Fiona Harper

by Saying Yes to the Millionaire [HR-4031, MNR-129, A Bride for All Seasons 02] (lit)

  Abruptly, he ruffled her hair in a non-melting-inside kind of way. It was a gesture more akin to the Chinese burns he’d inflicted on her when they’d been children. The warm, fizzy feeling that had been growing inside her packed its bags and left.

  ‘I’ve got it! Wait here.’

  Before she could answer, he raced off across the square in the direction of one of the other teams. She squinted in the low-slanting morning sun. Was it the twin brothers he was talking to? Moments later, they were all racing back to where she was standing near the portico of St Paul’s Church.

  ‘How much money have you got?’ Josh said to them all as they drew to a halt. They all fumbled around in their pockets and pulled out a few notes and some change. Josh took some from the twins and from Fern, then sprinted off across the square again.

  What on earth was he doing? As she followed his path, she realised he was heading straight for a flower stall. Please, please, let him not be planning to juggle carnations! It would be too humiliating.

  She exchanged nervous smiles with the twins, whose names she had been told yesterday, but had forgotten. Her feet itched and she jigged from one to the other while she waited to see what Josh was going to do. When the florist picked up a whole armful of carnations, her heart sank. But then, as she stood gaping, Josh handed the florist the money, picked up the big black bucket the flowers had been sitting in and tipped all the water out over the cobblestones. When he’d repeated the process a couple more times, he returned with four buckets of assorted sizes. By this time the twins were grinning.

  ‘I reckon,’ Josh said as he handed the twins the buckets, ‘that if we join forces on this one, we’ll all benefit.’

  The twins looked at each other and nodded.

  ‘Fern? Is that okay with you?’

  Everyone looked at her. She swallowed. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you want to warm up a bit, boys?’

  The boys immediately dumped the buckets upside down on the floor and used their backpacks as makeshift stools. They began thumping the bases of the buckets and repositioning them every few seconds until they were happy with the sounds they were making.

  Josh whispered in her ear, ‘I got chatting to Sam and Rob after dinner last night and the conversation turned to music. They play in a band. Just a hobby, but last night Rob was messing around with the cups and glasses, playing them with his fork and spoon, and he was pretty good. Then when you said something about the “other teams” it gave me an idea.’

  Fern raised an eyebrow. ‘Am I going to like this idea?’

  ‘It has to be better than singing a cappella. Listen.’

  The twins started tapping on the bases of the upturned buckets, using them as bongos. Sam set up a steady rhythm, then Rob began to do some more fancy syncopated arrangements over the top. Actually, it sounded pretty good. Kind of Cuban. Her feet started moving of their own accord, her hips swaying. She began to smile.

  She turned to find Josh staring at her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think I’ve just had an even better idea than singing.’

  He had a look in his eyes that made her feel distinctly giddy. He moved towards her and she backed away, but he kept on coming. Sometimes, when Josh really wanted something, he got very serious and his normal easygoing manner vanished. It was exactly that masculine intensity that had first made her heart flutter for him. As it was, her pulse was now skipping along way too fast to match the twins’ laid-back Latin percussion.

  His fingers closed around hers and he held on to them firmly. She stared back at him, too full of all sorts of tingly feelings to get any words out. He looked as if he wanted to eat her whole.

  Was he going to kiss her now? Right here in the middle of Covent Garden?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FERN knew she ought to back away, but part of her still went gooey at the thought. And, unfortunately, that part seemed to have control of her legs at this particular moment. One of Josh’s hands slid along her arm until it reached her elbow and the fingers of his other hand interlaced with hers. Just as she was about to sway towards him, lips at the ready, he started to move, his feet stepping in a backwards-and-forwards pattern she recognised.

  Without her asking them to, her legs joined in. Where he led, she followed. She glanced down at their feet, mirror images of each other, then back up at him. He grinned.

  ‘We’re salsa dancing,’ she said in an incredulous voice.

  ‘Sure looks like it,’ he replied as he smoothly let her out of the basic back-and-forwards step she’d learned only a few days before into a side-step.

  ‘I can’t salsa! Not properly.’

  He raised an eyebrow, then changed his arm positions to lead her across the front of his body so they switched places, all the time keeping up the same rhythm with his feet. ‘Um, I hate to tell you this, Fern, but I think you already are.’

  Well, yes, she knew a few of the basic steps, but it was hardly more than that. Even though the music was conducive to swaying and wiggling, her legs were stiff and awkward. She was terrified that she’d fall out of rhythm and then—even worse—fall over altogether.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ she whispered.

  Josh just shrugged and spun her out to one side, only to bring her back again. ‘You were doing fine just a moment ago when Rob and Sam started playing.’

  She frowned. ‘That was different. I…’

  ‘Didn’t think you were being watched? What does it matter?’

  It mattered because she was bound to make a fool of herself, in front of the handful of people who had stopped strolling and were now looking in their direction and, more importantly, in front of him. She gaped and her mouth worked while she tried to find a good excuse. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him the truth.

  He had that sexy, serious look in his eyes again. The half dozen words she had queuing up in her mind for the start of her next sentence all switched places. His voice was low and sensual when he said, ‘Close your eyes.’

  She did as she was told, not able to handle being looked at like that for another second anyway. It was doing strange things to her nervous system. Breathing no longer seemed to be automatic.

  Even more than before, she was reliant on him to guide her. He kept the steps basic, alternating between the forward-and-backward step and the side-to-side combinations she knew.

  ‘When did you learn to salsa, Josh Adams?’

  His low chuckle reverberated right through her. ‘You can’t visit South America as often as I have without picking up some of this stuff.’

  She held her breath suddenly as, with a lean of his body and a flick of his wrist, he propelled her into an underarm turn. Her eyes popped open as she came to rest back in his arms, closer than before. Oh, boy, she needed more oxygen. Badly. The echoes of his laughter died away, leaving only a thick silence behind. They were looking deep into each other’s eyes now, joined by more than hands and arms, by more than quick swaying steps that kept them locked in rhythm with each other. Her muscles relaxed and she melted into the movements, finding she was no longer just being led and positioned by him, but that she was letting the music seep into her bones.

  Now they were working together, Josh tried more complicated moves and Fern found herself flowing through them as easily as if she’d been doing it for years. As long as she relaxed, kept the right rhythm going with her feet, it all seemed to come together.

  Pretty soon she was smiling back at him, adding a few little flicks of her feet, a few extra wiggles of her hips, just like she’d seen the more advanced dancers do at her class.

  Vaguely, somewhere in the distance, she heard a ripple of applause, the chink of coins dropping into an empty plastic bucket, but she kept her eyes locked on Josh’s.

  Braver, she tried something she’d seen Lisette do when they’d been out dancing. She raised her arms above her head, then, after a few beats, ran her fingers through her hair, pulling the band out of her ragged ponytail as she did so, then sm
oothed her hands down the sides of her torso, ending somewhere near her hips. Josh made a spluttering noise and she looked sharply at him.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  He swallowed and, just for a split second, lost his footing. ‘Nothing. Nothing at all. In fact, I’d say you were a real natural at this.’

  She smiled back at him, the momentary tension drifting away. ‘I’m not doing too bad, am I? Who would have known?’

  Josh coughed and looked at the ground. ‘Yeah,’ he muttered. ‘Who would?’

  The twins changed the tempo slightly, speeding up, and both Fern and Josh had to concentrate for a few bars. The smiles on their faces vanished and her breathing became rapid, her heart rate steady but pulsing in her veins.

  Once they’d adjusted to the new speed, they broke out of the basic steps again. Josh was turning her almost constantly now and, amazingly, she was keeping up. He was right. When she just let it all flow through her she ended up going the right way, doing the right thing, without even thinking about it.

  ‘Nearly there,’ she heard one of the twins call between thumps on the buckets.

  Josh’s eyes simmered. ‘Time for the finale,’ he whispered and flicked her this way and that. Then, just as she thought she’d experienced everything in his repertoire, he sprang a new move on her.

  As they rocked in a basic step, backwards and forwards, he let both his hands slide down her arms so he was holding her hands. Then he moved her arms up and over and his fingertips brushed along the length of her arms and ended up on the back of her shoulders. Her hands came naturally to rest on his chest.

  With his hands splayed on her shoulder blades, he swung her quickly side to side, then dipped her back, holding her so her legs were together and her back was arched right over. She gasped.

  He pulled her up straight, so close they were almost glued together. Her blood began to simmer. There was only a hair’s breadth between their bodies and, as their eyes met, their hips began to sway in unison. She fought the urge to close her eyes and sigh as Josh’s hands ran down her back and cupped her bottom.

  Seamlessly, he moved into the next step and his hands returned to the small of her waist before he dipped her back again, this time in a long, slow circular motion. She gave way to it completely, savouring the slow sexiness of it, feeling the play of her back muscles beneath his hands as he moved and supported her all at once.

  This time, when they returned to standing, she made sure that she held on to his back to steady herself and, when he pulled her completely upright, one of her hands squeezed a taut buttock in reply. Josh’s eyes widened.

  ‘Tit for tat,’ she whispered, amazed at her own boldness. A smile crept across his lips—a hungry male smile—and something inside her soared at the knowledge that it was sweet, innocent Fern who had put it there.

  As the sights and sounds around them came back into focus, she realised that people were clapping and whistling. The twins were scooping coins out of the bucket—lots of coins.

  The treasure hunt. The challenge. For a few minutes she’d forgotten all about them.

  A sudden rush of cold hit her and travelled down to the pit of her stomach. She was standing in the middle of Covent Garden with a cheeky smile on her face and one hand on Josh’s bottom. And, worse than that, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to let go. What on earth did she think she was doing?

  So much for re-erecting the defensive shield! What was she going to do now?

  As gently as she could, she lifted her fingers away from the now-warm denim covering his backside and retreated. He cocked his head to one side and raised his eyebrows, still smiling.

  ‘Looks like we’ve got enough,’ she said, letting the words tumble out on a rushing breath. ‘Time to move on.’

  In the narrow tile-lined tunnel that ran under the River Thames, Josh could see another two teams in front of them. He nodded at Fern and they speeded up a little. For someone who was petite and slender, she was surprisingly fit.

  Their footsteps echoed, bouncing off the smooth walls and making a slapping sound as each foot met with the concrete floor. Feeling the lactic acid burning in his muscles was good. It stole his attention away from other things he didn’t want to think about—almost as effective as a cold shower.

  He’d never even known of the existence of this Victorian pedestrian tunnel at Greenwich, the only clue to its presence two strange dome-like buildings on opposite sides of the river. Once upon a time the lifts had worked. Of course, for the Secret London Treasure Hunt that would have been too easy. If there were the same number on the other side, they faced a wide spiral staircase of more than three hundred steps when they reached the end of the tunnel. He glanced at his partner. He hoped she could make it; they’d been running all morning since they’d got the second clue and left Covent Garden.

  They slowed down as they reached the bottom of the stairs and took a few deep breaths, hands on knees, before tackling them.

  ‘You okay?’ he asked.

  She nodded. Her face was pink and blotchy and she looked totally adorable.

  He set off up the stairs first before she had a chance to get in front of him. Hardly the gentlemanly thing to do, he knew, but the other option was three hundred steps at eye level with Fern’s bottom, which could provoke ungentlemanly behaviour of an entirely different sort—especially after the recent salsa fiasco. He got a sudden burst of speed just thinking about it.

  Rats! The whole wear-himself-out-so-he-wouldn’t-think-about-her-like-that thing just wasn’t working.

  He’d thought he’d been past all of that, had got all the ‘Fern is hot’ feelings out of his system. After all, it had only been a rush of teenage hormones. Only, twelve years on, he seemed to be having a relapse.

  When he’d returned from university, during his sporadic visits home, neither of them had ever mentioned the kiss, or even the birthday party it had taken place at. By tacit agreement they’d just decided to sweep it all under the carpet and forget about it. Ryan would have been very proud of him.

  For a whole term after he’d started university, he’d paid not the slightest attention to the girls there, even though they’d been away from home for the first time and ready to prove they were all grown up. It had been Fern’s fault. He hadn’t been able to get that kiss out of his mind.

  But, over the years, they’d managed to put it behind them, had managed to build a friendship. And he was still keeping his promise. He was still looking out for her—when he was in the country, of course.

  He lost his footing on the stairs and Fern crashed into the back of him. He could feel her pressed against his lower back and her hands, instinctively raised to brace herself, met with his rear end. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and made his voice as light and jokey as he could manage.

  ‘Hey, lady, don’t touch what you can’t afford. I’ve had to warn you about that once already today.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled behind him.

  The safest thing to do was just start moving again, no matter how hard his quadriceps were screaming.

  When they finally emerged from the squat dome on the south side of the river, they grinned at each other. Their destination was right in front of them—the Cutty Sark, a beautiful old tea clipper and local tourist attraction.

  ‘Have you got the clue?’ He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm. Fern reached in the front pocket of her backpack and pulled out the carefully folded clue.

  ‘It says we’ve got to find “the fearless maiden with blue eyes and blonde flowing tresses”.’

  He looked straight at her. Another one?

  She was reading further down the clue. ‘It says she was “the brave spirit whose true heart kept men safe”. What does that mean?’

  Josh shook his head. He didn’t know the answer to the question, but he did it mainly to shake the images of a certain brave, true-hearted woman out of his head. Lust he could handle—well, eventually he’d get a grip on himself—but these thou
ghts were something altogether more scary.

  ‘I suppose we just go inside and find out.’

  They explored the top deck, climbing in and out of the thick woven ropes and rigging, then decided to hunt below. Two decks down, they found what they were looking for: a whole room full of figureheads, all different shapes and designs, some human, some not.

  Fern stood in the middle of the deck, spun on the spot and let out a breathy whistle. ‘These are exquisite! I mean, look at the craftsmanship.’

  Josh did look. But not at the lumps of wood. He couldn’t look at anything but Fern as her eyes shone and her quick mind ticked away. She stopped spinning.

  ‘What are you smiling at? Do I have dust on my face or something?’ She rubbed her nose with the heel of her hand in a gesture that reminded him of a six-year-old with pigtails. ‘Come on. This “true-hearted woman” has to be in here somewhere.’ She turned and ran to the other end of the deck and started inspecting each carving in turn.