by Jane Linfoot
***
Ed, batting down yet another country lane, grappled with the unwieldy steering wheel, and cursed as he bounced the Land Rover around yet another corner.
Basic transport. One wealth-concealing novelty I can do without, he thought. Same with the full-time countryside. Two more excellent reasons to dispatch this challenge, and fast. Kicking around the local quarries all day, relying on the phone and lap- top to keep tabs on the rest of the worldwide business, tracking the progress of the French firework extravaganza. He couldn’t remember a time he’d been out of the office so long. Holidays weren’t his thing, he was more a work kind of a guy. Good job his various teams ran like clockwork in his absence. Cassie was another reason to get the challenge over and done with. She was sitting with her high-and-mighty judge’s hat firmly placed, ruling that casual cups of tea didn’t count as dates, even if you did take cakes. Especially when you didn’t have the tea, not that he’d actually admitted to that bit. Still, he mused, if this afternoon wouldn’t have counted as a date in Cassie’s darned book, then him being shown the door didn’t count either.
No-one had ever refused him a date before. Ever. But Millie had, and she was rubbing his nose in it. And he was letting himself take it, all in pursuit of the challenge. Although maybe it would have panned out differently if he hadn’t grabbed her. He was kicking himself for losing it like that, simply because she brushed by him practically naked.
Scraps of bikini, skin like hot toffee. Hardly worth the bother of dressing at all.
He wrenched the gear stick, crashing the gear-box to a howl as he missed the change.
He swore loudly.
He should be stronger than this. He knew he should be holding back, taking it slow, that if he didn’t he risked stuffing up completely. So why the hell hadn’t he?
And he hadn’t even got the twirl on the pole she’d promised.
At least she’d conceded ‘some other time’ as she blew him off. The smallest chink in her defenses, but it hadn’t gone un-noticed, and now he was here to capitalise on it.
Nine o’ clock. Time to try harder, and this time he’d get it right. He was on his way to one more spontaneous, original, and low-spend date tonight, already run past Cassie, and this time he’d make sure it was a date that counted. Date 4. This time he wouldn’t lose control. He’d give her all the space she needed, and work like crazy at making her feel comfortable. Hell, there were still so many dates left, there was plenty of opportunity to move things on later. Right now he needed to consolidate his position gently, and make sure she wasn’t so jumpy that she wrecked his plan entirely.
He allowed himself a secret self-congratulatory smile as he flung the Land Rover into her drive, and let it spread to a triumphant grin, as he saw Millie, just home, killing her car lights, opening her car door, and pushing out one deliciously curvy leg.
Perfect timing.
Drawing up beside her now. Sensibly. Absolutely no skidding. Window down, and drumming his fingers on the battered side of the door. ‘Hi! I thought I’d call by on my way home, just on the off-chance … ’
‘Home? I thought you didn’t have a home.’ And she’d already started, being exacting.
‘I’m crashing with friends until the barn’s ready.’ He’d already started lying – besides, if he told her he had the run of the East Wing at his parents’ Elizabethan castle, she wouldn’t have believed him anyway. ‘Coming for a spin? A warm summer’s evening, the moon on its way up.’
Out of her car now, and eyeballing him across her car roof, she was dropping her eyes, hesitating, the way she did yesterday, when he talked about independence. He’d seen that same flicker of her eyelids when he got to the bit about relying on people, the flicker that told him she couldn’t trust, wouldn’t trust. With his own trust issues, he knew the signs. Except her problems would be way less screwed up than his, probably all down to some unreliable guy.
He shifted in his seat as his gut tightened. Trying to tempt her. ‘Too nice to stay home.’
An inexplicable urge to flatten any guy who had hurt her surged through him, but his taut insides were more to do with the guilt about what ten dates could do to a vulnerable woman like her. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. There was no way he was in this for that. However fierce and independent she pretended to be, more than likely it was just a cover. Sometime soon he’d have to level with her, give her a clue what he was about, just so she knew.
He could feel her wavering.
He shot her a tenth of his emergency smile, not wanting to come on too strong. ‘So what do you say then?’ Leaned over, pushed open the passenger door, turned back and wound up the smile wattage. ‘I promise you won’t be disappointed.’
Two more aching minutes of deliberation, and he could feel her inward fighting, then suddenly it was over.
‘Go on then.’ And she was in, clambering up beside him, engulfing him with the heady scent of vanilla and hot skin, fighting to control the layers and layers of ragged net skirt, which still didn’t hide her legs. ‘And I’d better not be – disappointed, that is.’
Turning as he reversed, one glimpse of those bursting lips, so full of promise, through the tangle of her hair, reminded him to keep his eye firmly on the long term game. Strictly no rushing. ‘I don’t think anyone’s going to be disappointed this evening.’
***
Keeping it light, banging through the gears, belting through the dusk on the family estate. As the balmy evening air buffeted their faces, Ed, yelled over the rattle and roar of the engine.
‘You don’t need to worry, I’m not here to de-rail your life.’ He flashed her a grin that he hoped was honest, open, reassuring. ‘I can teach you truck-loads about independence. It could be just what you need. My only promise is, I won’t be staying.’ He hoped that would be enough to cover it, for now.
‘Great.’ Millie returning his grin, hugging her knee, one tatty plimsoll heel wedged on the hard seat, as she shouted back. ‘Thanks for that, I’ll bear it in mind.’
A thrust of his pulse as he caught a flash of thigh through the ruffles, tangled with an inward groan of disapproval for her shoe on the seat. No way would she be sitting like that in one of his cars.
‘Isn’t this private land?’ And she was onto him again.
He shrugged. ‘Special dispensation – for quarry workers.’ For this quarry worker, anyway, it was like playing in his own back garden, and he had a pang of disappointment that he couldn’t tell Millie that. ‘We’re going to a great place, down by the river. I think you’ll like it.’
If he was stuck with a damned four by four he might as well max it out. Veering off the track, he steered diagonally, bumping across the open field as he headed for the water.
‘We used to come here to swim as kids.’ Him, his five brothers and sisters, or rather the four of them still at home. That much he could tell her, that much at least was true. ‘There’s safe pool, where the river bends. Perfect on a summer’s evening.’
They rolled to a stop under a tree, and as he cut the engine he could hear the rush of moving water.
‘You’re expecting me to swim?’ Indignant didn’t begin to cover it.
‘It’s not compulsory.’
‘You should have said before, I’d have brought a swimsuit.’
‘The one I saw you in this afternoon was hardly worth wearing.’ That slipped out before he could stop it. ‘But it’s okay, it’s private here, it’s dusk, and there’s no-one to see.’
‘You’re here.’
He mentally toasted her ability to ruin another evening, as he opened his door, jumped down, grabbed towels from the back, and flung her door wide. Needling, because she was denying him the enthusiasm the place deserved.
‘For someone who makes a living taking your clothes off you’re very prudish.’ He joked.
There was enough light left in the day for him to know she was looking daggers at him.
‘I don’t, and I’m not.’ Add huffy and angry
to awkward and exacting.
He had to dig deep, and make a big effort to pull her around. Somewhere, in the dusk, amongst the ruffles of her skirt he found her hand. Warm. Slender. Surprisingly small, given the flock of butterflies it released in his chest. Closing his fist around it, he squeezed. ‘Just come for a walk then.’
He felt her give in, her hand flexing away from his grasp. And she was out, taking off, slipping ahead of him through the shadows, and by the time he reached the water’s edge she’d already kicked off her shoes and was ankle deep, ruffling her skirts, stamping.
‘It’s freezing!’
Despite the chill, he sensed her thawing.
‘That’s the whole point. It’s invigorating, but it’s easier if you do it a lot because your skin gets used to the cold.’
She was in up to her knees now, skirt bunched up, tucked under her short denim jacket. Standing still, as the moon slid up the sky, and emerged over the tree tops on the opposite bank.
‘Look, Ed.’ Her voice was urgent, and she was pointing upstream. ‘The moon’s lighting up the water.’
‘I told you you’d like it. And moonlight swimming is something else.’ He hesitated, not knowing whether to push it. ‘You don’t have to do it, but I’m going in.’
He flung down the towels, shrugged off his shirt, whipped down his jeans, and two seconds later he let out a shout as he stormed in, and the icy water hit his skin and smacked the breath from his body.
***
Buff naked man alert!
And even if it was almost dark, what a body!
The deep breath Millie drew as she saw Ed hit the water went on forever, but still didn’t seem to be giving her enough oxygen. She shook her head, raised an eyebrow in the shadows, and smiled silently, as she watched him gasping at the chill, his head bobbing as he jack-knifed in the silvery water.
‘Careful you don’t drown, I don’t have a lifeguard certificate!’ she called, shouting anything to cover her confusion.
And that had pretty much sealed it. She was going to have to go in too. There was no way on earth she could stand here and watch him emerge from the water. It had been bad enough sitting next to him in the Land Rover, watching his lean tanned forearms wrestling with the steering wheel. The sight of him naked would push her already surging hormones beyond the danger zone and out the other side.
Back there, the thought of swimming with him had set her alarm systems jangling, until he’d found her hand. That couldn’t have made her move faster if he’d been electrically charged. But going phwoaaarrr at the sight of a hunky male was one thing. Acting on it was something else entirely. One strict no-go area. Or it was when she had her rational head on. Despite the warmth of the air she shivered again, chewing her nail as she struggled to work out the ambiguity of her reactions. Traveling along those bumpy rutted lanes seemed to have knocked the sense clean out of her.
‘If you’re coming in, fast is the only way to do it!’ He was thrashing around, still facing the bank. ‘That way you don’t feel the cold!’
Thanks for that Mr Mitchum. She damn well would be fast, not because of the cold, but because she had to take him by surprise. But what to wear? She weighed up the options. Shorts and vest? Knickers and bra? None of the above?
Playing for time. ‘What’s it like in there?’
‘Cool!’
Were those his teeth chattering? Just do it. Hadn’t he just told her back there he wasn’t going to be sticking around? So she had very little to lose. So much to gain.
Three seconds, she was down to her underwear, one more and she was slicing through the water, her whole body shrieking with shock.
‘Watch out banshee, don’t put your head under, or you’ll mess up your cut!’ He was laughing at her now, lunging towards her, splashing exuberantly. ‘Good or what?’
She was wading, water up to her shoulders, laughing, shivering, juddering, gasping, not caring that he was in front of her now, gathering the strands of her hair that were dripping round her shoulders, and bunching them around the back of her neck.
‘Chilly.’ Her teeth rattled as she slid to a halt. ‘Like you said.’
She shuddered, wildly. Nothing to do with the cold. Knowing she should back away, splash away, run away, anything to put distance between her and this man who was tipping her force field upside down, his mega attraction dragging her to him, when she knew she should be running for the hills. And her limbs refusing to make any movements at all as she drank in his sculpted cheekbones, glossed with moonshine, that sexy sardonic twist of his lips, those damp locks of hair dangling over his forehead.
Now he was smiling, and her stomach was doing somersaults. Reaching out, she put one quaking hand on his upper arm to steady herself. Her touch met with his deliciously slippery skin, and the flex of deep muscle. The other hand went on his shoulder, then slid along, around, slithering onto his back, catching the shudders reverberating up his spine in her fingers, as her heart banged crazily against her ribs. Holding her breath, she pushed her hand into the wet tangle of his hair, and the undulations of his skull were firm and real under her finger tips. She knew that this time it wasn’t a dream, because his breaths were hot and ragged on her cheekbone.
Reaching up, grazing her mouth along the stubble, she found the edge of his bottom lip, feathering with her tongue, teasing, asking, demanding. And all the time, he was still, remote, stony, standing like a shivering statue.
She shifted, jerked as the length of his erection banged against her pelvis.
‘Sorry.’ One mumbled apology
‘Don’t be.’ His growl was feral. ‘I’m not.’
Then his mouth slid over hers and she dived deep into the tangling, demanding vortex of his kiss. Hungry. Starving. Longing for the taste, pushing her breasts against the rock of his chest, sliding her calf around the sinews of his thigh, reveling in the raw heat of his mouth.
This was real. The gruff moan in his throat as she tugged on his hair was real, the pressure of his hands on her waist as he lifted her was real.. Buoyed by the water, she wrapped her legs tight around his waist, locked her arms around those rippling shoulders. And boy, the volcano of desire, pounding between her legs was real, as she moved against his pelvis. Letting her eyes slide upwards to check the moon was still there, finding it blurred by the aching need in her body.
Then, she suddenly found that she could breathe again.
And she was rocking, gently, moving against him as he was striding towards the bank, the air cold on her emerging skin.
And then he was disentangling her, unwrapping her legs, unhooking her arms, and as her dangling feet hit the mud of the shore, he bent, flipped her a towel, and she knew it was over.
CHAPTER FIVE
MILLIE always got up extra early on Thursdays. With no classes to distract her, she liked to exercise Cracker at day-break, then hammer on with her box making. But this morning she was doing more thinking than gluing, and more cursing than thinking. And if that wasn’t enough, she was running short of material for her French-themed line. She’d severely under-estimated how much she was going to need.
Another tri-colour bit the dust, as she slammed her fist into the table. She growled, and a half-finished box flipped across the surface, toppled off the edge, and skidded across the tiled floor. ‘Marie-frigging-Antoinette!’
‘See you tomorrow.’ That’s what Ed had shouted after her as he’d shot off in a spray of gravel last night. ‘See you tomorrow.’
Just the thought of it made her furious. She’d put herself out there, taken a risk, totally against her better judgment, and he’d thrown it back in her face. All her fault. She should have kept a grip of herself, not jumped him like some sex-starved harpy, not assumed that just because for an instant she’d had an inexplicable urge to eat him whole, it was reciprocated. It had been utterly humiliating, being carried from the water like a kid, but it served her damn well right for deviating so far from her plan. Last night had been one bad, bad call. Her life-plan w
as there for a reason, and she should darn well stick to it.
See you tomorrow? She snorted disgustedly. How about – not if I see you first mate?!
And just to prove she meant business, she’d put on her scrattiest playsuit, and left her hair unbrushed.
Not that she was expecting callers.
She heard the knock first, then the clunk of the door handle. Then the rasp of his voice sent her heartbeat into overdrive.
‘Anyone home?’
This far through the day and no contingency plan for if he walked in. She really wasn’t functioning properly.
He sidled in, looking as if he’d just stepped out of a Vogue ad. ‘I’ve brought salad. Thought you might like to give me that twirl.’
And her legs turned to jelly, though this time she was the one growling.
‘You’ll be lucky!’
Noticing the fallen box on its side on the floor, he stooped to pick it up, turning it nonchalantly between his fingers.
This one already had her ABB signature stuck firmly in place.
No way was she up for questions about her Amelia Brunswick Brown alter ego, the moneyed parents, the running away. She’d made the hardest decision of her life when she was Amelia. Not that she’d ever forget that. She lived with the burden of it every day. But she’d made her new start as her abbreviated-alias, Millie Brown, and it was imperative she kept Amelia hidden.
‘I’ll take that, thanks!’ She snatched it, and spun it back onto the work table before he had time to blink.
One grin turned to grimace, a roll of his still-too-dark eyes, then moving on to the kitchen, he plonked down a carrier from the deli in town, and a pretty glass bottle of something fizzy. ‘Have you eaten today?’
She desperately scraped her fingers through her hair, regretting the playsuit choice now. ‘Nope.’
He sniffed his disapproval, pushed one delectable dark wave off his forehead. ‘It’s bad to skip breakfast, even if you have just got up.’
