âLauren?â he murmured, but if it was a question she had no idea of the answer
Suddenly he tightened his grip again, wrapping his arms completely around her, and then he was rolling the two of them over.
He stared down at her for a moment that stretched into infinity and she could see the battle he was fighting with himself. She held her breath, trying to tell herself that she didnât care one way or another, then she saw his head angle toward her and she knew sheâd lied.
Then his lips met hers in the briefest and most gentle of kisses, just a fleeting impression of sweetness and warmth. It was perfect, and yet almost as soon as it started it was over, and she was definitely disappointed when he lifted his head again. Sheâd wanted so much more.
When I started planning this book along with the sequel in the duet, More Than a Gift, I wanted to explore the effect that familiesâor lack of themâcan have on us. So Lauren and Laurel were born.
Take a woman whoâs never really felt as if sheâs belonged anywhere and put her together with a man who needs her to stayâand there are bound to be sparks! Then throw in the accusation that this highly recommended woman, just appointed by this man, might not be everything that she seemsâ¦and yet, sheâs everything that he hadnât realized he wanted.
Lauren is strong and self-sufficient because sheâs had to be. Sheâs been on her own long enough to learn how to look after herself, but then she meets Mac and needs to learn a whole new lesson: how good it can feel when someone cares for you. And when it becomes more than caringâ¦.
Laurelâs story will be coming in December. I hope you enjoy finding out about each of them as much as I enjoyed the writing.
Josie
LAUREN stepped outside the hospitalâs side door, paused just long enough to hear the night safety lock catch, then closed her eyes in pleasure as she breathed in.
Even though sheâd been in Edenthwaite ten days now, she was still amazed that the air was scented by the myriad things it had passed on its way from the distant fells. Perhaps in time she would become used to it, but after a busy first week on the staff at Denison Memorial, this was one of her newest pleasures.
She drew another draught deep into her lungs and let it out on a sigh. She really hoped that this would be the place that finally made her feel as if she could settle her roots permanently. She was so tired of feeling restless, especially as she didnât know what she was looking for.
Perhaps, surrounded by the wild beauty of such an unspoiled region of the country, she wouldnât feel the urge to see what lay over the next hillâ¦unless she was wearing her new walking boots and doing the exploration just to familiarise herself with her new home.
âOnly time will tell,â she murmured briskly as she set off towards the staff car park, then scowled at the darkness that enfolded her once sheâd turned the first corner.
âThe dratted man still hasnât done anything about those lights,â she muttered, and made a mental note to beard the lion in his den. No matter what her personal feelings about Marc Fletcher, he was the hospitalâs chief administrator and, as such, ensuring staff safety was his responsibility.
It wasnât that the hospital was in a high-risk cityâEdenthwaite couldnât have been more idyllic in the fading warmth of a September evening. Unfortunately, there were some facets of modern life that had permeated even this little corner of paradise, and one way to guard against them was to have safety lighting working once darkness fell.
âI told him about it the other day,â she grumbled under her breath, remembering the way the senior administrator had appeared in her department yet again. It was almost as though he didnât trust her to be able to do her job, although she knew for a fact that heâd checked every one of her references.
What was it about the man?
He knew that she was perfectly well qualified for the post, so it couldnât be that. And she hadnât had time to do or say anything to upset him.
âMind you, Iâm not sure how youâd tell if he was upset,â she added snidely, remembering the stony face heâd turned on her each time theyâd encountered each other.
Not that he was bad-looking, by any means. His dark hair might be a little shorter than she preferred and the occasional silver strands at his temples made him look distinguished rather than older. His eyes were a strange smoky grey, almost as though the colour was a deliberate screen against anyone reading his thoughts.
As for his body, she was quite ashamed to admit that sheâd actually found her eyes following him as heâd stalked off down the corridor the other day. Sheâd been almost mesmerised by the lithe, ground-eating strides and the evidence of taut, compact muscles camouflaged by his impeccably pressed suit, and she wasnât someone prone to ogling men.