At His Convenience Bundle

by Penny Jordan

  ‘And you think she’ll agree to the cautious approach…?’

  Rafe watched as Tess’s delicate heart-shaped little face screwed up into a mask of iron determination.

  ‘She’ll agree, all right,’ she intoned grimly. Stern-faced, she picked up the bundle of clothes she’d selected en masse from the bed. ‘I take it you can find your own way out.’ Distractions she didn’t need and Rafe could now be safely categorised under that heading.

  ‘Shower…?’

  Tess gave a snort of exasperation. It was a mistake to try the pathetic Spaniel look when you resembled more closely a sleekly muscled Doberman.

  ‘I suppose so,’ she conceded ungraciously. Halfway to the door she paused and turned back. ‘I don’t need to say that I’d prefer it if you didn’t mention to everyone just yet about…about what I said…Ben not being mine. I got a bit silly…’ Not to mention deeply embarrassing. She winced inwardly as she recalled sobbing pathetically on his chest.

  Another memory attached itself to the coat-tails of this recollection: the masculine scent of warm skin was so real it unnerved her totally. ‘T-To be honest, Chloe’s phone call out of the blue…it was all a bit of a sh-shock,’ she stammered.

  A nerve in Rafe’s lean jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. So much for supposed friendship! This little display of trust was just charming!

  ‘You mean I can’t run around the village with my loudspeaker…?’ Rafe knew a lot of people, but he was pretty selective about the people he called friends, he always had been, and he trusted that select band implicitly. It didn’t seem too much to expect them to return that trust.

  Tess sighed. Perhaps he did have a right to act a bit miffed—she probably could have made her request a bit more tactfully. But the fact was she had more to worry about just now than Rafe’s feelings.

  ‘All right, all right…there’s no need to get all huffy, I was just checking.’

  ‘It may have escaped your notice, but you’re not the only one that feels a little emotionally exposed after last night. Perhaps I should be asking you to sign the Official Secret Act, too.’

  ‘Oh, I forgot about that,’ she lied fluently. She wasn’t quite sure why the idea of being the recipient of further confidences concerning Rafe’s love life should make her want to run and hide. It had been easy to mock and be mildly contemptuous, even laugh in her more tolerant moments, about Rafe’s numerous, shallow affairs. She couldn’t see the funny side for some reason of Rafe in love, Rafe talking marriage…

  ‘You make it sound so easy.’ The flicker of torment in his dark eyes made her look quickly away. ‘Forgetting…’

  Tess decided at that moment she definitely didn’t want to know anything more about the woman who had discovered Rafe’s heart only to comprehensively break it.

  ‘I didn’t mean to be insensitive, but…’ An intriguing thought occurred to her and she made a tentative effort to explore the idea further. ‘Didn’t you want to be alone last night? Is that why you didn’t leave?’

  ‘Regressing to behaviour patterns laid down in childhood?’ He rubbed a hand thoughtfully over the short dark growth over his jaw. Tess had never been kissed by a man who was other than smoothly shaven; she found herself idly wondering…‘Sanctuary? I wondered about that myself…’

  Tess, her cheeks a little flushed, brought her own line of wondering to an abrupt halt.

  ‘Wouldn’t it be something if I headed for your bed every time I needed a bit of TLC?’ he mused, lifting his dark eyes to her face thoughtfully.

  The thud of her heart sounded odd and echoey in her ears. ‘Very funny!’ she responded hoarsely.

  ‘Yeah, hilarious,’ he confirmed without a trace of humour.

  When Rafe emerged from his shower Tess was in the kitchen having produced breakfast for Ben, who as usual was in no hurry to finish it. There was as much porridge on the floor as was in his stomach. She had stopped trying to tempt the baby to another mouthful and had returned to her frenzied task of refilling the cupboards when Rafe strolled in.

  ‘Morning, mate.’ Rafe, who could deal with the wiliest of politicians, felt distinctly unsure of how you were meant to speak to a one-year-old. He winked at the solemn-faced youngster.

  Ben responded with a grin that suggested he wasn’t quite as angelic as he looked. ‘Seed man!’ he cried, poking his chubby finger in Rafe’s direction.

  ‘Saw, Ben,’ Tess responded automatically. At least Ben’s limited vocabulary meant she was spared any embarrassing elaboration on this theme.

  ‘Seed,’ the toddler responded immediately. Eyes bright, he waited expectantly for Tess to praise him.

  ‘Well done, darling.’ When she looked away she saw Rafe was watching her with a curiously intense expression on his lean hungry features, which faded as he turned to the baby.

  ‘I don’t expect you remember me, but my name’s Rafe. Or should that be Uncle Rafe?’ he enquired, turning his attention once more to Tess. ‘Can he talk?’

  ‘After a fashion, but you might need the aid of an interpreter,’ she admitted. ‘You and Ben can decide between you what he calls you. My money’s on complete nuisance…’ she added softly.

  ‘I heard that.’

  ‘You were meant to.’ She reached up on tiptoe to replace a casserole dish in a high cupboard.

  Rafe found himself unexpectedly noticing the way stretching pulled her already neat, high behind extremely taut. Despite the fact that her clothes could have been designed specifically to conceal the fact, it was hard to miss the fact she had a good—no, better than good body. Dark brows almost meeting above the bridge of his masterful nose, Rafe reached over her head and took the item from her extended hand.

  ‘Do you know that most accidents occur in the home?’

  ‘Don’t take that hectoring, lecturing tone with me!’ Angrily Tess spun around to find he was almost close enough to fall over. Not content with wondering whether he’d catch her if she did fall, her wayward brain began to theorise about how it might feel.

  A tiny sound of denial slipped past her frozen vocal chords. She was close to tipping over into outright panic as, arms extended protectively in front of her, she backed hastily up until the small of her back made contact with the wooden worktop.

  The atmosphere was suddenly so charged with sexual tension that she could hardly breathe. He feels it too, she thought, staring in a bemused fashion into his dark, dilated eyes.

  ‘Brekkie!’ a small voice piped up severely.

  The adults, both recalling with a guilty start that they weren’t alone, looked in the direction of the small speaker. Simultaneously they both decided to ignore what had just happened.

  ‘Good idea, Ben. Is this seat taken?’ Rafe asked, noisily dragging out a kitchen chair with a stagey flourish and, straddling it, he rested his hands lightly on the back.

  ‘Is Tess always so grumpy in the morning?’ Now wouldn’t you like to know? a sly voice in his head drawled knowingly.

  With a confused frown, Tess watched his smile fade.

  ‘Powige,’ the child announced mournfully, dipping his hand into the goo left in his dish.

  ‘He likes to feed himself.’

  ‘He looks as if he likes to bathe in the stuff. Nasty porridge. Mush…ugh!’ Rafe’s theatrical shudder drew a giggle from the child.

  Tess could see the beginnings of male conspiracy here. ‘Last week it was his favourite.’

  ‘Mush, mush, mush, mush!’ Ben, his grubby face animated, shrieked loudly.

  ‘All right, I get the message.’ Tess sighed. She knew from experience that was going to be the favourite word for the foreseeable future. It could be worse, she reflected philosophically, and it had been when Ben had overheard the colourful expletives employed by the electrician who had fixed their security light. The entire mother and baby group now thought she swore like a trooper at home.

  Mind you, that notoriety would be nothing compared with what was heading her way once the true identity of Ben’s mother
was public knowledge! Some people already knew, of course: their GP, the kindergarten head at the school she’d already put Ben’s name down for.

  ‘I like bacon and eggs.’

  ‘No…no!’ Ben bounced in his seat as he enthusiastically concurred.

  ‘No means yes,’ she felt obliged to explain. ‘Actually, no means a lot of other things too. Mostly finding out what he wants is a matter of elimination.’

  ‘In this case I feel sure that it means he wants bacon and eggs.’

  ‘He won’t eat it,’ she predicted.

  ‘I will.’

  ‘You,’ she announced in exasperation, ‘are nothing but a troublemaker! Anyhow, I haven’t got any,’ she lied.

  ‘Ah…shopping day.’

  As if he knew about such things!

  ‘And I’m sure you’re a whiz with the supermarket trolley.’ She permitted herself a loud snort packed with scornful scepticism.

  ‘I was merely about to mention that you might like to add razor blades to that shopping list,’ Rafe announced, ignoring her sarcastic interjection. ‘Do you know that dinky little razor of yours is blunt?’

  Bubbling with indignation, Tess watched him rub a hand over the intact dark stubble that adorned his square chin.

  ‘It wasn’t…and the reason it’s dinky is because it wasn’t designed to remove a dirty great beard.’

  Ignoring the fact the dark growth gave him a dangerous, dissipated but not unattractive air—in fact some women might actually go for that moody menace look in a big way. Some women—the ones lost to all sense of decency—might even wonder what that dark growth would feel like when applied to sensitive areas…a breast, for example…even…?

  Two bright spots of guilty colour apeared on the smooth curve of her cheeks. She glared with exaggerated distaste at the shadow on his jawline.

  ‘I could have told you that if you had bothered to ask before you went poking around in my private things.’

  ‘You want to watch this possessive streak…it’s not attractive. I mention this only to be helpful.’

  ‘In this mood,’ she told him frankly, ‘you’re about as helpful as a hole in the head!’

  ‘You’re cranky because you’re busy, stressed and ever so slightly hung-over.’

  ‘And whose fault is that? I don’t drink alone…’ Which meant, as she rarely had adult company, she didn’t drink full stop, which no doubt explained her rapid descent into her inconveniently garrulous state of the previous night…

  ‘Admirable, I’m sure. There are some things I never do alone either.’

  Nothing, she decided, could be more deceptive than the open, innocent look on his face. She thought it wise to rise above responding to the wicked earthy innuendo.

  ‘But drinking,’ he confessed cheerfully, ‘is not one of them. I’ll make us some breakfast, shall I?’

  ‘I’m not hungry and I don’t recall offering you any breakfast.’ Her cheeks refused to cool as quickly as she’d like.

  ‘I assumed that was a mere oversight.’

  ‘No, a rude and calculated rejection.’ Which he seemed to be coping with irritatingly well.

  ‘You ought to eat.’

  He subjected her small person to a critical examination. His expression suggested he hadn’t found much to approve of. ‘You’re too thin.’

  ‘Luckily for me beauty is in the eye of the beholder!’ Wanted, one short-sighted, sensitive hunk. A tall order by any standards!

  ‘This could eventually work in your favour. I mean, a lot of guys could be put off by the notion of taking on a readymade family.’

  ‘I suppose you would know all about being shallow and selfish. Actually, I can do without men like that!’ she told him with confident contempt. ‘In fact, I can do without men full stop.’

  With a mouth like that he somehow doubted it. Rafe had a sudden strong impulse to test his theory about generously passionate lips. You can’t blame it on the booze now, mate!

  ‘Is that what put your vet off?’

  When it came to insensitivity, Rafe was right up there with the all-time greats.

  ‘For the last time, he wasn’t my vet, and, no, actually, it was something quite different.’ He hadn’t believed her when she’d said she really didn’t want to marry him so she’d had to resort to the truth—he hadn’t been able to get away fast enough then.

  ‘Found out about your snoring, did he…?’

  Something flickered in her eyes before her glance slid unobtrusively away from his. A speculative frown tugged gently at the taut, unlined skin across his broad brow.

  How would Rafe react if she told him? Embarrassed, pitying…? Taking a deep breath, Tess lifted her chin and, pushing aside the intrusive shaft of self-pity, pinned a stoical expression on her face. Major shock, hold the front page…life isn’t fair! She’d had plenty of time to get used to the idea, but sometimes, as now, it still caught her on the raw.

  ‘I don’t snore.’

  One dark brow shot up. ‘Want to bet?’ he drawled. From where he was sitting he opened the fridge door with the toe of his shoe. ‘Well, what do you know?’ he drawled, turning a cheerful face to Ben. ‘Bacon and, unless my eyes deceive me, eggs too. Free range, I hope…’ He turned to Ben. ‘Tess must have forgotten.’

  ‘The only thing I’d forgotten,’ she announced, gaining very little satisfaction from viciously slamming a cupboard door, ‘is how infuriating and thick-skinned you are!’

  ‘But you miss me when I’m not around…right…?’

  She didn’t pause to think about the possible consequences of replying honestly. ‘Weird as it might seem,’ she agreed tartly, ‘I do.’

  Rafe turned to look at her in time to see a shocked expression appear on her face. He found he could readily identify with the emotion.

  ‘Which just goes to show how starved for adult company I must be.’ Her attempt at making a joke of it didn’t quite come off. I always did have lousy timing, she reflected grimly…

  ‘I miss you too, Tess.’ Wary green eyes clashed and locked with thoughtful brown.

  ‘You miss someone to boss around,’ she accused gruffly when the silence started to get hard to ignore.

  ‘There aren’t many people in the world you can be yourself with, warts and all.’

  ‘You mean you’ve got a licence to be unconscionably rude and generally awful with me!’

  ‘Here’s to bad manners!’ Rafe agreed, appropriating Ben’s juice beaker to toast her with.

  Tess tried to look severe, she tried not to smile back, but his good humour was contagious.

  Rafe and Ben were halfway through the meal she’d grudgingly prepared—Rafe had even gone so far as to feed Ben several spoonfuls of his mushed-up version—when Tess saw the big shiny car draw up. ‘Oh, no!’ she wailed, throwing her hands up. ‘They’re here! It’s too early.’ Frankly, ten years hence would still be too early. ‘What’ll I do…?’

  Rafe watched her agitated routine with a bland expression and a quizzically raised brow. ‘Slam the door in their faces…?’

  ‘If you can’t say something constructive,’ she hissed, rounding on him, ‘don’t say anything! The place looks a mess.’

  Rafe didn’t see the relevance of this inaccurate comment, but he knew women seemed to set great store by a dust-free environment. ‘It doesn’t, but you do,’ he announced with casual brutality.

  Tess caught her breath. There was such a thing as stretching friendship too far and Rafe was getting perilously close!

  ‘Here, let me.’ She eyed him suspiciously as he levered his rangy athletic frame up from the chair. ‘For starters, you can take this thing off.’ Tess was startled into immobility as he calmly began to unbutton her long baggy cardigan. He slid it off her shoulders with a flourish.

  He did it very slickly, but then he had probably had a lot of experience removing items of female clothing…Perhaps she should have forced herself to eat breakfast; she did feel distinctly queasy.

  ‘Well, what did you
expect?’ she snapped tartly as he continued to look with obvious discontent at the simple slit-necked black tee shirt she wore underneath. She failed completely to appreciate how well it displayed her taut, firm figure and neat waist. ‘Besides, I fail to see what difference the way I look makes to anything.’

  ‘Don’t be naive, Tess.’ Rafe lifted a distracted hand and, with a brooding expression, rubbed it back and forth over his unshaven chin. ‘Would you have turned up in your scruffy jeans for a big meeting when you were working in the City? No, you wanted to make the right impression and feel in control. Now is no different. I’m not saying clothes maketh the woman, but I am saying—and so will you, if you’re strictly honest—that the right outfit doesn’t do any harm. People like Chloe judge folk by the way they dress, the car they drive…’

  ‘I don’t drive any more.’

  ‘I haven’t forgotten that.’

  Maybe his thoughtful expression wasn’t significant. Maybe it was her guilty conscience making her see things that weren’t there.

  ‘If you look good you’ll be sending a subliminal message to Chloe.’

  ‘Saying what?’

  ‘I’m in control…you can’t push me around.’

  ‘I can’t make breakfast wearing stilettos and a sharp suit. I dress like every other mum…’ she explained obstinately.

  Rafe saw the precise moment when the meaning of what she’d said hit her. For a split second the depth of her anguish was there for him to see. He’d like to throttle Chloe and her celebrity boyfriend!

  Biting viciously down on her trembling lower lip, Tess steeled herself to meet the pity in his eyes. ‘Only, of course, I’m not.’ She spoke with quiet composure.

  ‘Tess…’ Frustration was building steadily inside him. Why the hell didn’t she let him hug her instead of sprouting as many prickles as a porcupine?