Unveiled (One Night 3)

Miller returns his eyes to the road, and I remain tense in my seat, but Nan keeps expectant eyes on my OCD-suffering, ex-prostitute, notorious male ex-escort . . .

I sigh. My mind hasn’t the strength to even mentally list the endless sinful things that Miller was.

‘I plan on worshipping your granddaughter for the rest of my life, Mrs Taylor,’ Miller says quietly, yet Nan’s wistful coo indicates she heard it perfectly, and that might just be good enough. It is for me, and though I constantly tell myself no one else matters, Nan’s approval really does. I think I have it. I’ll just have to keep telling myself that her lacking knowledge is of no consequence, that her opinion wouldn’t change in the least bit if she knew every sordid detail.

‘Home sweet home, my lady.’ Miller breaks into my stray thoughts as we pull up to Nan’s house. I notice George and Gregory on the pavement outside, both men sitting on the low wall at the end of our front garden, both men looking apprehensive. I haven’t the time or energy to waste on worrying about Miller and Gregory in such close proximity. They just better behave.

‘What are they doing here?’ Nan grumbles, making no attempt to get out, instead waiting for Miller to open the door for her. She’s not fooling me. She’s loving all of the special treatment, not that she doesn’t get it under normal circumstances. ‘I’m not an invalid!’

‘I beg to differ,’ Miller retorts firmly, offering his hand, which she takes on a little scowl. ‘Less of the sass, Mrs Taylor.’

I chuckle to myself as I get out of the car and join them on the pavement, hearing Nan huffing and puffing all over Miller. ‘The cheek!’

‘Olivia’s certainly learned from the best of them,’ he grumbles, giving Nan up to George when he steps forward, a worried look all over his old round face.

‘How are you feeling, Josephine?’ George says, taking Nan’s arm.

‘I’m fine!’ She accepts Georges arm, indicating her need for support, and lets him lead her up the garden path. ‘How are you, Gregory?’ she asks as she passes him. ‘And Ben?’

He’s told her? I look to my friend, as does Miller, as does George. Four sets of eyes are all resting on Gregory, spiking a string of uncomfortable shifting movements to play out before us. His boots scuff the concrete, he flicks us all wide eyes, and we all just stand staring at the poor guy, waiting for his reply. He coughs. ‘Um, yeah, fine. We’re fine. How are you, Nan?’

‘Perfect,’ she replies in an instant, and nudges George on his way. ‘Let’s make some tea.’

Everyone jumps back into action and follows Nan and George towards the house, but I quickly take over the lead so I can open the front door, allowing them all to pass as I hold it open. The deep inhale that she takes as she’s helped over the threshold and absorbs the familiarity of her home fills me with bliss that could rival the wonderful place that Miller takes me to when I’m the sole focus of his attention. And that’s some mighty blissful place. Having her home, seeing and hearing her sass, it’s all stamping out other more challenging matters that I’m currently doing anything to avoid dealing with.

Gregory wanders in, giving me a cheeky wink that escalates my happiness, followed by Miller, who takes over my hold of the door and nods for me to continue. ‘Such a gentleman,’ I tease, turning to see Nan now guiding George to the kitchen at the back of the house, when she should be settling on the couch or maybe even going to bed. This is going to be hard work. She’s impossible! On a roll of my eyes, I make chase, set on nailing down a few rules, but a sharp slap of my arse stops me dead in my tracks. The sting is instant and I reach to rub the soreness away as I whirl around, finding Miller pushing the door closed.

‘Ouch!’ Ouch? I have no other words. Miller Hart – my man whose manners put royalty to shame, just slapped my arse? Not patted. Slapped. And a stinger of a slap, too.

A perfectly straight face slowly turns to me, and he inhales as he smoothes down his suit, taking his usual ridiculous time and care, while I remain totally dumbfounded before him, waiting for . . . something . . . anything.

‘Give me something!’ I blurt, still rubbing at my backside.

He finishes up perfecting his perfect suit, then sweeps his perfect hair from the goddamn perfect face. His eyes darken. My legs cross in my standing position. ‘Another one?’ he asks casually, a glint of mischief in his beautiful eyes.

I take a deep breath and hold it, biting at my bottom lip furiously. What’s gotten into him? Is Nan rubbing off on him?

‘What I’d actually like to do is sink my teeth into that gorgeous, cute arse.’

All breath leaves my lungs and sexual anticipation devours me. The bastard. He has no intention whatsoever of finishing what he’s started. But that doesn’t zap my craving or my need. Damn him!

He nears, slowly, like he’s on the prowl, my eyes following him until he’s breathing down on me. ‘Sweet Nan isn’t in any fit state to be brandishing a carving knife.’ He wiggles a suggestive eyebrow. It’s probably the most unlike-Miller action of all the unlike-Miller actions I’ve experienced as our relationship has grown. I can’t help myself. I fall to pieces before him, but he doesn’t recoil in offense like I expect him to. He starts laughing, too, and while my desperate desire for him has faded somewhat, the overwhelming happiness coursing through me is a good compromise.

‘Don’t be so sure.’ I chuckle as he takes my waist and turns me in his arms, starting to guide me down the hall with his chin resting on my shoulder. ‘I think her sass has multiplied as a result of all that medication.’