The Nurse's Wedding Rescue (Lakeside Mountain Rescue 2)

‘You were great. I would never have known you were born and bred in the city.’

Helen stood still, her eyes on the mountains that she was steadily growing to love. ‘It’s going to be really hard to leave.’

Oliver heaved his rucksack into the boot, slammed it shut and turned to face her. ‘Then don’t.’ His voice was hoarse. ‘Don’t leave, Helen. Stay.’

He cupped her face in his hands and lowered his mouth to hers, his kiss so hot and urgent that she felt flames reach up from deep within and devour her self-control.

She felt the erotic lick of his tongue, felt his strong hands drawing her against him, felt the flash of energy and passion that exploded between them.

With the temperature dropping rapidly, she should have felt cold, but all she felt was warmth.

When he finally eased away from her, she felt bereft and looked at him in disbelief and confusion.

How could he bring an end to something so perfect?

‘It will be dark soon. We need to get home.’

Helen hid her disappointment, uncomfortably aware that she wouldn’t have been able to end that kiss even if an avalanche had engulfed them both.

‘Right…’ She tried to look suitably indifferent. As if kisses like that came and went all the time.

He gave a humourless laugh and ran a hand over the back of her neck. ‘If you’re for one moment thinking that I found it easy to stop that kiss, there’s something I ought to tell you.’ He curved a hand under her chin and forced her to look at him. ‘Next time I kiss you, townie, I’m not stopping.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE Drunken Fox was crowded with people that evening, but for Helen there was only Oliver.

She couldn’t remember ever being so aware of a man.

They’d finished their walk in virtual silence and when they’d arrived back at the cottage, Oliver had pushed her gently towards the stairs.

‘You have the first shower,’ he’d said gruffly. ‘We’re going out in less than an hour.’

And now they were both in the pub and all Helen could think about was going home again.

Realising that in just a few hours they would be alone in the cottage together with no threat of interruptions, Helen felt her tummy tumble with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.

Oliver had made it perfectly clear that he wanted their relationship to go all the way.

Did she?

From the moment they’d entered the pub, Oliver hadn’t strayed from her side, and even now she could feel the brush of his muscular shoulder against hers as he lounged casually against the bar, chatting to Tom.

It came as no surprise that he seemed to know everyone in the pub, and after three weeks in the Lake District Helen was starting to get used to the fact that everyone seemed to know everyone else’s business. And she liked it. Liked the fact that people cared about each other.

She glanced around the cosy pub, loving the warm, intimate atmosphere created by a flickering log fire and a bunch of people who clearly knew each other extremely well. It smelt of wood smoke and welcome, a place to relax after a hard day.

She felt Oliver’s arm slide around her waist, trapping her against him as he stood chatting to his brother at the bar.

He was wearing a pair of worn jeans that moulded themselves perfectly to the hard muscle of his thighs and a soft wool jumper that emphasised the breadth and power of his shoulders.

He looked so sexy and male that she was finding it hard to breathe.

And he seemed so relaxed it was hard to believe that he was the same man who’d kissed her breathless earlier.

Perhaps he’d changed his mind about the way he felt.

And then he turned to say something to her and something in his gaze made her realise that he wasn’t relaxed at all. And he certainly hadn’t changed his mind.