Snowbound Seduction

by Helen Brooks

  Trying to match his nonchalant attitude and ignore the mad fluttering in her stomach, she crossed her legs and simulated a calm she didn’t feel. ‘Fine, thank you. There were no problems.’

  ‘And your boss’s boss was satisfied?’

  ‘As far as I know. He hasn’t complained yet anyway.’

  ‘Good. Did I tell you how beautiful you look, by the way?’

  ‘Yes, you did. A minute or so ago.’

  When in the next moment she felt him gently nuzzle her upswept hair, Rachel sat as stiff as a board, willing herself not to shiver. She was not going to play his flirting game, no way.

  ‘Your hair smells of apples,’ he said softly.

  She was wearing an exotic perfume, the cost of which had been a week’s salary, and Zac liked the scent of her cheap supermarket brand shampoo? ‘It obviously does what it says on the bottle, then,’ she returned lightly. ‘The shampoo’s called Apple Blossom.’

  ‘Nice,’ he murmured smokily, the hand over her shoulder idly playing with one of the strands of hair she’d left loose.

  A quiet heat began to creep through her body, which was all the prompting she needed to break the intimate mood that had fallen. Shifting infinitesimally away from him on the pretext of turning to face him, she said, ‘And how did your day pan out?’

  ‘Good.’ If he noticed her manoeuvre he didn’t comment on it, but now his hand rested on the back of the seat behind her. ‘Real good. One of the guys invited me down to his weekend place in the country; he and his wife escape London most weekends apparently and take in country pursuits, horseriding and fishing and the rest of it by day and dinner parties by night. Open house apparently. He suggested I might like to bring a partner.’

  For a second or two her brain refused to function and then the thought process clicked on through the shock. Jennie had been more right that she’d known when she’d called her cousin a fast worker. ‘You’re asking me to go away with you for the weekend?’ she said weakly. After one dinner? Damn cheek.

  ‘I’m asking you to accompany me to a country house as a friend, no strings attached,’ he returned gravely. ‘Separate bedrooms and all that, of course. Everything above board.’

  Yes, it darned well would be—if she agreed to go. Which she wouldn’t, of course. ‘I’m busy this weekend.’

  ‘Doing what?’ he asked bluntly.

  Typical, she thought. Any other man would politely express regret and leave it at that, but not Zac Lawson. ‘Various things.’ She hoped she sounded nonchalant rather than jittery.

  ‘Things on a level like attending a conference on world peace or climate control, or things like washing your hair and having a manicure?’ He grinned at her, one eyebrow raised.

  Suddenly she wanted to smile but she controlled the impulse. He didn’t need any encouragement. ‘Zac, I have a life,’ she said sternly. ‘Commitments, arrangements, appointments.’

  ‘So it’s the washing-your-hair scenario?’ His voice was still relaxed, easy, but his eyes never left her face.

  She frowned. ‘I don’t have to explain what I’m doing to you.’

  He bent his head and kissed her. Nothing touched but their mouths, but at the end of it Rachel’s shaky composure had crumbled, her breathing disjointed and a warm sweet ache spread through her body. Her eyes had shut of their own volition and when she dazedly opened them after his mouth had lifted she was almost surprised to find herself in the real world, the lights flashing by outside the window of the cab making her blink.

  ‘I’m only here for a while,’ Zac said throatily, ‘and it would be nice to spend my spare time with you. Say you’ll come.’

  It was crazy, madness, and there were a million reasons to say no, to cut this ridiculous liaison right now, but breathing in the scented warmth of him and looking into the glittering tawny eyes, her mind stubbornly refused to come up with one. Her cheeks were burning and she knew she was trembling. She just hoped he didn’t know too. ‘I—I’ll think about it,’ she heard herself say as another part of her mind protested, No, no, no; wrong answer.

  ‘That’ll do for now.’ His gaze unlocked from hers and as he settled back in his seat, his arm once again loosely round her shoulders, Rachel tried to regulate her breathing.

  The nightclub was plush and the meal and wine were excellent, the small parquet dance floor full of couples dancing to the live music most of the time. After that one blistering kiss in the taxi, Zac had metamorphosed into a genial and amusing dinner companion and more than once he had made her laugh until she had cried. As the level in the bottle of wine had diminished, Rachel had found it easier to relax. Zac had put himself out to be non-threatening and it was comfortable to go with the flow. Her fragile aplomb faltered a little when he asked her to dance between the second and third courses, but the band was playing a lively number and apart from his hand on her arm to and from the dance floor, they barely touched.

  When she made a visit to the ladies cloakroom—a vision in chrome and satin with wall-to-wall full-length mirrors in the outer section—she had to acknowledge she was enjoying herself. Very much. Definitely too much, if she thought about it. But she wasn’t going to think about it, she determined, fiddling with her hair before applying more lipstick. As Zac had said, he was here for a short time and then gone. End of story. And as she had no intention of sleeping with him and had made that very clear, she had nothing to worry about.

  She returned to the table to find her pudding—a seriously delicious red wine syllabub with blueberries—waiting for her, along with a glass of honey-sweet dessert wine. Reflecting that it was so nice to be wined and dined and cosseted, she downed the wine with reckless abandon and ate every scrap of the syllabub. It was then that Zac leant forward, his golden eyes soft and glowing in the muted lighting and his firm, faintly stern mouth smiling. ‘So,’ he murmured. ‘Made a decision on the weekend yet?’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘YOU’RE doing what?’ Jennie squealed, she and Susan staring at Rachel, their breakfast forgotten. ‘Did I hear right?’

  ‘I’m going to a house party in the country with Zac for the weekend,’ Rachel repeated, knowing she’d gone as red as a beetroot. ‘It’s nothing heavy. A business colleague took pity on him, being away from home and all that, and Zac invited me along as a friend. He’s picking me up here after work and we’re driving down to somewhere near Guildford.’

  ‘Right.’ Susan recovered first. ‘Sounds great. It’s just that things seem to be moving fast and it’s not like you.’

  None of this was like her, Rachel reflected miserably. In the cold light of day she was having second thoughts, but the deed was done. She’d agreed to spend the weekend with him and that was that. ‘Things aren’t moving in the way you mean,’ she insisted quietly. ‘I told you, I’m going as a friend, that’s all.’

  ‘Right,’ Susan said again, but Jennie was less diplomatic.

  ‘A friend?’ she hooted. ‘Cinders, a girl’s friends with geek types or gay men or happily married guys, none of which Zac is. What are the sleeping arrangements?’ she added. ‘Are you sharing a room? I bet you are, aren’t you?’

  Rachel shook her head. ‘Absolutely not. I checked.’

  ‘Sure?’ Jennie surveyed her disbelievingly.

  ‘I told you.’

  ‘All right, all right.’ Jennie held up her hands before reaching for her toast. ‘But take your chastity belt just in case, that’s all I’m saying.’ She rolled her eyes expressively.

  Rachel laughed, she couldn’t help it. ‘No need for that, you know me.’

  ‘Ah, but do you know Zac? Or more to the point, do you know yourself around Zac? One thing’s for sure, Cinders, he’s not your normal run-of-the-mill male. I’ve met a few guys with that extra wow factor but Zac’s in a league of his own. Funny to think I tagged after him and my brothers as a child, isn’t it? He can remember I was a bit of a tomboy and never wanted to play with the girls.’

  Susan snorted. ‘I find nothing surprising ab
out that. I bet you flirted with the doctor who delivered you.’

  Jennie smiled happily. ‘Probably. I just like men.’

  And men liked Jennie, in spite of the way she treated them. Or was it because of it? Rachel thought with a little sigh. Whatever, she wished just a smidgen of Jennie’s disposition could brush off on her. It would make life so much easier.

  She thought the same thing at various intervals throughout the day, her stress level ratcheting up minute by minute as she considered the next forty-eight hours. How could you view something as daunting and thrilling at the same time? Be wildly excited with anticipation one moment and thinking up ways to get out of it the next?

  When she realised she’d read an item of correspondence three times and still not taken it in, she pulled herself together. Glancing at her watch, she saw she had a couple of hours left before leaving work and she needed to put her full mind to what she was doing. She’d virtually wasted the day as it was.

  When she left the brightly lit, centrally heated confines of the office building, the air was so cold it made her gasp. The weather forecast had predicted a particularly icy spell but after a poor damp summer and even damper autumn Rachel didn’t mind the cold. She breathed in long and deeply, relishing the bite of the frosty air and the way it cancelled out the smell of traffic fumes and other city odours. Everyone was bemoaning the fact that the experts were saying it was going to be a hard winter this year, but after several mild ones she felt some icy weather would kill off all the bugs and cleanse the struggling environment. And Christmas was better when it was cold somehow.

  Rachel wrinkled her nose at herself as she began to walk. How she’d feel if the worse happened and she had to trudge to work through inches of snow for weeks on end she didn’t know, but snow was so pretty, magical in its way.

  She endeavoured to keep her mind off the imminent weekend by striding out and concentrating on a brisk walk home, but her stomach was host to a legion of butterflies. Jennie’s nonchalant words that morning had struck a nerve that had bothered her more than a little. Did she know herself around Zac? She didn’t have to think about the answer. Until a few days ago she would have sworn on oath that primal, uncontrollable sexual desire was something she would never have to worry about. But she hadn’t met Zac then. And if he’d been a fairly normal, nine-to-five guy who had returned her feelings and with whom she could have envisaged some sort of future, she’d be over the moon right now. But he wasn’t, and she wasn’t.

  And she wanted her first time to mean more than just a notch on a Giles-type bedpost.

  She stopped dead as the thought hit. She wasn’t seriously thinking about sleeping with Zac, was she? Of course she wasn’t. That would be emotional suicide and she didn’t have a death wish. She’d make sure her bedroom door was locked each night.

  A desultory flake of snow drifted in the wind as she began walking again, the cold nipping at her ears and nose. She sighed deeply. Nature was conspiring against her to make this a Christmas-card-perfect weekend. She didn’t doubt that by morning every tree and bush would have a fairy-tale coating of snow, the sky would be a clear cerulean blue and the air would be crisp and perfumed with winter. Zac’s colleague’s weekend place was absolutely bound to have huge log fires, oak beams and twinkly leaded windows and be set in its own magnificent grounds. It was written in the stars, she just knew it.

  Was she destined to meet men around Christmastime who would break her heart? Again she stopped, only to continue walking on in the next moment but now giving herself a good talking-to. Giles had not broken her heart, although she’d thought he had for a week or two until reason had kicked in. And Zac couldn’t because he simply wouldn’t get the opportunity. She’d had her fingers burnt by one shallow egomaniac, and once bitten, twice shy. And who needed men anyway? Contrary to what Jennie might say, a girl could still have a fulfilling and happy life without a man in tow. Or this girl could, anyway.

  The pep talk continued once she got home and had a quick shower before getting ready. Assuming the mode of dress would be warm casual in the day for outside pursuits and smart for evening, she packed accordingly, and had just closed the lid of the case when Zac knocked on the front door.

  Her heart gave an almighty leap and then hammered away in her chest like a mad thing, and she took a few seconds to breathe deeply before walking through to the hall.

  ‘Hi.’ He’d taken a step back from the door and was standing on the pavement with his hands thrust in the pockets of his big charcoal overcoat, his black hair dusted with snow and his tawny eyes narrowed. Christmas come early.

  Rachel swallowed hard. ‘Hi.’ Help!

  ‘All packed?’ He still hadn’t smiled.

  She nodded, ridiculously flustered. ‘I’ll just get my things and turn off the lights. I won’t be a moment.’

  She felt rather than saw the big body relax and then he said softly, ‘I wondered if you’d change your mind.’

  She swallowed again. ‘I said I would come, didn’t I?’

  ‘And your word is your bond?’

  She didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes, it is.’ The house phone began to ring and she turned, saying over her shoulder, ‘Come in a minute while I answer the phone.’

  Immediately she picked up the receiver she knew it had been one of her more unwise decisions. Her mother’s voice was as cold and clipped as always: ‘Is Rachel there?’

  ‘It’s me, Mum.’ Every muscle had tightened at her mother’s tone.

  ‘Rachel? I haven’t heard from you in over a month.’

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why—when her mother phoned Lisa and Claire daily—she always had to be the one to pick up the phone, but conscious of Zac feet away, she said carefully, ‘I’ve been busy, a crisis at work.’

  ‘I see.’ The wire fairly froze over. ‘So busy you couldn’t talk to your own mother? You expect me to believe that?’

  Don’t react, keep calm. The normal mental drill when dealing with her mother was activated. ‘I’m sorry, Mum, but I can’t really talk now. I was literally walking out of the door when you phoned,’ she said woodenly. ‘I’m away for the weekend.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’ Her mother’s voice was full of disbelief. ‘Where are you off to and with whom?’

  ‘I’m going to a weekend house party at Guildford with a friend,’ she said stiffly, hating the fact she couldn’t handle her mother better. Two seconds of talking to her and she always felt guilty and wretchedly at fault.

  ‘Male or female?’ her mother sniffed frostily.

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘I asked you if your friend—’ her mother’s voice was laced with scepticism ‘—is male or female. Surely that’s simple enough to answer, girl?’

  Rachel wasn’t aware that Zac could hear both ends of the conversation—although her mother’s voice had always been as sharp and penetrating as a surgeon’s scalpel—until he whisked the receiver out of her hand. ‘Male, Mrs Ellington,’ he said smoothly, ‘and we really do have to leave. Perhaps you would like to ring back next week and have a word with Rachel? Have a good weekend and goodbye for now.’

  When he replaced the receiver she was too shocked to do more than stare at him. She couldn’t believe he’d just done that.

  He raked a hand through his damp hair, the look on his face telling her he expected her wrath to break over his head in a consuming flood. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘That was out of line and I know it. It’s just that Jennie told me a little about your mother and I didn’t like hearing you treated like that, added to which I didn’t want the weekend spoilt before it began with her upsetting you.’

  She looked at him, incredulous, mouth slightly open. It was a moment or two before she recovered sufficiently to speak coherently, and then she said, ‘That was incredibly presumptuous, whatever your reasoning. I’m not a child.’

  ‘I know it,’ he said again. ‘And I am truly sorry.’

  ‘I am more than capable of dealing with my own mother.’
>
  ‘And any other mother, I’m sure.’

  Her blue eyes assessed him warily but he stared back at her so innocently she didn’t know what to think. Giles had gone down the ingratiating route with her mother, falling over backwards to butter her up. It was only now, at this very moment, that she realised it had stuck in her craw. Nevertheless, Zac’s audacity was unbelievable. ‘I can’t believe you just did that,’ she said icily. ‘Even now I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Neither can I,’ he agreed suitably meek.

  This was the perfect excuse to throw a blue fit and ask him to leave. But she didn’t want to. She hoped her confusion, her helpless rush of desire and bemusement and a hundred and one other emotions she couldn’t have put a name to if she’d tried weren’t obvious to him. She felt she was walking on the edge of a precipice every moment she was with him, so why was she torturing herself like this for someone who couldn’t be more than a fleeting shadow in her life? It didn’t make sense. Nothing did.

  And then he drew her into his arms, kissing her long and deeply, and she knew why.

  When he released her she was flushed, her hair slightly tousled and her breathing erratic. Feeling seventeen rather than a mature twenty-seven, she smiled shakily. ‘Is that your answer to everything? Kiss the girl?’

  ‘Not everything,’ he murmured. ‘And not every girl.’

  She brushed her hair from her hot cheeks, feeling hopelessly inadequate to deal with him. ‘I’ll get my things.’

  Zac nodded, and once she brought her case through from the bedroom he took it from her, placing it at his feet before helping her on with her coat. She steeled herself not to shiver at his touch but it was hard. When he’d kissed her his chin had been nice and smooth, he’d obviously shaved in the last hour or so before coming to pick her up. And the now familiar scent of the aftershave he favoured caused a frisson of desire to snake down her nerve-endings. There was something overwhelmingly sexy in knowing he had shaved for her.