by Maggie Cox
‘I know she misses me when I’m away…as I miss her. Well, Tom, this is Maya Hayward and, as I explained to Lottie on the phone yesterday, she’ll be staying at the house and working with me over the next few weeks. Is her room ready?’
‘Lottie’s got it all in hand, Mr Walker. But first I think she’s getting a cup of tea ready for you both in the kitchen.’
‘Then we’ll go and find her. Will you bring our bags in? Thanks, Tom.’
The interior of the house was full of original features and beautiful artefacts, but instead of the slightly dissipated, neglected air that the various homes of her childhood had held there was a sense of grace, order and calm that had the unexpected effect of issuing a sense of calm inside Maya too.
The kitchen was large and high-ceilinged, and just as ordered as the rest of the house with its oak furniture, neat rows of blue and white porcelain on the imposing dresser and every surface gleaming with obvious care and attention. The elderly woman wearing a cheerful floral apron, who was clearly responsible for its upkeep, made no bones about displaying her pleasure at welcoming her handsome employer home again.
‘There you are—and about time an’ all, if you don’t mind me saying so! You’ve been away so long I thought that all that fame and adulation in London must have gone to your head…made you forget where you really belong!’ she exclaimed, and without further ado opened her arms to embrace Blaise.
‘Never!’ He grinned, hugging her ample frame hard. And if Maya was slightly shocked at the familiar, clearly fond way the housekeeper addressed him, she was also a little envious. To have someone waiting for you at the end of your travels to welcome you home—as if they’d been counting the days until your return—was something she had never experienced.
As Blaise stepped away from the older woman, she sensed the backs of her eyelids prickle with threatened tears. Get a grip, Maya! What do you think you’re doing? He’s hired you to come and do a job for him, and he’ll start to think you’re some kind of emotional wreck if you carry on like this! The familiar critic in her head that was always there to bring her back down to earth mercilessly laid into her.
‘And you must be Miss Hayward?’ Lottie turned her attention to Maya, warmly gripped her hand and patted it.
‘Please,’ the younger woman replied a little self-consciously, ‘call me Maya.’
‘What a beautiful name! An extremely apt one too, if you don’t mind my saying so, my dear.’
‘Before I show Maya to her room, we’re in need of one of your excellent cups of tea, Lottie,’ Blaise teased, pulling out a couple of carved oak chairs from the kitchen table and indicating with a look that Maya should sit.
‘It’s all ready and waiting for you, my dears. The teapot’s been keeping warm for the past five minutes, and I’ve made some of your favourite ginger biscuits to go with it.’ She bustled around, arranging plates, cups, spoons and a dainty jug of milk, and finally brought the pretty china teapot to the table, removing its clearly home-made knitted cosy to pour the tea. Then she fetched a scalloped cream plate full of the most mouthwatering and delicious-looking home-made ginger biscuits that Maya had ever seen.
‘Help yourselves. I’ll leave you now and go and see if Tom has brought your bags in. If you want to top up the pot, there’s fresh hot water in the kettle.’
Carefully sipping her scalding hot tea, Maya relished the silence that suddenly descended. It gave her a chance to get her bearings and compose herself, even though her heart felt as if it missed a precarious beat every time she glanced across the table at Blaise.
‘Your housekeeper…Lottie…she seems like a lovely lady.’
‘She is. She’s been mothering me since I was little. In fact, sometimes I think she forgets that I’m a grown man!’
As if any woman couldn’t see that Blaise Walker was a man, Maya reflected, her avid glance privately examining the strongly delineated beauty in that indisputably masculine face, the stop-you-in-your-tracks blue eyes, the broad, hard-muscled shoulders beneath his casual but exquisitely tailored sports jacket.
‘When did you lose your parents?’ she asked, half expecting him to ignore the question. Or at the very least divert it.
‘About ten years ago. Funny…it doesn’t seem that long.’ The azure gaze was far away for a moment. ‘They were touring in Vienna with a company of local actors they’d been mentoring and the train they were travelling in derailed. They and the guard were the only fatalities.’
‘I’m so sorry. So they were actors too?’ Maya hadn’t realised that. Was that why Blaise had initially gone into acting and not play-writing?
‘Wait a minute…’ The search engine inside her head whirred to a surprised stop. ‘I vaguely remember hearing the news about that accident on the news…Henry and Letitia Walker were your parents?’
‘Yes, they were.’ Blaise’s wary glance levelled with hers for a moment, then moved uncomfortably away again. ‘Would you like some more tea?’
Again, after his surprising revelation about his father’s temper, the firm reminder of his fierce need for privacy reared its head, and Maya was forced to digest the astonishing information she’d just learned in silence. But discovering who Blaise’s famous parents had been was like just learning he was the offspring of one of the high-profile glamorous couples that dominated celebrity culture today. In their time, the Walkers had commanded just as much interest and notoriety. Silently, Maya digested the fact that Blaise was also the child of famous parents.
‘No. I’m fine, thanks.’
‘Then have a couple of Lottie’s delicious ginger biscuits. If you don’t, I may just be forced to eat the whole lot myself!’
‘You’ve got a sweet tooth, then?’
‘’Fraid so.’
‘Blaise?’
‘Yes?’ Wariness made the arresting summer eyes darken—just as though a storm was coming—and Maya knew he thought she was going to question him further about his parents. He’d already indicated that his family life had had its problems, and he was probably fairly prickly about having the fact speculated on by a comparative stranger. But, knowing how she guarded her own privacy where her father was concerned, she could at least accord him the same respect.
‘I won’t pry into your private life, I promise. I’m here to work, and I’ll try my best to do a good job for you helping with your research. You won’t regret hiring me.’
‘I’m sure I won’t.’
His tone was brisk and all business, and Maya’s throat ached with sudden unexpected hurt.
‘Now, finish your tea and I’ll show you where your room is. You’d probably appreciate a chance to relax then freshen up before dinner and to be frank…so would I.’
The almost companionable silence of their drive down had been replaced by a much more strained one at dinner. Stealing glances across the table at a subdued Maya, dressed in very becoming forest-green amid the flickering candlelight, somehow Blaise sensed himself become uncommunicative, on edge, and even inhabiting a state of regret about inviting her to come and help do the research needed for his play. Her incandescent beauty, so beguilingly captured in that incredible coveted portrait by her father when she was just fourteen, shone out no matter what she was feeling, and his painfully growing attraction for her was making a mockery of any more noble intentions he might harbour. Candidly, all Blaise could really dwell upon was his almost primal need to lose himself inside her, to feel her without censure, to experience the heat and passion he sensed lay simmering just beneath the surface of all that transparent sadness and have her incredible body join with his all night long.
With any other woman he desired the idea of becoming sexually intimate would not be nearly so complicated. But after that incident with Sheba upon their arrival at the house Blaise had again glimpsed the vulnerability and fear of being hurt in Maya’s painfully truthful gaze, and setting out to deliberately seduce her would make him feel like an unscrupulous carbon copy of her detestable ex-boss. He simply couldn
’t live with himself if he behaved like that. Maya was a woman to be gently wooed and made to feel safe in a man’s arms, he realised…not thoughtlessly and lustfully tangled in his sheets for a few hot nights then kissed goodbye!
Already he sensed she was the kind of girl most men probably dreamed of marrying. She had it all…beauty, intelligence, sensitivity and kindness. But, given the fine example of marital bliss he had witnessed growing up, and having seen how his father’s once vigorous passion for his mother had frighteningly deteriorated into resentment, jealousy and even violence down the years, marriage and even a long-term relationship with a woman raised the terrifying possibility that he would turn out just like his father. He had his genes, didn’t he? And his temper too, if he was truthful.
No…his grande passion was his work, and he was more than content to let that be his focus for the foreseeable future…
‘Your glass is empty,’ intoned the soft voice from across the table. ‘Shall I pour you some more wine?’
‘No, thanks.’ Having been lost in the disturbing maze of his thoughts, Blaise came firmly back to the present. Unable to help himself, he let his glance sweep lazily and contemplatively across the lovely features before him, then drift down to the demure V of Maya’s dress. It was a neckline that might conceal her curves far more successfully than that black velvet bombshell number he’d first seen her in, but it still paid delectable homage to enough smooth satin skin to make him want to see more.
‘I’ve had enough. Besides…alcohol’s not the answer.’
‘Not the answer to what?’
‘To what’s bothering me right now.’
‘What is bothering you, Blaise? I don’t want to pry, but if I could help in some way…?’
Along with that soft-voiced suggestion, Maya’s wide-eyed, innocent gaze sent a provocative charge of undiluted lust straight to Blaise’s loins, leaving him aching, aroused, and frustrated as hell that he could do damn all about it right then. Especially when the lady who had provoked his uncomfortable condition seemed completely oblivious to his dilemma!
‘Blaise?’ she prompted, sounding concerned.
‘It’s nothing to worry about. I was only thinking about the play and how much there is to do. Tomorrow I need to crack on with it, and in order to do that my mind needs to be clear and sharp. What I’m saying is that I think I’ll call it a day. Hope you don’t mind? I’ll see you in the morning, Maya. Sleep well.’
And with this sudden declaration he pushed to his feet, dropped his napkin on the table next to the polished candelabra with its soft flickering candlelight, then swiftly exited the room. No doubt leaving his beautiful new assistant to perplexedly ponder at her leisure on his sudden and rather abrupt need to leave…
The next morning, as he walked into the kitchen craving his usual cup of strong black coffee, the frustration of the previous night had scarcely improved. Even a hot, invigorating shower had failed to banish either the sensuous aching that had seized his body or the thoughts in his head that seemed obsessed with just one thing and one thing alone…making love to Maya.
A relentless tide of lust and desire for her had mercilessly tormented Blaise all night, keeping him awake practically from midnight to dawn. Only when the softly smudged pinkish-grey light of morning had streamed through the bedroom windows—windows that he invariably left uncovered and opened in the summer—had he perversely managed to close his eyes and fall into a deep sleep.
‘Good morning.’
The reason for his disturbed night stood in front of him, stirring a mug of coffee at the kitchen counter. She was dressed in fitted black jeans that hugged hips and thighs goddess-like enough to send every male from here to Alaska howling in delight at the sight of her and thanking the universe that he’d been born a man. On her top half she wore another fitted white cotton shirt that couldn’t help but make much of the fact that her waist was tiny and her bust was…Well, he couldn’t think of a single epithet just then that would do it justice. All Blaise could do instead was recall the sight of it contained in that knock-out black dress he’d first seen her in, and he was turned on all over again…instantly. To complete the highly arresting package she made, a small carved butterfly on a fine gold chain nestled at the base of her smooth skinned throat, and her emerald eyes gazed back at him like those of one who had slept the sleep of the innocent and woken as refreshed and rested as it was possible to be.
Because Blaise felt so grouchy, it was a double kick in the guts to encounter her fresh-faced loveliness and know that in comparison he must look like a man who had just crept out of some God-forsaken cave in the desert, where he’d slept on rocks all night!
‘Good morning.’ His voice sounded as if he’d been gargling with rusty nails too. ‘Sleep well?’
‘It’s the best night’s sleep I’ve had in years! Honestly, I’m not joking. The sofa-bed I use at home is hardly the most comfortable thing in the world, and I usually wake up in the morning aching all over and feeling like I’ve been kicked by a donkey!’
‘Doesn’t sound very appealing, I have to say.’
‘Trust me…it’s not. Would you like some coffee? Lottie had the percolator going when I came in and told me to help myself.’
‘Please.’
‘And how about some breakfast? I told Lottie I could see to it, as she’d got a pile of ironing to be getting on with.’
‘Not for me, thanks, but you go ahead if you want something.’
‘I’m fine. I never eat much in the mornings…so just some coffee for you, then?’
‘That’s all, thanks.’
He sat down at the table, scraped both hands backwards and forwards through his already tousled hair, and tried to force his distracted mind to focus on the play. In the entire history of his writing career never had anything been more seriously difficult…if not downright impossible…as he watched Maya cheerfully pour his coffee and bring it across to him, his gaze fixated on the gentle sway of those womanly hips in her spectacularly well-fitting jeans.
‘I’m really looking forward to starting work today,’ she enthused, gracefully dropping down into the oak chair opposite.
‘Are you?’ Sarcasm scarcely cloaked the frustration in Blaise’s tone ‘Well, if you’re feeling so full of get up and go perhaps you’d care to write the play for me?’
‘Is something wrong?’
A fleeting shadow of hurt passed across the vividly crystal irises and Blaise silently cursed himself. ‘I had a rough night, that’s all. And before you say it…I’m begging you…please don’t ask if there’s anything you can do to help!’
CHAPTER SIX
HIS gaze was hot, focused, and definitely aroused. Suddenly Maya knew very well why he had warned her not to offer to help. He had worn that same drowsy lustful ‘I could eat you up’ glance when he’d looked at her last night at dinner…just before he had declared that alcohol wasn’t the answer to whatever was bothering him.
But last night she had somehow fooled herself about what should have been as plain as the nose on her face. Before Blaise had offered her this job he had made it more than clear that he wanted to see her again, that he was attracted to her. Now Maya could no longer hide from the fact that he wanted her. The idea caused a lava flow of heat to erupt inside, making her squeeze her thighs together and squirm in her seat. Her body definitely responded to the libidinous signals Blaise was giving her, and indeed echoed them—yet because of her devastating past acting on her feelings was a frightening leap she just wasn’t ready to contemplate. Especially when she already knew that it had no future in it.
‘Is this going to get in the way of us working together?’ she asked quietly, staring down at the table. She continued, ‘Because I really want the chance to show you…to prove that I’m a fast learner where learning new skills is concerned and that I can be a genuine asset to you.’
‘Nothing gets in the way of my writing…Just because I’m attracted to you it doesn’t mean I’m going to throw the baby
out with the bathwater! I still have a play to write.’ The broad shoulders lifted in a tense little shrug that couldn’t help but reveal his frustration. ‘And I still need someone to do my research. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve got every chance of proving you can do a good job, Maya.’
‘Good.’ She relaxed.
‘But sex can be recreational too, you know.’
His words swept through her like a violent tornado.
‘For you maybe…but not for me’
‘Is that because you got hurt by someone, or just because you’re holding out for something more serious?’
‘Won’t you talk to me about the play?’ Taking a swift sip of her rapidly cooling coffee, Maya prayed her question was diverting enough to steer Blaise away from the far more dangerous ground he was currently intent on travelling…
Drumming his fingers on the table, he let a knowing little smile touch his lips ‘Because it’s safer?’
‘Probably…But I do really want to know what you’re writing about and hear your suggestions on what I need to research first.’
Sheba chose that very moment to pad into the kitchen and glance hopefully at them both. Studying the Wolfhound with far less wariness than she had yesterday, Maya smiled.
‘It must be just like having a small horse in the house, having Sheba about the place!’
‘Something like that,’ Blaise agreed, beckoning the animal to him and ruffling her fondly behind the ears. The dog sat, happily allowing him to make the fuss she’d obviously been seeking and clearly adoring him.
‘I suppose we ought to take her for a walk before starting work.’ He glanced across at Maya, his gaze friendly and with no hint of tension in those superlative blue eyes at all.
‘You want me to come too?’
‘Good opportunity to show you some of the countryside and talk about the play at the same time,’ he answered, rising to his feet with Sheba swiftly following suit…
