‘I’ll go and wake her up.’
Good idea, Tessa thought to herself, and then you can both head off to wherever you had planned on going. Anywhere but here would suit her fine.
‘Maybe you should let her sleep off her stress for a little while,’ she said reluctantly. ‘You can always come back if you want to take your girlfriend out. I’m home all evening and I don’t mind keeping an eye on her.’
‘You’re home on a Saturday night?’ For some reason that gave him quite a satisfied feeling and he relaxed enough to grin at her.
‘Yes, that’s right. Home on a Saturday night. How dull of me.’
‘I never said that staying in was dull. In fact, I rather enjoy staying in sometimes myself…’
The implication behind that hovered tantalisingly in the air between them, the implication that stay in he might but he would be doing it in the company of a woman, a Susie clone. Champagne in bed. Certainly not pasta on a tray in front of the television.
‘You never answered my question,’ Tessa repeated coldly. ‘I can babysit Anna if you’d like to pick up what you were doing with your girlfriend.’ Neither of them had sat down. Curtis had strolled over to the window and was perched on the ledge, arms folded over his muscled chest. Tessa had stopped in mid-stride in the middle of the room and hadn’t moved.
‘Oh, I think Susie’s better off where she is. No point making her endure my company tonight.’
‘I doubt she would consider it hard work,’ Tessa muttered sourly and he tilted his head politely to one side in a parody of someone doing their best to catch what was being said.
‘I can’t hear you when you mutter like that.’
Tessa panicked. What was she supposed to do with him if he stayed in her house till his daughter woke up? She had had enough experience of fraught teenagers to know that they could retreat for a quick nap only to fall into a deep four-hour sleep. Lucy had had a talent for just that when she had been younger. Tessa thought of Curtis Diaz prowling through her house for four hours while she tried to make conversation, and every ounce of self-composure went into immediate meltdown.
‘I said that I thought she looked…well, very let down… that your plans for the evening had changed… I’m sure she’d appreciate you going over and, honestly, there’s no point you being here if Anna’s sleeping…’ She wondered whether he had detected any desperation in her voice. He was still gazing at her with every semblance of attentiveness, though she had a feeling that she was getting precisely nowhere. ‘And I…I hadn’t planned on any company. There’s nothing to eat in the house…’
‘Nothing to eat in the house?’
‘Well, nothing fancy…’ He had managed to make her plausible-enough excuse sound ridiculous, as though a rooting-through of her cupboards and fridge would unearth nothing more than a few crusts of bread and some mouldy cheese.
‘I’d prefer to stay here. I understand your evening’s been spoiled, but I’m relieved you had nothing planned…’
Tessa felt her cheeks burn at what she thought was amusement in his voice. ‘Lucy’s away for the weekend…I enjoy the peace and quiet…’
‘So you said. Now, what were you planning on eating?’
‘Nothing! I mean, nothing much…’
‘Nothing much. Sounds fine. Unless you’d rather I went and brought us back something? There’s a supermarket I noticed on the high street. I’m pretty sure it’ll still be open.’
‘No, that won’t be necessary,’ Tessa said in a strangled voice. Visions of him returning in his fast car with shopping bags for an evening in cooking together was enough to bring her out in clammy perspiration.
It occurred to her that she had never entertained a man at home, not in the sense of make a meal together, sit and watch television. She had had a scattering of dates but no one important and she had always been happy to either go out somewhere or meet in a crowd. No wonder this man found her so amusing, accustomed as he was to the women he went out with.
‘I was just going to make myself some pasta,’ Tessa said reluctantly. ‘If you wait here, I can stretch it to two. I guess.’
He could hardly blame her for the lack of graciousness in her offer. He had descended on her with Anna in tow, ruined the peaceful evening she had planned, and she had now been further inconvenienced because his daughter had decided to fall asleep in her bed, leaving him here like a spare part.
That being said, Curtis didn’t for a minute contemplate taking her up on her suggestion that he return to his date for the rest of the evening.
‘I’ll go and check on Anna,’ he informed her, ‘and pasta sounds great.’
‘You can watch a little television if you like. Nothing much on and I’m afraid we don’t have cable, but…quiz shows can be quite entertaining…provided you don’t want to think too much…’ She knew that she was gabbling on, but his eyes were mesmerising, that was the only word to describe it. She had to inhale deeply and turn away to break the connection, then she hurried top speed towards the kitchen, hearing him as he headed up the stairs towards the bedroom.
Calm down, she told herself! She took a few steadying breaths and switched on the portable CD player on the kitchen counter. Lucy found it hilarious that her big sister actually listened to easy listening music, but right now it was exactly what her jangled nerves needed.
A soft, soothing melody filled the little kitchen and she began to slow down, humming quietly to herself as she began chopping onions and mushrooms and tossing them into the plastic bowl next to her.
She imagined Curtis sitting in the room watching a tedious quiz show and couldn’t stop herself from smirking.
In all her life, she could think of no one less suited to being condemned to enforced immobility in front of a boring television programme. Curtis Diaz had way too much energy surging through him for that. Well, she couldn’t help but think that there was a spot of justice to be found in the fact that he had wrecked her evening, intruded upon her private life despite her having made it absolutely clear from the word go that it was off limits, only to now find himself forced to sit down and kiss his own thrilling evening goodbye in front of the box. She began peeling the cloves of garlic, sniggering heartily at the thought.
The grin was still on her face when she swung around to grab a frying-pan from the cupboard, only to hear the subject of her musings say, in his smoky, sexy voice, ‘Care to share the joke?’
Tessa looked up in sudden shock. She had been so absorbed in her pleasant thoughts, so lulled by the melodic strains of music, that she had had no inkling of his presence. She hadn’t heard him approach! How long had he been there? Watching her? It made her feel as though he had been standing, spying on the workings of her mind.
‘I thought you said that you were going to go and watch some television!’ she accused hotly, snatching the frying-pan from the cupboard and proceeding to give him her most withering look.
‘No, actually you said that I was going to watch television, so that I could be tucked safely out of the way…’ He grinned with wicked amusement as his barb homed in with staggering accuracy.
Tessa recovered her aplomb quickly. ‘And why aren’t you?’
‘I did make an effort…’ He shrugged and walked into the kitchen where, infuriatingly, he began poking around in the bowl of chopped vegetables while Tessa watched in affronted silence. ‘But…’ he spun around and looked at her ‘…absolutely nothing on…’
‘Not even a quiz show?’ she asked sweetly.
‘Oh, yes, a couple of those. I wasn’t convinced. Can I help?’
‘Yes. You can go and watch TV and leave me in peace to get this food ready.’
‘I like your taste in music. What is this? Compilation?’ Without asking, he gathered up the stack of CDs that she kept on the counter by Lucy’s assortment of herbal tablets, and made himself at home on one of the kitchen chairs so that he could sift through them and give her his valued opinion on each and every CD.
‘I think we s
hould stick this one on,’ he announced, waving one of the CDs at her in a satisfied manner. ‘Lots of old numbers. In fact, I’m a little surprised you’re not into more modern music!’
Tessa made an inarticulate noise and began her work with the frying-pan, some butter and garlic, and the vegetables.
With staggering arrogance, he put on the CD he wanted to hear, a compilation of old soul songs, from way back to Otis Redding, and the next thing she felt was his warm breath fanning her neck as he asked her for a dance.
Already hot from standing in front of the stove and having to contend with his presence in the kitchen, virtually right under her feet, Tessa now felt a surge of blazing warmth invade her body in a rush.
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ she snapped, jabbing the vegetables in the frying-pan with overdone savagery.
‘What…not now? Not with me? Or not ever with anyone…?’
‘Shut up!’ She daredn’t lift her eyes to his, even when she was aware of him drawing back. If he even glanced at her flushed face, she knew that he would read every shred of wild confusion inside her, every treacherous tug of excitement filling her veins like poison. ‘Why?’ he asked interestedly. ‘Am I touching on a raw nerve? Don’t tell me that you’ve never danced to a beautiful piece of music in the privacy of your own four walls? With a man?’
Actually, no.
Tessa added some herbs and cream to the mixture and stuck a saucepan of water on to boil for the pasta, hiding behind the pretence of busyness to avoid answering his prying questions.
‘You’re not a man,’ she said, turning around to face him, arms folded protectively across her breasts. It was very important that she get that straight right now, she decided, before her wayward mind started taking too many unwelcome detours. Yes, he was attractive. Well, formidable, really. Yes, she had been aware of his sex appeal before now, but not like this, not in the claustrophobic confines of her own house. She had a deep-rooted fear that if she didn’t lay down her boundaries, something from him, some oozing magnetism, might just seep into the walls around her, into the furniture and lie waiting in ambush for her whenever she returned home.
‘You’re not a man,’ she repeated, ‘You’re my boss. You’re the person I happen to work for, who just happens to have found himself in my house for reasons beyond my control, and it’s no good you giving me a little speech about how you like to know your employees inside out, about how you like them being three-dimensional. I don’t feel any need to be three-dimensional with you. So, no, I won’t dance with you and whether I ever have at home with anyone is none of your business!’
That had wiped the grin off his face, she noticed. In fact, it seemed to have temporarily deprived him of the power of speech, which should have been good, should have been a clear pointer that she had won this particular battle, but for some reason the look on his face now was even more unsettling.
He had gone absolutely still and there was a dangerous quality to his stillness that had every pulse in her body racing.
‘Wh-which isn’t to say that I resent your probing…’ she stammered, lying through her teeth. ‘I mean, I know that it’s part and parcel of your personality…’
‘Being nosy?’
‘Curious,’ Tessa amended hurriedly. ‘Interested in everyone and everything…which brings me to my cooking…you’ll be interested to know that I’m not awfully good at it…’ She fervently prayed that he would take the bait, accept the olive branch she was holding out, which was by way of apologising for her criticism while sticking to her guns. He did. He gave her one of those heart-stoppingly crooked smiles and suggested wine with the meal, reminding her that none of them had touched what she had brought in earlier, before he had driven Susie home.
Curtis could almost hear her shudder with relief. He was pretty relieved himself. Since he had arrived at the house, he had been too aware of her for his own good. Too aware of her clean smell, the enchanting freshness of her looks, the enticing depths of her personality which fought him off and beckoned him at the same time, and just for a minute there, when she had firmly put him in his place, reminded him that he was nothing more than her boss and a highly inconvenient one at that, he had felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. Yes, he was her boss. A little technicality he didn’t intend to forget. Despite his predilection for sexy secretaries, he had never been tempted to sleep with any of them. Why he felt compelled to hire them in the first place was something he had never questioned, although he was inclined to agree with his mother that it was all to do with delegation of duties. He could get away with giving them the minimum to do, ensuring that company confidentiality was never threatened. It had always suited him. Tessa was already winning his trust, slowly but surely, when it came to work. Jeopardising that on an insane whim would be madness. Added to which he was not, by nature, attracted to women like her, women of discreet charms, however alluring those charms might seem on the odd occasion. Like right now.
He struggled to recover his usual easy charm and not let his attention stray from her flustered face to the gentle swell of her breasts and the slimness of her legs encased in their tight jeans.
‘Some wine, then. Food smells good, whatever you say…’ He disappeared towards the sitting room, to rescue the untouched wine she had poured earlier on and returned with the tray. ‘Gone a bit tepid, unfortunately…’
‘No problem. There’s some ice in the freezer.’
That unsettling moment had passed as ice was fetched and the table set and the food brought out, occupying most of the table top even though it was just one dish of pasta, one of salad and some dressing.
Or had it?
They sat opposite one another, but Tessa could feel her cheeks aching from having to force herself to smile. Just a few centimetres too far, and their knees would touch. A major disadvantage with a tiny kitchen table, she decided. To avert that possibility, she tilted her legs to one side, but every fibre in her being was aware of him, aware of the flex of his muscles as he dug into his food, aware of the way he twirled the spaghetti on his fork, aware of his dark eyes resting on her face during mouthfuls.
They talked about music, pleasant, unthreatening chit-chat that made her think about dancing with him. They talked a bit about work, about his ideas for the Far East, which made her wonder how he would look after a few weeks in the hot sun. Even darker and sexier than he did now. From that they moved easily into chatting about holidays abroad, and after she’d drunk two glasses of wine in record time she heard herself elaborating on her childhood, on how things had changed after her parents had died, on places she had seen and all the ones she wanted to but probably never would. At the back of her mind she knew that she would regret all the confidentiality in the morning, especially after her robust speech about keeping the lines between them clear.
But she didn’t want any pregnant pauses to creep into the conversation between them.
‘I hope it hasn’t been too much of a strain,’ Curtis said, when they had finished eating.
‘What hasn’t?’
‘My being here with you tonight, taking advantage of your hospitality and good nature…’
He knew that she would blush. He also knew that he should be listening to his head, which was telling him to leave as soon as possible, even if that meant waking his daughter up.
‘I…no, of course not…it’s been fine…’
‘Good.’ He stood up and waved her down when she was about to follow suit. ‘Don’t even think about it! You cooked and I’ll wash. Fair’s fair!’ He raked his long fingers through his hair and looked at her steadily. It required a superhuman feat of concentration. Her mouth looked so damned tempting, half parted like that…
‘Why don’t you go and check on my daughter?’ he said thickly, turning away. ‘I’m a quick washer. By the time you get back I’ll be done.’
Tessa stood up, thankful for something to do that required her to be out of the kitchen. ‘Just make sure you do a good job,’ she said ligh
tly, addressing his broad back and wondering how she could possibly know that he was smiling. ‘I don’t accept shoddy work.’
She had expected a nightmare evening. It hadn’t been. It had been good, and she wasn’t sure whether that was worse…
CHAPTER FIVE
TEN minutes later Tessa returned to the kitchen to find that the washing-up was certainly being done but in a cavalier fashion that entailed stacks of dishes balanced precariously on the draining-board. She watched, enjoying the sensation of being the observer rather than the observed, as Curtis’s hand hovered, trying to locate a safe spot on which a wine-glass could be deposited without bringing the whole fragile balancing act crashing to the floor.
‘Anna’s up,’ she announced. Without intervention, she doubted that the glass would survive in one piece. Before he could add it to the worrying pyramid of dishes, she grabbed a tea-cloth and removed it from his hand.
‘Oh, good,’ Curtis said, taking time out to watch her as she quickly dried the object and then moved on to remove crucially placed items back to the safety of the kitchen counter.
‘Up and very apologetic about just falling asleep like that. Apparently she’s been up very late most nights, doing emails to her friends, and what with exhaustion from work and all the stress of this evening, she just closed her eyes for one second and nodded off. I told her that she could have a bath and freshen up before she came down.’
‘Well, let’s hope she’s in a slightly better frame of mind when she emerges,’ Curtis replied, rinsing the last of the cutlery and dumping it into the upturned frying-pan, which was the closest thing to hand.
‘I think she’s hoping pretty much the same about you, actually.’ Tessa carried on with the drying-up, not looking at him. ‘There’s a method to washing dishes, in case no one’s ever told you,’ she said, breaking the silence with nervous chatter. ‘It usually involves using those convenient slots in the plastic for plates and the little attached rectangle at the front for cutlery.’
‘I say that when it comes to washing dishes, speed is of the essence. I have no reason why Anna thinks I might be in a bad mood.’
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