Gentlemen Prefer...Brunettes

by Fielding, Liz

  ‘It was nothing.’ For him it had been nothing! ‘In fact—’

  ‘You know, I’ve misjudged you. I’d heard all these stories about you, but you’re not a bit the way Lucy described you.’

  ‘Lucy?’

  ‘My secretary. She warned me about you. Told me that the male staff members were laying bets about how fast you could get me into bed.’

  ‘Really?’ He cleared his throat. ‘And you believed that?’

  ‘Isn’t it true?’ Veronica looked positively coy. ‘How disappointing.’

  Cassie had to bite her lip as Nick fielded a jaw that practically hit the floor. ‘Well… You know how it is.’

  ‘Oh, I do, Nick. Get half a dozen men together and they just can’t seem to help behaving like a bunch of schoolboys behind the bike shed.’

  ‘They don’t mean any harm.’

  ‘That would make an admirable epitaph for the entire male sex,’ she remarked dryly.

  ‘You did invite yourself here, Veronica. And you were the one who wanted to…look around.’

  ‘Well, flirting in the office is so very tacky, don’t you think?’

  Not half as tacky as standing behind a door listening to a man being given the green light in his own bedroom, Cassie thought. She had to do something, warn Nick that she was there before things went any further. But what? He wasn’t looking her way so she could do nothing to attract his attention without Veronica seeing her too. All she could think of was to scrape gently at the back of the door with her thumb nail in an attempt to attract his attention.

  ‘What was that?’ Veronica spun round.

  ‘Mice,’ Nick said, without hesitation, and Cassie knew he’d got the message. But it was the wrong answer. With a little squeal of horror Veronica flung herself into his arms. For a moment Cassie considered leaving him to wriggle out of the situation on his own. After all, it was exactly what he had planned.

  Well, not exactly. He hadn’t planned on an audience.

  Unfortunately the second the door closed she would be revealed, with her flushed cheeks and her totally uncontrollable hair and lashes that hadn’t seen mascara in weeks. Nick would see them together and compare. He wouldn’t be human if he didn’t. And even if it didn’t matter one jot she refused to compete with the elegant, exquisitely groomed Veronica Grant. Even if she was a wimp when it came to rodents. And Cassie wasn’t convinced about that. A mouse was as good an excuse as any to fling your arms about a man.

  Cassie didn’t know why Nick had kissed her in the kitchen, probably simple gratitude for making his day, but she wasn’t kidding herself; once he’d seen the pair of them in the same room he’d never kiss her again. Which was what she wanted, wasn’t it? So why was she hesitating?

  Well, there was Veronica to consider. The poor woman would be mortified if she knew she had been overheard flinging herself at a man after inveigling herself into his bedroom. Oh, right, her subconscious mocked, putting its hands on its hips, poking its nose in where it wasn’t wanted. And just what are you doing in his bedroam, Cassie Cornwell?

  Good grief, it wasn’t as if she had planned it. It was the last place she wanted to be. And in desperation she scratched at the door again, harder this time. ‘It could be rats,’ Nick improvised. ‘I’m getting in the pest people while I’m away…’ Veronica shuddered and clung even tighter, her head on his shoulder, her arms about his neck. Cassie discovered that her teeth were clenched in a totally unladylike manner and her nails, short and unpolished though they were, were digging into the palms of her hands.

  ‘I know,’ Nick said sympathetically. ‘I guess it’s just one of those things you have to put up with when you have a thatched roof. And the beetles are a nightmare. They keep falling into the bath. I don’t suppose you know what a death-watch beetle looks like, do you? I keep hearing this tapping noise…’ Cassie obligingly tapped. ‘Look, shall we go downstairs and I’ll get you a brandy or—?’ The front doorbell rang. ‘Oh, too late,’ he said, with every evidence of genuine regret. ‘That’ll be your taxi.’

  Veronica frowned. To Cassie’s intense satisfaction she discovered that the woman’s forehead creased just like ordinary folks’. ‘Taxi? I didn’t order a taxi.’

  ‘I know, but I forgot to warn you that it’s a real problem getting one out here late in the evening, so I booked one for you.’ He lied so easily, Cassie thought. She must remember that. ‘I’d drive you myself, but I’ve had a glass of wine.’ He eased her out of his arms and turned her towards the door. ‘It’s been a lovely evening, Veronica. So kind of you to risk my cooking. I’m a bit of a new hand at it…you must have guessed.’

  ‘You did seem a little harassed,’ she agreed. Cassie thought she might stamp her foot. Except that she’d probably fall over. ‘Considering you had such expert help.’

  ‘Help?’

  Veronica walked across to the bedroom door and closed it, exposing Cassie, who, although she had pinned herself as flat as she could against the wall, was still extremely noticeable. It was probably her flushed cheeks against all that pale grey paint. ‘I’m one of your biggest fans, Miss Cornwell; it was a privilege to eat something cooked personally by you. Unfortunately you’re not quite as quick on your feet as you are with a whisk.’

  ‘You saw me?’

  ‘Twice. Once when you were diving for cover in the pantry. And a few minutes ago, making a dash for the stairs.’

  There was clearly no point in denying it, so Cassie gave what she hoped was a careless shrug. ‘I’ve sprained my ankle,’ she said. ‘It slowed me down.’

  Veronica turned to Nick and tutted. ‘Shame on you, Nick, putting this poor lady to such trouble when she’s in pain.’

  A sudden suspicion jagged at Cassie. ‘Did you know I was in here all the time?’ she asked.

  Veronica gave an elegant little shrug. ‘Well, there was something holding the door closed the first time I pushed it. And not the second time. Of course,’ she went on, and smiled with genuine amusement, ‘it could have been the combined efforts of the mice, the rats and the death-watch beetles…’ She clearly didn’t think so.

  So, the siren act had been nothing but a floor show for her benefit. And to tease Nick a little. Or perhaps a lot. Just how far would she have taken it if the doorbell hadn’t rung just then? Cassie decided that she could get to like Veronica Grant, despite her height and her beanpole figure. The doorbell rang again. ‘Actually, that’s my taxi,’ Cassie intervened. ‘Nick was right. They do take an age out here. If you’ll excuse me?’

  ‘Would you mind very much if I took it?’ Veronica asked, moving towards the door. ‘Dinner was lovely, but I really think it’s time I was leaving.’ She extended her hand to Cassie. ‘I didn’t realise you still did private catering, Miss Cornwell. I was thinking of having a few colleagues round myself, just a small party but I’m hopeless in the kitchen. I’d like to think I can count on you to help me out?’ She didn’t wait for an answer but turned to Nick. ‘Well, Nick. Thank you. I can’t remember the last time I had such an entertaining evening.’ She tapped him lightly on the cheek. ‘I particularly enjoyed the death-watch beetle. Such good sound effects.’ And with a slow wink at Cassie she left the room.

  Nick, after throwing her a desperate glance, dashed after Veronica while Cassie, scarcely able to contain her laughter, collapsed on the bed in a heap and buried her face in the black duvet.

  ‘Veronica!’

  He found her in the mud room where she was putting on her shoes. She straightened. ‘Sorry about the washing-up, Nick,’ she said, with a smile as she walked out through the kitchen, the kind of smile a cat wore when he noticed that the door of the birdcage had been left open.

  ‘I’m the one who must apologise. And I am sorry. It was a stupid thing to do.’

  ‘But predictable.’ She found her handbag in the dining room and turned to him. ‘I ran a little book of my own and do you know there wasn’t a single woman in the typing pool willing to risk her money on the chance that you might be
telling the truth? Tell me, Nick, is Miss Cornwell reasonable?’

  ‘Veronica…please…Cassie didn’t want to do this; she just did it to help me out because…well, it really is too complicated to explain. But you must know that she isn’t… she doesn’t…’

  ‘I do,’ she said. ‘But I’m sure you’ll think of some way to persuade her to do the food for my party. I mean, you wouldn’t want me to tell all those women that they were right about you?’

  There was a third long peal on the bell. ‘Frankly, Veronica, as far as I’m concerned you can tell the entire company exactly what happened—write a report and stick it on the notice board if you like.’ He opened the front door for her. ‘It’s no more than I deserve for being such an idiot. But this isn’t Cassie’s fault so I’m afraid you’ll have to look for another caterer for your party.’ He handed the taxi driver a ten-pound note, opened the car door and waited for her to get in. He wasn’t being politically incorrect. He just wanted her to go so he could straighten things out with Cassie. Tell her that he never intended…at least…

  But Veronica Grant didn’t seem to be in any hurry to go. Instead she put her head on one side and regarded him for a moment. ‘You’re right, Nick, you are an idiot.’ Then she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. ‘Now hadn’t you better get back inside and tell that woman exactly how you feel about her?’

  ‘Cassie?’ He was standing in the bedroom doorway, looking at her as she struggled to sit up, wiping her eyes. ‘Why are you still here?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Nick.’ She had to fight hard to stifle another fit of the giggles. ‘Truly. That must have been…’ She waved a hand as she struggled for some word descriptive enough.

  ‘Embarrassing?’ Nick offered.

  ‘Disappointing. After you’d gone to so much trouble.’

  ‘Was it deliberate?’ Deliberate? Cassie frowned. ‘The sabotage,’ he elaborated.

  Cassie blushed furiously. ‘Of course not. Why would I want to sabotage your evening when I’ve gone to so much trouble to help?’ He didn’t bother to offer any suggestions, for which she was supremely grateful, although why she should be when he’d been doing all the kissing… ‘It was just that I couldn’t open the back door and then she decided to use the loo in the mud room and then…well, there was nowhere else to go but up…’ Nick still didn’t say anything. ‘Besides, she’d already seen me. Was she very angry?’

  ‘Amused rather than angry, I think.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault. I should never have let things get this far.’

  ‘And I shouldn’t have agreed to go along with the deception.’

  ‘You had your arm twisted.’

  Not very hard. ‘Will it be awkward for you?’

  He thought about it for a moment. ‘No, I don’t think so.’ Thus spoke a man with years of experience in twisting women around his little finger. It was a sobering thought. ‘She did try to put a little pressure on me to get you to do some catering for her—’

  ‘Oh, no—’

  ‘That’s more or less what I said. Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘I won’t,’ she declared. Then she said, ‘I’d better go and call myself another taxi.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I actually did order one for Veronica.’ He loosened his tie and sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘Relax, Cassie. Take the weight off your feet,’ he said as she began to move. ‘It’ll be at least twenty minutes.’ Taking his own advice, he turned and stretched his length beside her. He weighed a lot more than she did and the bed dipped, tipping her towards him.

  There was a moment of confusion as Cassie’s body collided with his, her soft curves moulding themselves against him, her sweet-scented hair brushing his cheek and neck. He hadn’t been thinking of this when he’d flopped down beside her. Or was he fooling himself?

  He had been eager to get rid of Veronica but he hadn’t thought much beyond that. Despite her advice, he knew he needed to think before he told Cassie anything. But as she began to struggle against the natural dip of the bed he realised this was exactly what he wanted and he wasn’t about to let her run away.

  ‘Relax, Cassie,’ he repeated, slipping his arm around her. She made another move to pull free but he caught her wrist and held her. ‘I have to talk to you.’

  ‘Talk?’ Talk! She would have laughed out loud but the warm touch of Nick’s skin against her wrist had been like a jolt of electricity, driving a power surge of longing through her body. There was no time to talk; she had to move while the defence mechanisms that she had built up over the years were still functioning.

  ‘Just talk,’ he assured her. ‘Trust me, Cassie.’

  Trust him? On a bed, a great big double bed, covered in those obvious black sheets?

  ‘Not in a million years,’ she said. But that wasn’t the problem, he wasn’t the kind of man who would jump on a girl’s bones when she was saying no. Although two setbacks in one night wouldn’t do his self-esteem much good. Not that she was worrying about that. No, she could handle Nick Jefferson. It was herself she didn’t trust.

  She’d just drunk from an unexpectedly deep well of jealousy. She hadn’t deliberately sabotaged Nick’s evening, but honesty compelled her to admit that she would have liked to—and it hadn’t been anything to do with disapproval at his cynical pretence. The realisation made her feel very vulnerable.

  She hadn’t been in the least bit tempted by any of the very nice men who had asked her out during the last few years. Any one of whom might have been a swan. Oh, no, not her. She had to go and fall in lust with a cuckoo like Nick Jefferson.

  And now his arm was around her and she was lying with her head against his shoulder and his hand was no longer grasping her wrist; instead he was stroking the pale, sensitive skin above the heel of her hand very gently with the broad, flat tip of his thumb. She had to stop him, get away. But knowing it and doing it were two very different things.

  It seemed for ever since she had been held by a man, had actually wanted to be held by a man in the sweet prelude to love. Now, lying against Nick, her cheek tucked up tight against his ribs so that she could hear his heart beating, felt like…like coming home.

  Startled by the thought, she lifted her head to look at him. His expression echoed her own bafflement as her gaze collided with his and he stopped stroking her wrist. She heard a tiny mew of disappointment—had that been her voice?—before he quite suddenly smiled and, lifting her hand to his lips, began trailing soft, warm kisses to her elbow. It was scary and yet blissful all at the same time. Her skin was goosebumps, her insides marshmallow, her body singing as it responded to his touch. Common sense was demanding that she move. Now. Before it was too late. But then what did common sense know about need, about desire, about love?

  Nick removed his arm from beneath her, pulling down a pillow and tucking it beneath her head, and Cassie lay back, her breath coming in tiny little gasps as he eased himself up onto one elbow to stare down at her, touching her cheek with the back of his fingers, stroking it thoughtfully. She shivered and licked lips dry with sudden nerves. It was years…it was madness… Her tongue bathed her lips once more and she closed her eyes.

  Nothing happened and after a moment she opened them again, feeling rather foolish. That was when he kissed her. And this time it was not the delicate tasting of her lips like that first kiss in the bookshop, nor was it the swift, hard raid of his mouth when he had kissed her in the kitchen.

  This was the real thing, hot and liquid, an adult kiss that went straight to the point without pretence, a kiss that left no holds barred, releasing a flood of desire to heat her skin and envelop her body in soft, dangerous excitement that stole away her will and compelled her to surrender. And when he stopped, drew back to look down at her, her head was spinning, her heart pounding, every part of her tingling with a heady mixture of fear and elation.

  He must have seen all that in her face because he kissed her again, lightly, tenderly, murmuring gentle
reassurance as he flipped open the top button of her shirt. Her head fell back in invitation and he placed a warm, moist kiss in the hollow of her throat, then let his mouth follow his hand as it continued its depredations of her buttons, trailing kisses down between her breasts, over her stomach, halted only by the close-fitting waistband of her jeans. She gave a little gasp as he flipped that too and let his tongue curl around her navel.

  ‘I want you, Cassie.’ Nick’s words were uncompromising He wanted her. Or more precisely, he wanted her body. No dressing it up with romantic frills. I want you. And whatever a Jefferson wanted he got. Win or die in the attempt. Was that all she was? Another challenge? Veronica had got away but what the heck? Cassie was still here, still hanging around his bedroom, waiting to be crossed off his wish list.

  The gooseflesh suddenly returned, but this time not because of trembling, shivery passion. Then, as Nick slid his hand beneath the waistband of her jeans, he said something else. ‘I think I’m falling in love with you…’

  ‘Oh, no…’

  ‘Want’ she could believe. It had the hard stamp of honesty about it. ‘Love’ was something else, an easy word to use when all else failed. And he lied so easily. Cassie, her senses momentarily drugged by his kisses, was suddenly, painfully clear-headed. Without waiting for second thoughts, more lies, she put her hands on Nick’s chest and pushed hard, rolling away off the bed, and while he was still trying to work out what had suddenly gone wrong she beat it to the door, ignoring the pain scything through her ankle and clutching her drooping jeans as she ran.

  The main stairs, she discovered, were just a few yards further on. If only she had made them earlier none of this would have happened. Veronica might have known that Nick had tried to pull the wool over her eyes, but without a mouse behind the door to spoil the fun she might have decided to forgive him.