‘Yes, we do. And Melissa has Greg and the children, of course, and she’s very generous about including me in things.’
He nodded thoughtfully. ‘And you’ve never been tempted to follow her example after seeing such domestic bliss—go down the normal route in life?’
‘Normal?’ Blossom’s laughter was hollow. ‘What’s normal?’
He surveyed her lazily, his voice smoky soft when he said, ‘Most ladies of my acquaintance want a partner, children, the nest thing. Even the most severely career-minded tend to have some in-built biological clock that starts ringing eventually. I lost a couple of damn good secretaries that way,’ he added as an afterthought, frowning.
‘You ought to inhabit the fashion and modelling world.’ Blossom grimaced. ‘Believe me, roses round the door and bonny, bouncing babies aren’t a priority with girls terrified they might put on an extra pound if they eat a chocolate bar or whatever.’
‘Good tip. I’ll look for a secretary there next time one skedaddles.’ He flexed his shoulders, taking a sip of his champagne before he said, ‘But you aren’t a model, you’re a photographer. Behind the camera. So, the question still holds.’ He smiled easily but his gaze was hard on her face.
‘What question?’ She was playing for time and she knew it, which in the circumstances was futile. Zak wouldn’t give up.
‘The roses round the door and bonny, bouncing babies thing—it holds no appeal whatsoever? Not in a few years, perhaps?’
She stared at him. If she was to answer truthfully it would be to say that up until the day Dean had left her she had never imagined she wouldn’t have a family one day in the future. She hadn’t been in a hurry when she’d met him, but neither had she thought she’d go through life childless. Now…
‘Let’s just say any appeal is far outweighed by remaining focused on what I really want,’ she prevaricated carefully. The tendency to glance into pushchairs these days, the odd sojourn into baby boutiques even when she wasn’t looking for presents for her nephew and nieces, the painful darts in her heart region, certain advertisements featuring women with full, rounded bellies or new mothers holding dimpled sleeping, infants brought forth—
All that was her business. Something she hadn’t shared with anyone.
‘A woman who really knows her own mind.’ He smiled. ‘And you’ve clearly got the drive and determination to make what you want happen. I’m impressed, Blossom.’
He didn’t look impressed, somehow. She couldn’t quite pin down the shadowed look in his eyes but it belied the smile. ‘Good.’ It was cool and dismissive, and she fully intended it to sound that way. He was the one who had forced her to say what she had, after all. If he disapproved for some reason, tough. She wasn’t about to answer to Zak Hamilton for anything.
‘And so you don’t have fun, don’t date, don’t let your hair down, ever? It’s all work, work, work?’
If the champagne hadn’t been so delicious she would have thrown it over him. It was for all the world as though she had just confessed to being an axe murderer. ‘Of course I have fun,’ she said stiffly. ‘That doesn’t necessarily have to go hand in hand with dating or having a man in my life. Believe it or not, the male sex is not the be all and end all of life. Women can get by without you, impossible though that sounds.’
‘I’m wounded.’ He grinned. ‘And I trust that “you” wasn’t meant for me personally?’
Blossom shrugged, refusing to melt. Having a conversation with Zak Hamilton was like the Spanish Inquisition. ‘Frankly,’ she said primly, ‘I don’t think there’s anything wrong in this day and age with being celibate, if you want to know. I know too many girls who wake up the next morning not knowing who they’ve gone to bed with the night before.’
Zak’s mouth twitched. ‘I promise you that when I take you into my bed you’ll remember every moment the next morning in vivid detail. How about that?’ The gaze was wicked.
‘Your confit spring-chicken?’
The waitress had returned with their first course, her sparkling eyes alight with a mixture of delight and envy. She had clearly heard every word. Blossom’s face matched the single scarlet rose in the bud vase in the centre of the table. She gulped at her champagne until the girl had gone, then bit back the hot words hovering on her tongue. She was not going to give even a hint of credibility to that remark by stating she had no intention of ever gracing his bed.
Zak didn’t seem bothered one way or the other, waving his fork at her as he said, ‘This is delicious, as good as I remember. Try some. I guarantee you’ll love it.’
She would have loved to lean across and tip the contents of the whole table into his lap, then leave with her nose in the air. The resulting mess and clatter would be wonderfully satisfying. But it was a long way back to Melissa’s, and the food did look exceptionally good. And she felt hungry.
She watched him as he lifted the champagne bottle from its icy bucket and
refilled her glass to the brim, before adding just a smidgen to his own. ‘Driving,’ he said in answer to her unspoken question. ‘I only ever have one glass when I’m driving.’
Model citizen. Blossom’s lip curled. Then she picked up her knife and fork and began to eat.
Chapter 4
The meal was wonderful, and when Zak suggested cherrimisu for dessert—a delicious chocolate-and-cherry dish somewhere between a Black Forest gateau and a tiramisu—Blossom didn’t protest, even though she was full. She’d diet it away tomorrow.
Zak had been a perfect gentleman since the bed remark, his conversation light and entertaining, and his body language easy and non-threatening. Somewhere between the sorbet and the beef Blossom found herself relaxing and enjoying the evening, helped not a little by several glasses of champagne. It wasn’t until she rose to her feet once she had finished the cherrimisu and before coffee was served that she realised the wine was really very potent. And she had drunk four glasses to Zak’s one. A ploy on his part, with the drive home in mind?
She tottered into the ladies’ cloakroom on Melissa’s high wedges and breathed a sigh of relief once she was safely in and the door to the restaurant was closed. She glanced at her reflection in the long mirror over the neat row of shining washbasins. Wide, bright eyes stared back at her along with cheeks dusted with pink. The face was that of a woman who had been enjoying herself. More than that, the eyes had a starry quality to them and her smile was slightly flirtatious.
Blossom straightened her mouth at once, frowning. She dabbed cold water over her wrists and pulled a brush through her thick, silky hair although it hadn’t needed it.
No more champagne and lots of coffee. She nodded to the thought. She dared bet he would make a pass at her at some point on the way home, and she wanted to be absolutely compos mentis when she rebuffed him. No hesitation, no vacillation; that wouldn’t do with a man like Zak Hamilton. Any weakness on her part and he would pounce for the kill. And she didn’t flatter herself that he particularly fancied her either. As she had originally suspected, she was now sure he saw her merely as a challenge, nothing more. She would be the world’s biggest fool to be tempted, and she had had enough of playing that no-win role. Nowadays she was in control of her emotions. Always.
Zak was leaning lazily back in his chair when she walked into the restaurant, idly glancing around him. Blossom paused for some moments in the doorway, watching him. Or, rather, watching people watching Zak. Women, to be precise. He was receiving the same covert glances, the same interest, that Dean had when they had been out in a public place.
Her eyes lingered on a pretty redhead who seemed unable to tear her eyes away from Zak. The redhead’s companion looked to be a nice man, good looking in a sort of stout, tweeds-and-pipe, pillar-of-the-community way. Blossom could tell the man had noticed the redhead’s interest but was trying to ignore it. She didn’t understand women like this one, although she had come into contact with quite a few in the months she had been with Dean. Women who made it clear they were available e
ven though they were with someone else. It was so rude for everyone concerned.
She marched across the room and took her seat, turning and looking the other woman straight in the eye after she had sat down. The redhead’s green gaze narrowed before lowering to the food in front of her. Tweeds-and-pipe pretended he hadn’t seen.
It was a small victory, silly even. Blossom acknowledged this at the same time as reaffirming she needed the coffee.
‘Cream and sugar?’ Zak pushed both towards her as she turned to him. ‘And there’s some home-made chocolates, too.’
Gritting her teeth, Blossom said, ‘I’ll have black, please.’ Penitence for the overindulgence with the champagne, because she hated black coffee. She also hated lowering herself to the moral standards of the redhead, which was what she felt she’d done in showing the woman her annoyance.
Although, hang on a minute…Blossom drank half the cup of coffee straight down, scalding hot as it was. Why shouldn’t she demand some respect? That was all she had been doing.
‘Would you like a brandy to go with that?’
She raised her gaze to see Zak’s eyebrows quirked enquiringly. In view of her anger at the redhead and Zak—in the latter case unfairly, she admitted, because as far as she could ascertain he hadn’t even been aware of the woman’s interest—Blossom felt a horribly inappropriate knot of desire somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach as she looked into the sapphire eyes. ‘No, thank you,’ she said tightly. ‘I’ve had too much champagne as it is.’ Just to let him know that she was aware of it, and was taking the pertinent action by way of the black coffee.
‘OK.’ Zak half-smiled and selected one of the chocolates.
Blossom sighed inwardly. Here she was turning herself inside out and the swine was so relaxed it wasn’t true. It also wasn’t fair. But then when was life ever fair? Only in fairy tales. In real life the Juliettes and redheads of this world walked off with the guy every time. Or so it seemed.
‘You didn’t meet a troll in the ladies’ cloakroom, did you?’
‘What?’ Blossom’s gaze focused. What on earth had he said?
‘It’s just that you’ve been glaring into thin air since you returned, and I think you might be ruining our fellow diners’ appetites. A few of them are looking quite nervous.’
‘Very funny.’ She couldn’t help a slight curve of her lips.
‘That’s better. Let them enjoy their food.’
Somehow his fingers had reached her hand and were slowly stroking her skin. Blossom tried to ignore what it was doing to her nerve endings. Nerve endings she hadn’t known existed in some places. Wondering how she could extract the hand not holding her coffee cup without being too obvious, Blossom said a little croakily, ‘I hadn’t realised how much champagne I’d had, that’s all. I don’t like feeling tipsy.’
‘Don’t worry, you’re in safe hands.’ His fingers had found the sensitive flesh above her pulse on her wrist.
Ha! The oldest line in the book used by the worst wolves.
‘Your skin is like silk,’ Zak murmured. ‘And your hair has that quality, too. Silky, soft, scented.’ His gaze began to wander over her face. ‘I want to bury my hands in your hair and draw you close.’ He suddenly let go of her and sat back in his seat with something akin to surprise on his face. ‘Hell, that sounded like something out of a third-rate movie,’ he said with comical chagrin. ‘I’m not normally so crass.’
Blossom was glad he didn’t know how much he’d affected her. She had been sitting as spellbound as a rabbit before the headlights of an oncoming car. Forcing a smile, she said, ‘It can’t be the champagne, you’ve only had one glass. Perhaps you’re just losing your touch?’
Something glittered in the blue eyes. ‘Is that a challenge?’
Had it been? In her subconscious? ‘Of course not.’ Blossom gave herself a mental telling-off. She couldn’t afford to be like this. Damn the champagne. She must watch herself.
‘Pity.’ His smile caused her heart to start to pound uncomfortably fast. ‘I’ve always loved a challenge.’
‘Well, it wasn’t,’ she said very firmly, just so he knew.
‘OK, I get the message.’
Then why was he still looking so pleased with himself? Blossom buried her nose in her coffee cup, drained it and reached for a refill. Bring on the caffeine, she thought darkly.
‘Allow me.’ He’d anticipated her, and as their fingers touched on the coffee jug Blossom felt the contact down to her toes. She shakily exhaled. This was crazy, ridiculous. She was thirty-four years old, for goodness’ sake, not a fourteen-year-old schoolgirl out on her first date. She’d been married, she knew all there was to know about sex and lust and the rest of it, so how come fireworks went off with just the feel of his hand on hers? That had never happened with Dean, and she’d been head over heels in love then. It was more than disconcerting.
‘Thank you.’ She lifted the now-full cup of coffee and drank as though she had been in the Sahara without any water for weeks. She’d never felt so out of her depth in all her life as she did right now. The thought of the long drive home in the scented dark night with Zak was making her weak at the knees.
In the event, it was something of an anti-climax. After Zak had paid the bill—giving the blonde waitress an extremely generous tip if her breathless ‘Oh, thank you, sir,’ was anything to go by—they had walked out to the car, but this time his hand on the small of her back was absent. She’d missed the contact. Which warned her yet again she was playing with fire. Not that she didn’t already know.
Once she was safely installed in the car he closed the passenger door before walking round the bonnet, his black hair shining in the moonlight. She had a momentary weird feeling that all this was a dream, that she couldn’t really be with this gorgeously magnetic man in the sort of car normally only seen on the silver screen. Then he slid in beside her, fastening his seat belt after glancing to see hers was secured, and they were off as the powerful car growled into life. And she knew it wasn’t a dream. It was mind-blowing reality.
They didn’t chat so much on the way home. Zak seemed a little preoccupied. Now, far from wondering when he was going to make a move on her, Blossom was thinking he couldn’t wait to be rid of her. He’d done his duty and taken her out for a meal as a sort of favour to Greg, she thought dismally, and now clearly wanted to get back to his normal life.
When they scrunched into Melissa’s front garden Blossom knew she hadn’t drunk enough coffee. Why else would she be mourning the fact that she wouldn’t know what it was like to be kissed by Zak? Talk about inconsistency.
The house was in darkness except for a dim light showing from the hall through the glass in the front door. ‘Looks like everyone’s in bed,’ Blossom said brightly, just to start the ‘thank you for taking me out, and goodbye’ speech she’d been rehearsing for the last few miles. Nice and casual and short.
‘I’ve enjoyed tonight.’ Zak turned towards her, one arm sliding along the back of her seat. ‘Very much.’
She felt the world stop spinning. She wanted to say something, something light, but nothing came to mind. Not with his arm round her shoulders and the faint tang of that toe-curlingly sexy aftershave in her nostrils. All she could do was watch as his mouth came closer…
The kiss was non-invasive at first, a warm stroking of her lips that was incredibly sweet. Her eyes shut, she drank in the sensations his mouth and his body warmth were creating, a trembling starting somewhere deep in the core of her. How long it was before the kiss deepened she didn’t know, but her lips had parted involuntarily to allow him access, and the heady rush of desire that followed took her unawares. Something like an electric shock coursed through her when his tongue fuelled the pleasure, the deep, soft darkness outside the car cocooning them in a world of taste and touch that was breathtakingly erotic. Dangerous, too, but so, so delectable.
She had known he would be good at this, but the little needles of sheer, primitive passion and the sensual stirring
of her blood had her quivering in a way she couldn’t hide; it was as though she had no control of her body. She was mesmerised, enchanted by what he was doing to her, all reserve abandoned as thrills of excitement trembled down her spine.
‘You’re beautiful…’ The murmur was soft against her skin. ‘And potent, like warm wine. If we weren’t in a car outside your sister’s house…’
The words, quiet and barely a breath in the shadows, were nevertheless enough to break the spell. Her eyes opened to look into his as an awareness of what she was doing hit. The brilliance of the blue eyes, so bright in the darkness, held her still for one more moment and then she pulled away from him, pressing against the passenger door as she whispered, ‘I have to go in, I can’t do this. I’m sorry, but I just can’t.’
‘Can’t do what?’ The murmur was warm, smoky.
‘This.’ She fumbled for the handle, suddenly desperate to escape. ‘I don’t want this.’
‘A goodnight kiss?’ he said lazily, leaning back in his seat.
She didn’t answer, half falling out of the car as she heard him swear softly before opening his own door. As she righted herself he reached her, taking her hand when she would have brushed past him. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked softly. ‘Hell, I wasn’t about to force you, woman. You were perfectly safe.’
Not from herself. Breathing deeply, Blossom fought for control. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said as evenly as she could, ‘but I don’t want to get involved. I mean, I don’t want—’ She took another breath. ‘I don’t want to kiss you, I don’t want to kiss anyone. I’d made that perfectly clear before tonight.’
‘OK, OK, calm down,’ he said soothingly.
He was looking at her as though she was mad, and perhaps she was, Blossom thought hysterically. One minute there with him all the way, and the next behaving like an outraged virgin.
‘Have you been hurt—physically? Are you afraid of me?’
She groaned inside. This was awful, humiliating. She shook her head wordlessly, not trusting her voice.
His Christmas Bride Page 6
