McIver's Mission Read online

  He tried to redirect his thoughts, but knew he was lost when her tongue swept along her bottom lip, licking away the remnants of hot fudge. He wanted desperately to kiss her—to taste the sweetness of the chocolate, and the sweeter bliss that was Arden.

  Throughout the drive across town, he reminded himself that there were parameters to this relationship. Arden was still insisting that she wanted to be friends, and although Shaun didn't doubt that he could change her mind, he'd vowed to take things slowly. He just hadn't anticipated that it would be so difficult to do so.

  He found a parking space on the street outside her building and walked her up to her apartment. He could feel the tension building inside her, mounting with each step. He could almost hear her ongoing mental debate about whether or not to invite him inside. Whether she did or didn't wouldn't matter. He'd already decided that the evening would end at her door. She was expecting him to push, so he'd decided to pull back a little.

  She turned at the door, her key in hand.

  "It's late," she said, her breathy tone in contrast to the dismissive statement.

  "Yes, it is," he agreed. "Good night, Arden."

  He turned away. And he smiled as he walked down the stairs because he knew she was staring after him, stunned.

  She'd expected him to kiss her. She'd wanted him to kiss her. He'd seen the desire in her eyes that mirrored his own. But he'd decided to stop being so predictable, to give her a dose of the unexpected. And though his body was craving full contact, his mind was satisfied with the strategic retreat. He knew he was in for another sleepless night, but he was willing to bet that Arden would be tossing and turning as well.

  * * *

  Arden had to be in court Friday morning, for which she was grateful. After her dinner with Shaun the previous evening, she'd tossed and turned all night. She tried not to think about him, tried not to speculate as to what was going on between them, but it was an exercise in futility. When she finally did sleep, she dreamed about him.

  She wasn't comfortable with the array of emotions he evoked in her, not the least of which was desire. It wasn't as if she'd never been attracted to a man before. She'd had boyfriends, lovers, but she'd never felt the depth or strength of passion that she felt when she was with Shaun. Not even with Brad.

  She didn't want a relationship. She didn't have time for complications. But she couldn't stop thinking about Shaun.

  She was tired and a little dejected when she returned to the office after her morning in court. She loved her work—it gave her a sense of accomplishment and a feeling of satisfaction to know that she was doing something important to help people.

  She didn't feel as if she'd helped anyone today. Against Arden's advice, her client had insisted on withdrawing her application for a protection order and reconciling with her estranged husband. The client's decision had almost broken Arden's heart, partly because she was afraid for her client, mostly because of the client's eight-year-old daughter. The little girl had stood silently by her mother's side, her wide blue eyes filled with a mixture of fear and helplessness and resignation. Arden knew those emotions only too well, and she could do nothing to help her.

  It was days like this that she wished she'd chosen a profession that was less emotionally demanding. But she took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and prepared to enter the chaos of her office.

  She wasn't prepared for the flowers.

  They were sitting in the center of her desk—a huge bouquet of yellow gerbera daisies. She reached up and brushed a fingertip gently over the velvety soft petals, then buried her nose in the flowers, inhaling their subtle fragrance. She picked up the card that was tucked amid the blooms.

  "Just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you, Shaun."

  She felt her heart sigh and chastised herself for the reaction. She'd told him that flowers and candlelight wouldn't change her mind about becoming involved with him, and yet here she was, mooning over a bunch of yellow blossoms. Her only consolation was that he couldn't see her, wouldn't know the effect the gesture had on her.

  She pushed the vase to the corner of her desk, where she'd be able to see them throughout the day and think of him. She'd been so sure she had Shaun McIver pegged, but he was turning out to be a lot more complex than she'd expected. A lot more complex than she wanted.

  She'd told him, time and time again, that she didn't want a relationship. Every time she did, he nodded in apparent agreement, then did something—like send her beautiful gerberas for absolutely no reason—that made her want to reconsider. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be in a relationship, she thought briefly, if it was with someone like Shaun.

  She shook her head. Getting involved with Shaun was a bad idea. Tempting, but still bad. Besides, she was no longer even certain that Shaun wanted to get involved with her. The kiss he'd laid on her before dinner had practically buckled her knees, but at the end of the evening, when he'd walked her up to her apartment, he'd simply wished her good-night and turned away. He hadn't even attempted to kiss her again. And she'd wanted him to kiss her, dammit.

  She shook her head, shook off the frustration. Knowing Shaun, he was sending her these mixed signals on purpose, deliberately trying to keep her off balance. Maybe hoping she'd topple right into his bed. She wouldn't—couldn't—let that happen.

  But her heart gave another little sigh as she ran her fingers over the words he'd inscribed on the florist's card. Then she tucked it away in the top drawer of her desk, out of sight of prying eyes.

  "Nice flowers."

  Arden jolted, then quickly slammed the drawer shut as her cousin walked through the door.

  "Hi, Nic."

  "Hello." Nikki paused to sniff at the blooms, smiled. "These are gorgeous."

  Arden nodded.

  "There's no card," Nikki said, disappointed. "Who are they from?"

  "Maybe I bought them myself—to brighten up the office."

  Nikki tilted her head, as if considering. "It's not something you would think of. You keep your office stocked with pens and paper and toys for the kids, but flowers are purely decorative. I don't think I've ever seen flowers in here before."

  Probably because no one had ever sent her flowers before. "Well, now you have."

  "So who sent them?"

  "A friend."

  Nikki smiled again. "We should all have friends like that."

  "Did you need some legal advice?" Arden asked pointedly. She never minded when Nikki stopped by her office, but she didn't want to answer any questions that led back to Shaun.

  "No, I need a favor."

  "What's that?"

  "A baby-sitter for tonight, if you don't already have plans."

  "When do I ever have plans?" Arden asked.

  "When do you ever have flowers on your desk?" Nikki countered.

  "I told you—they're from a friend."

  Nikki shrugged. "And maybe you have plans with this … friend … tonight."

  "I don't," was all Arden said.

  * * *

  Shaun sat at his desk, staring at the telephone as if he could will it to ring. He'd debated an inordinate amount of time about whether or not to send the flowers. With another woman, he would have just followed his gut. With Arden he was always second-guessing his own instincts.

  Once he'd made the decision to send flowers, he'd debated even longer about what kind. Roses were too common; orchids too flashy; carnations too plain. He considered a mixed bouquet—a combination of the ordinary and the extraordinary. When he'd seen the gerberas, the decision had been made. They reminded him of Arden: bright and beautiful and unpretentious.

  It had seemed like the right idea at the time. Now that he knew it was too late to rescind his order, he wasn't so sure. And it annoyed him that he was so preoccupied with her response to the gesture.

  This wasn't at all what he wanted from their … relationship, he decided, for lack of a better term. He wanted a casual distraction, something simple and easy. Instead he was all tied
up in knots trying to anticipate her reaction to a gesture as simple as a delivery of flowers.

  She wasn't his type, he reminded himself. She was too stubborn and independent. He wanted a woman he could take care of; someone who needed him. And yet, it was Arden who occupied his every waking thought. Arden who haunted his dreams. She must have received the flowers by now. Would she call to acknowledge the gift? Did she like them? He groaned under his breath. For all he knew, Arden could be allergic to flowers and she couldn't dial the phone because she was wheezing and covered in hives. He shook his head, exasperated with his own wild imaginings. He didn't have time or daydreams; he had work to do.

  But when Claire buzzed through to say that Arden was on the line, he leaped for the phone.

  He forgot all his annoyance and paranoia when he heard the low, sexy voice that never failed to punch him in the gut. He knew she had no idea how unconsciously seductive that voice was. Arden could talk about legal precedents or coffee or laundry in that voice, and all he could think about was sex. Not sex in general; sex with Arden.

  He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and forced himself to concentrate on the words she was speaking.

  "They're beautiful," she said.

  "I'm glad you like them," he told her. "I wasn't sure if you had a favorite flower. Or if you were allergic to flowers. And I was walking by the florist, and it was an impulse and—" He broke off, horrified to realize that he was babbling.

  "Thank you," she said softly.

  He swallowed, grateful that she couldn't see how embarrassed he was. "You're welcome."

  There was a short pause, then she said, "Well, I should get back to work. I just wanted to say thanks."

  "You're welcome," he said again.

  "Goodbye, Shaun."

  "Arden, wait." He cleared his throat. "I, uh … I have a couple of tickets to Shirley Valentine at the Fairweather Players' Theater tonight, if you're interested."

  There was a slight pause before she replied. "I'd love to see it, but I already have plans."

  "Oh." He tapped his pen against the blotter on his desk, annoyed that her refusal bothered him so much. It was, after all, a Friday night, and very short notice. He should have guessed that she'd have plans. "A date?"

  She laughed softly. He loved her laugh, the subtle sensuality of it. "Not exactly."

  He waited, but no further explanation was forthcoming. "What are your plans?" he asked, irritated that he'd had to pry, irritated that it even mattered to him.

  "I'm baby-sitting."

  "Oh." He considered. "Carly?"

  "Yes. Colin's taking Nikki out to dinner."

  "Maybe some other time, then," he said, already formulating a contingency plan.

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  « ^ »

  "Do you want butter?" Arden asked, raising her voice to be heard over the steady popping of the hot-air popper.

  Carly nodded enthusiastically. "Lots and lots."

  Arden took a stick of butter out of the fridge and sliced off the end. She put the chunk in a glass bowl and set it in the microwave.

  "All done," Carly announced.

  Only then did Arden realize the popping had stopped and the plastic bowl was overflowing with hot popcorn. She couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of guilt for her distraction. She loved spending time with Carly. She'd lived with her for the first five years of Carly's life, until Nikki and Colin remarried, and she missed the little girl a lot. But tonight, her thoughts were with Shaun.

  She wondered if he'd found someone else to take to the play, and she tried not to imagine who might be sitting beside him in the darkened theater. Sarah Jones, the criminal court clerk, who he'd dated a few times last year? Or Libby Walker, the new corporate attorney he'd recently hired?

  She shook off the speculation. It shouldn't matter. It didn't matter. After all, it wasn't as if she and Shaun were dating. They were just friends, and that's the way she wanted it. Still, there was at least a small part of her that wished she could have been with him tonight.

  She poured the butter over the top of the popcorn. Lots and lots of it, as Carly had requested.

  "Let's go watch your movie," she said, helping the child off the counter where she'd sat to watch the popcorn pop.

  "Okay." Carly skipped eagerly ahead.

  Arden had just stepped into the living room when she heard a knock. She set the bowl of popcorn on the table and went to see who was at the front door.

  It was Shaun.

  Her heart expanded in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. Somehow she managed to unlock and open the door. "I thought you were supposed to be at a play tonight."

  "I gave the tickets away." He didn't wait for an invitation but stepped past her and into the house.

  "Uncle Shaun." Carly launched herself off the couch and into Shaun's arms.

  Shaun scooped her into the air. "Mmm. You smell like baby powder and popcorn."

  Arden sighed wistfully as she watched them together. He was so natural with her, so comfortable. She knew he would be a great father. It was just one more reason she and Shaun were completely wrong for one another.

  "Auntie Arden and me were just gonna watch a movie," Carly said.

  "The Little Mermaid?" Shaun guessed.

  "Uh-huh." Carly nodded emphatically.

  "Haven't you worn out that tape yet?"

  "She got it on DVD for her birthday," Arden told him.

  Shaun rolled his eyes. "Who gave her that?"

  Arden grinned. "I did."

  "Do you wanna watch it with us?" Carly asked.

  "Are you going to share your popcorn?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "In that case, I'd love to watch it."

  Arden pressed a button on the remote to start the movie. "I'm going to get Carly some juice," she said to him. "Do you want something to drink?"

  "Sure." He followed her into the kitchen.

  Out of sight of the child in the living room, he spun Arden around to face him and covered her lips with his own. She didn't have time to think, to protest. Her mind simply blanked and her body melted into his. She couldn't breathe, but breathing no longer seemed important. Nothing mattered but kissing him back. He deepened the kiss gradually, until her blood was humming, her body was aching and her heart was trembling on the brink of something that terrified her. She pulled away, overwhelmed by the need churning inside her.

  "We're supposed to be friends," she said.

  He brushed his thumb over her lips, swollen from the pressure of his kiss. "Friendship is a good foundation," he agreed.

  She didn't ask for what. She wasn't prepared to debate their relationship again, not when her mind was still swimming from the effects of his kiss. Instead she stepped away, took a minute to steady herself. His signals confused her: one minute he seemed to accept the guidelines she'd set for their relationship, and the next he was kissing her mindless.

  It was no wonder her own reactions baffled her. Never had she felt so out of control. Never had she been so willing to relinquish control.

  What would happen if she gave in to the impulse and made love with Shaun? She was almost afraid to find out.

  She shook off the thought, the temptation. Whether or not she might, at some later date, explore the possibility, it wouldn't be tonight. Not in Nikki and Colin's house with a six-year-old child in the next room.

  She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a jug of fruit punch, poured some into a plastic cup for Carly.

  "Why did you give your theater tickets away?" she asked.

  "Because I wanted to be with you."

  Her heart did a slow, cautious roll inside her chest. "I think we've been spending too much time together."

  "We're friends," he said, turning her words to his own advantage. "Friends are supposed to spend time together."

  "Friends don't kiss like that," she said, almost accusingly.

  "Is there something wrong with the way I kiss?"

  "You know darne
d well that isn't what I meant."

  He stepped closer. "What did you mean?"

  "We need boundaries. If we're going to be friends, you can't kiss me anymore."

  "Screw the friendship thing," Shaun growled, dipping his head to nibble down the column of her throat.

  "Shaun." She wasn't sure if it was a plea for him to stop or to continue.

  "You want me, Arden. As much as I want you."

  She couldn't deny it. She didn't dare admit it. "What if Nikki and Colin come home and find you here?"

  "They'll assume, correctly, that I stopped by for a visit."

  "I don't want them to suspect that there's anything going on between us."

  "Why would they?" Shaun countered.

  "No more kissing," she said emphatically.

  He grinned. "Whatever you say."

  Her eyes narrowed, but she passed him a can of cola without further comment.

  Carly was yawning hugely by the time the movie ended and she gave no protest when Arden told her to go upstairs and brush her teeth. She didn't even ask for a story, but kissed both Arden and Shaun good-night and snuggled into her bed, asleep before they'd left the room.

  Back in the living room with Shaun, Arden reminded herself that they weren't really alone. But she felt unaccustomedly awkward and self-conscious all of a sudden. He tugged on her hand and pulled her onto the couch beside him. She didn't resist; she didn't want to.

  "I can't believe Nikki and Colin are going to have another baby," he said.

  "I'm just glad that Colin's going to be around for this one," Arden told him, relieved by his introduction of a neutral topic of conversation. "I don't think I could coach Nikki through another sixteen hours of labor."

  "That bad?"

  "I often wonder why women willingly put themselves through that kind of pain and torture."