by Kim Lawrence
Which was a good thing. Eve Curtis had even more issues than he had imagined; the man who got her would need a medal and a degree in counselling.
CHAPTER FIVE
DRACO JOINED HIS DAUGHTER, who was sitting at an empty table beside the dance floor. ‘The notice on the door was a nice touch.’
‘Is everything all right, Dad?’
‘Fine.’ He reached out a hand to ruffle her hair but Josie got to her feet
‘She’s available; I checked.’
Draco looked down, not so very far now. Over the past ten months his daughter had grown ten inches and had gone from being a sweet, slightly chubby five-feet-one twelve-year-old to a slender, leggy thirteen-year-old; still sweet but to his parental eye worryingly mature, with the sort of coltish good looks that had already drawn two offers of modelling contracts.
Draco was just relieved he hadn’t had to come the heavy parent over the latter; Josie had plans for her future that did not include becoming the face of anything.
‘Who is available?’ He glanced down and noticed for the first time that his daughter was holding a cocktail. He winced and blamed Eve for taking his eye off the ball. Just what was the woman’s problem? He slung a quick glance across the room and sure enough she was still acting as if she were at a wake, not a wedding reception. God, no wonder she had been bullied; she was one of those people who simply couldn’t blend into the background, and didn’t try either. She stood out in a room of a hundred—or in this case nearer five.
He reached for the drink. ‘I don’t think so, angel.’
‘You know something, Dad, you have serious trust issues. It’s only a mocktail.’ She turned the stick in the glass of brightly coloured but non-alcoholic contents and offered with a grin, ‘Try if you don’t believe me.’
His expressive lips twisted into a moue of distaste. ‘I’ll pass.’
‘So about Eve, Dad.’
He shook his head wryly. About Eve—it was more a case of a detour around Eve. She was an emotional storm. He caught his daughter’s look and said defensively, ‘What about Eve?’
‘I said she’s available.’
His daughter was teasing, but under her smiles was she really…? He wasn’t entirely sure, but one thing he was sure of was that this was a conversation he did not want to have.
‘Is that boy a friend of yours?’ He angled a narrow look towards the young man who was making his tipsy way across the dance floor towards his daughter. Recognising the warning, the kid abruptly changed direction.
‘Good try, Dad.’
‘Try at what?’
‘At changing the subject.’
‘What subject would that be?’
Josie rolled her eyes before directing a finger across the room to where Eve was standing. ‘She’s all alone and you should go and talk to her. Or are you scared?’ his daughter, who thought she knew what buttons to press, speculated innocently. The hell of it was that five times out of ten she did and he could see those odds narrowing as she got older.
‘I know a lot of men are scared of rejection,’ she added.
Draco, who didn’t have much experience of rejection, looked amused; women’s magazines had a lot to answer for. ‘So how do you know that men are scared of rejection?’
‘Clare told me.’
His half-smile faded. ‘Since when do you call your mother Clare?’ he asked sternly.
‘She asked me to—she says now that I’m taller than her being called Mum makes her feel old.’ Seeing his expression, Josie touched her father’s arm. ‘She can’t help it, you know. Some people are just—’
‘Self-centred and selfish.’ Draco frowned, regretting the bitter words the moment they were uttered. After the divorce he had been determined not to bad-mouth his ex-wife to their daughter and always felt guilty as hell when he failed. He did not want to be the sort of parent who used their kid as a bargaining chip and asked them to take sides.
‘Relax, Dad, you’re not telling me anything that I didn’t work out for myself years ago. So are you scared…? You’ve been staring at her all day—yes, Dad, you have. She is the Eve in Eve’s Temptation. Brains and beauty. Oh, before you say it—’
‘What was I about to say?’
‘Beauty isn’t all about long legs and boobs, Father.’
Always good to know that your daughter thought you were shallow and sexist. ‘I am aware of that.’
‘And you obviously fancy her so don’t let me cramp your style. Go for it, Dad.’
‘Thank you very much.’
His daughter ignored the irony. ‘I think you need a challenge.’
‘Being your father makes every day a challenge.’
‘I’m a far better daughter than you deserve.’ She grinned and for a moment looked more like his little girl again. Draco pushed away the wave of nostalgia and reminded himself that nothing stayed the same.
‘I’m not going to contest that one.’ He touched her cheek. ‘How about you let me worry about my social life, kiddo?’
Her childish brow furrowed. ‘I just don’t want to see you lonely. I’m not going to be at home for ever, you know, and you’re not getting any younger.’
Feeling every day of his thirty-three years, Draco allowed his daughter to pull him onto the dance floor. Eve had already gone.
* * *
Having delivered the car and the keys to Draco, his driver squeezed his bulk into the passenger seat of the Mini beside his wife. Draco stepped smartly to one side as the Mini reversed, sending up a cloud of gravel, and shot off down the drive with a honk of the horn.
A smile played across the firm line of his lips as he watched the car vanish, narrowly avoiding a collision with one of the catering vans that were beginning to leave. On balance Draco was glad the husband and not the wife was his driver.
He strolled back towards the Elizabethan manor, which was impressively backlit now the light had faded by some state-of-the-art laser technology. Less high tech but equally attractive were the trees surrounding the house, which had been artistically sprinkled with white fairy lights for the occasion. There was no sign of Josie, who had said she’d be only five minutes when she had gone back to make up a doggie bag for her cousin, fifteen minutes ago.
Overhead a helicopter took off, and he sighed. It would have been easier to make the return journey by the same means of transport in which he had arrived, but the last time he had landed in the meadow at the timbered farmhouse where his ex-model sister lived the bucolic life of a hobby farmer with her banker husband, she had complained that her hens had stopped laying.
It did not seem very scientific, but then neither was naming a load of hens who all looked identical to him and assigning them individual personalities, so rather than risk getting in her bad books again, as she helped out a lot with Josie, having her to stay when he was out of town, he had decided to drop Josie off by car before driving back to London himself.
Philosophical about being kept waiting by his daughter, he had positioned himself beneath the illuminated canopy of a tall oak to wait for Josie just as a minibus filled with guests from the village set off, leaving behind three figures on the gravel.
‘Who is he calling drunk?’ the one who had written her number on his arm slurred, waving her fists at the bus.
Another sat down on the floor and took off her shoes. ‘My feet hurt. Louise, why did you have to swear at him?’
Moving back into the shadow, an expression of distaste twisting his lean, patrician features, Draco placed a supportive hand on his neck and rotated his head in an effort to relieve some of the stiffness afflicting his muscles.
The first exercise having failed, he was rolling his shoulders when a figure appeared in the illuminated doorway—not Josie, but one he recognised. It wasn’t hard as she was still wearin
g the full-length bridesmaid dress, but now it was topped by a lacy shrug that had little cap sleeves that covered her bare shoulders and was buttoned up to her throat, concealing everything else.
He watched as she glanced to right and left as though looking for someone and then began to walk towards him, only not him, she couldn’t see him, yet a man could be excused for thinking it was a sign.
A man could also be accused of spinning the situation because of the ache in his groin. He sighed and stepped deeper into the shadows. His trouble was he had gone too long without; there had only been the one night since ending things with Rachel.
There could have been more but he had not made the effort—not that there was much effort involved. He had the number on his phone of a young politician who was attractive, ambitious and discreet. She had a busy schedule, was opposed to cumbersome emotional baggage, and her Brussels base was an advantage, not a problem.
‘Here she comes. E-E-E-Evie.’ If the sniggered whisper was loud enough for him, the odds were that Evie had heard it too.
Draco slid the phone back into his pocket as he felt a sudden rush of anger. If he had paused to think, he would have been surprised by the white-hot intensity of it, but he didn’t pause. Instead he stepped out of the shadows where two strides brought him to Eve’s side. Without a word he grabbed her by the arm and jerked her towards him.
Soft and warm, she collided with him, her gentle curves fitting perfectly into the angles of his body.
She was too shocked to even cry out; her eyes flew wide, her pupils dilating dramatically as she looked up into the face of the man who held her. She let out a tiny fluttery sigh, stiffening as almost casually he slid his free hand around her waist, his fingers spreading across her ribcage from her waist to just beneath her breast, possessively, as if he had the right.
‘What are you doing?’ The question proved her brain was working… The rest of her body she wrote off, as it was clearly reacting independently. The heat that made her skin burn was seeping into her blood, so that she felt light-headed, and the sensual fog in her brain made it hard to think—so she just stopped trying.
Why bother when it was a fight she was going to lose? Because she really wanted to taste him, and it was all she could think about.
He bent in closer, brushing her cheek with his lips, holding her eyes all the time. His stare was hypnotic; she couldn’t have broken eye contact even if she’d wanted to and there was a big…no, a massive question mark over that.
‘I’m going to kiss you—are you all right with that?’
No…one word, how hard was that? That’s all you have to say, she told herself firmly.
‘Someone will see,’ she whispered instead.
‘They’re meant to, so shut up, cara, and don’t have another panic attack.’
The comment roused Eve to lethargic indignation. ‘I don’t have panic attacks. Let me go!’ It was weak and way overdue, but at least she’d made a protest—she could tell herself later I tried to stop him.
Man up, Eve, take responsibility—you want this.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, Draco?’ Saying his name had been a mistake as suddenly everything seemed intimate, more personal.
‘Relax and don’t hit me; we have an audience. I am once and for all going to lay to rest any doubts about your sexuality.’ He touched the side of her jaw. ‘Don’t look.’
She lifted her gaze to his, and the dark passion-glazed look in her eyes sent a surge of power through his veins.
‘Look where?’ She could no longer pretend she wanted to look at anything but him.
Her voice had dropped a sexy octave, the sound possessing a tactile quality that made him hungry to feel her small hands on his skin…exploring…
‘Do you have doubts about my s-sexuality?’
‘Not a one,’ he said against her lips. ‘I hate the idea of you stuttering for anyone else.’
Her stutter was the bane of her existence and he was acting as though it were a gift! ‘You don’t have to do this.’ But of course if he didn’t she might die, although to the women watching them she knew it already looked as though they were kissing. ‘I really don’t care what they think.’ But it might be nice to wipe the smiles off their smug faces.
‘Actually I do have to do this,’ he muttered raggedly.
They were both breathing so fast she could not separate the sounds or even the heartbeats. She gave a little nod, her breathless moan of anticipation barely audible.
‘I have wanted to kiss you since this morning when you threw your bra at me.’
His eyelashes cast shadows along the crest of his cheekbones and through her half-closed eyes they looked like solid blocks of colour. ‘That feels like years ago…’ The words were soft sibilant sighs, hardly audible above her tortured shallow breaths. ‘Well…?’
‘Well what?’
‘Are you going to find out…how it feels to—?’
The rest of her words were lost in the warmth of his mouth. He explored her mouth, his tongue probing and his lips moving against hers with sensuous expertise. The pressure of the kiss bent her backwards against his supporting arm and she straightened up again as his head lifted like a sapling when the wind died.
He was still close and breathing hard; they both were. Through the mesh of her lashes she could see the fine texture of his olive-toned skin, the darkened stubble thicker now on the surface of his jaw and lower face, the gold tips on the end of his thick jet-black eyelashes. A shiver of sensation rippled through her body, then another and another…
‘So was that your good deed for the day?’ she murmured.
Draco, who had really fought his baser instincts to keep the kiss under control, just nodded. It had been a mistake to kiss her; all it had done was make him realise what he was missing and that he wanted her more than ever.
‘Yeah, and now that our first kiss is out of the way…’ He leaned in again, the gleam in his dark eyes warning her of his intent.
This time the kiss was very different. With considerably less finesse, less control, the wildness scared Eve on one level and on another excited her unbearably. She wanted everything he was doing and more. The knowledge shocked even as it made her arch into him.
She could feel his arousal rock hard against her belly as he moulded her against him, sealing their bodies at hip level. Then while he continued to plunder her mouth with a raw hunger of bruising intensity Draco’s big hands moved over her body.
She could feel the heat of his hand through the silk of her dress as it moved up and down her thigh. While his other kneaded and moulded the aching peak of one small breast.
It didn’t even cross her mind that they were standing in full view of anyone who happened by. She couldn’t think beyond the throbbing ache of need between her thighs and when it became too much to bear and as what was left of her control broke she grabbed the back of his neck with both hands and pulled his face in closer.
Eve kissed him back with an urgency, a wildness, that matched his. She clung to him like a limpet as he staggered back, struggling to keep his balance while she pulled at his clothes with greedy hands, trailing kisses across his face, down the strong column of his neck then moving back to his mouth.
When she slid her hands under his shirt he gasped, then moaned. Eve felt his ribcage lift as he sucked in a breath then held it as he grabbed both of her hands, which were sliding down the corrugated muscles of his belly, and dragged them away.
He stood back, looking down at her for a moment, at the wanton picture she made. It had been the feeling of her eager hands sliding over his damp, satiny smooth skin that had almost made his control snap, and it was only the knowledge that his daughter could be one of those interesting passers-by to witness this that made him hold back.
‘Well, I think that might have done th
e trick,’ he gasped, still fighting for control.
Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God!
The cry was in the vault of her skull. Her lips thankfully stayed closed and trembling as Eve watched him drag his shirt together, tucking it into his trousers.
‘Are you all right?’ He felt a slug of unwelcome guilt, she looked so damned fragile standing there.
She took several shaky steps backwards, only stopping when her back made contact with a tree. Lifting her chin, she directed what she hoped was a look of cold disdain, but was more than likely breathless shock and confusion, at his lean face.
He wasn’t touching her but there was a fierce intensity in his rigid attitude that made her stomach muscles vibrate.
‘I’m not going to have sex with you to prove I’m not a lesbian.’
‘Oh, I think you proved that already seeing as your friends have left. And it is always polite, cara, to wait to be asked first.’
She had no defence against the mortified rush of colour that bathed her body in a guilty glow. ‘Pity you didn’t ask first before you mauled me about like that. And you can quit with all that Italian cara stuff; it’s incredibly cheesy.’
‘To be accurate I think we should call it mutual…mauling,’ he mused, the smouldering glow in his deep-set eyes sparking as he added, ‘And to be honest that didn’t go quite the way I anticipated. Sorry—’ he glanced over his shoulder ‘—but Josie could be here any minute.’
Just when she thought she could not feel any more humiliated, she tossed her head. ‘It was only a kiss.’
His brows lifted and he barked a dry laugh. ‘If you think that was only a kiss, cara, I can’t wait to see your version of just sex!’
‘There won’t be any just sex! No sex at all!’ Turning on her heel, she could hear his soft laughter following her.
CHAPTER SIX
IF HER MUM had been around this wouldn’t be happening because Eve knew that Sarah would have taken one look at her daughter’s face and said, ‘No way are you driving, my girl—you’re in no fit state.’
