glanced at his wristwatch and pushed his
chair back from the table.
    “You’re not leaving!”
    “I think it might be a good idea if I
did.”
    “Why?”
    “Shall I be truthful with you?”
    “Please.”
    “If I don’t leave now, I’m afraid I won’t
leave until morning.”
    I rose and went to stand before him, and
rested my palms on his chest. His heart was beating in slow, heavy
thuds, and I could feel the vibrations. He looked down into my
eyes. Usually it irritated me when a man did that, but with Nigel…I
ran a fingertip over his lower lip. “Please stay.”
    “Portia, you understand we won’t simply sit
on the couch and…and neck. If I stay, I won’t have any choice but
to make love to you.”
    “Yes, please.”
    “Portia…”
    I went up on my tiptoes and brought our
mouths together. His lips were dry, and he wouldn’t part them for
me, so I ran my tongue over them, making it easier to brush my own
lips over his. He still refused to open his mouth. “So stubborn,” I
murmured and licked at the seam, teasing it. “I want you, Nigel. I
don’t say that casually.”
    “Your brothers…”
    “You won’t be making love to them.” For all
his objections, I wasn’t worried that perhaps he might like men.
The erection against my abdomen informed me that even if he did, he
liked me as well.
    He groaned and finally met my tongue with
his as he scooped me up. “Bedroom!”
    “Yes, darling.”
    “No.” His laugh was strained. “Where is
it?”
    I blindly gestured toward the door, and he
carried me there, kissing me the entire time.
    * * * *
    Afterward, Nigel groaned. “God, Portia, I’m
so sorry!”
    “Why?” It had been the most amazing
experience, and I was still tingling from head to toe as
aftershocks rippled through my body.
    “I…I didn’t pull out.”
    I had made Nigel Mann, known to all and
sundry as the coldest, most contained man in Washington, lose
control. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed the corner of his
mouth. “You don’t need to worry.”
    “Of course I do. If you become
pregnant…”
    “I won’t. Before you arrived this evening, I
inserted my diaphragm.”
    “You…you use a diaphragm?”
    “Shouldn’t I? I don’t believe in being
careless.”
    “I…”
    “However, even if I should become pregnant,
I wouldn’t use that to entrap you.” All my life I’d seen how
unhappy my parents were, and I’d never subject myself to a loveless
marriage. I’d stay single and raise my child on my own.
    “It wouldn’t be entrapment.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “There are two of us in this bed, Portia.”
He braced himself on his hands and looked down into my eyes. “I
can’t say I blame you for not wanting to marry me—”
    “What?”
    “What woman wants to marry a cold fish?”
    I burst into laughter. “And what man wants
to marry an ice princess? Now, stop talking nonsense. You’ll have
to leave before dawn—”
    “Yes. If your brothers discover I’ve been in
your bed, they just might see I become this century’s Abelard.”
    I reached down, wedged my hand between our
bodies, and caressed his cock with my fingertips. “That would be
such a waste.”
    “Portia, I’m serious.”
    “I know. And so am I when I say I wouldn’t
allow it. Nigel,