Michael's Baby

Brett could feel his heart pounding beneath her hand, which she’d rested against his chest. Her fingers clutched his shirt at the wickedly pleasurable things he was doing to her. This was more than a kiss. It was a complete seduction of the senses.

The sound of metal clanging on the wooden floor echoed in her head, sounding as if she were standing inside the ringing Liberty Bell. Startled, she pulled away. “What was that?”

“I have no idea,” he said, his voice raspy.

She had the feeling he was referring to what had just happened between them. He might not have any idea, but she sure did. Brett was panicked that she was falling for him. No wonder Keisha had said oh-oh. It was as plain as the freckles on Brett’s nose that there was no hope for a woman like her with a man like him. So what if he’d kissed her? After all, she’d practically thrown herself at the poor man.

She stood frozen as he calmly picked up the silver key that had fallen on the floor and started talking about it-as if the mind-blowing kiss they’d just shared hadn’t happened.

Taking her cue from him, she bit her bottom lip and forced herself to concentrate on his words, trying to match his look of unconcern.

“This key came in that box I got—the one that arrived the same day you did.”

Great, she thought to herself. Now he made her sound like a package he’d received in the mail.