Книга - Snowbound Seduction

Snowbound Seduction
HELEN BROOKS








‘You think I’m a wolf?’ he drawled lazily. ‘Of the big bad variety?’


‘Aren’t you?’ she prevaricated.



‘Not these days.’ Something flashed in the golden eyes and was gone. ‘Although I won’t say I’d be able to resist doing this occasionally.’



His lips had taken hers before she could do anything about it. It was a confident kiss, firm and sexy, his mouth exploring hers with an expertise that was far from chaste. He broke the kiss before she regained enough control to finish it.



‘You prove you’re not a wolf by kissing me?’ she asked, proud of the slightly amused note she managed to inject into her tone, hiding her trembling hands in her lap.



‘Absolutely. A wolf wouldn’t have stopped at a kiss…’





Snowbound Seduction


by




Helen Brooks











www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


HELEN BROOKS lives in Northamptonshire, and is married with three children and three beautiful grandchildren. As she is a committed Christian, busy housewife, mother and grandma, her spare time is at a premium, but her hobbies include reading, swimming and gardening, and walks with her husband and their two Irish terriers. Her long-cherished aspiration to write became a reality when she put pen to paper on reaching the age of forty and sent the result off to Mills & Boon.

Recent titles by the same author:

SWEET SURRENDER WITH THE MILLIONAIRE

THE MILLIONAIRE’S CHRISTMAS WIFE

THE BOSS’S INEXPERIENCED SECRETARY




Chapter One


SURELY the run-up to Christmas wasn’t meant to be like this? Driving rain, a bitter wind and everyone looking as though they could do murder. Children all over the world were opening the first little window of their Advent calendars today; there should be excitement and anticipation and a warm snuggly feeling for them at least, even if snow wasn’t provided.

Rachel Ellington looked after the grim-faced mother with two screaming toddlers and a baby in a pushchair who had just elbowed her out of the way with such force it had hurt. And the harassed mother wasn’t the only one with a face like thunder. The pavement was full of sullen schoolchildren with huge bags and even huger attitude; power-dressed commuters of both sexes hunched against the spray from passing traffic as they used their umbrellas like weapons; and a group of students jostling each other in a manner that suggested a fight might break out as they waited in a bus queue that stretched for ever.

Rachel glanced in the shop window she was passing and an enormous Father Christmas with a sack of gaily wrapped presents and a somewhat hideous grin stared back at her. It had been there since October, along with the fairy-lights and tinsel and Christmas tree.

Of course, that was half the trouble. The TV advertisements and shops and all levels of commerce began to whip up seasonal jollity so far in advance that by the beginning of December it was all used up. She grimaced as she realized she sounded just like her mother. But it was true, she thought, trying to ignore the drips of freezing water trickling down her neck. She’d forgotten her umbrella this morning—again.

She wouldn’t go as far as her mother, who advocated a return to the days when the tree was dressed and decorations put up not an hour before Christmas Eve, and children should be presented with a stocking containing an orange, apple and nuts, along with a shiny coin and one present only, but there was something to be said for the old days when the latest ‘must-have’ toy costing an arm and a leg had been unheard of. And when a man saying ‘I love you’ meant more than just a nicety before getting you into bed.

She stood stock still as she realized what she’d just thought, causing major chaos for a moment as the people behind cannoned into her and each other.

Where had that little piece of cynicism sprung from? she asked herself as she apologised all round and started walking again. She was over Giles, she had been for months. And after the first caustic, devastating weeks in the summer when she had felt the whole world knew she’d been taken for a fool by the man she’d thought she’d be spending the rest of her life with, she’d become aware Giles had hurt her pride more than her heart. Which had caused her a few more sleepless nights. How could she imagine herself madly in love to the point of accepting his proposal of marriage one minute, and then be glad he was out of her life the next? It was positively scary when you thought about it.

Not that it had exactly been the next minute, she qualified silently. She’d endured a few hellish weeks before that had come about, crying herself to sleep each night and losing nearly a stone in weight, which had given her a scrawny alleycat look. Already too thin by her own estimation it had been the spur she’d needed to start eating again, and she’d indulged in chocolate éclairs and other calorie-packed treats by the bucketful until her modest curves were back. Jennie and Susan, her flatmates, had been green with envy, which had been infinitely preferable to their pity of the preceding weeks.

As she turned off the main thoroughfare into the maze of side streets that eventually led to the tiny mews in Kensington where her flat was situated, a gust of wind and rain almost blew her off her feet. She normally enjoyed the brisk fifteen-minute walk home from the office but tonight was an ordeal. She should have travelled by tube but she had an aversion to the underground at the best of times, and a rainy December day with damp bodies steaming and lethal umbrellas by the hundreds definitely wasn’t the best of times to journey in one of the packed rush-hour trains.

By the time she turned the key in the lock of the door of the downstairs flat she’d shared with her two best friends since the three of them had left university five years before, she was soaked to the skin. Her hair was plastered to her scalp, her mascara had run in rivulets down her cold cheeks and she was frozen to the marrow. She wanted nothing more than to lie in a scalding-hot bath for an hour with a glass of wine and a good book, and as she was always home long before Jennie and Susan, there was no reason she shouldn’t.

She almost fell into the small square hall and stood for a moment with her eyes shut. Today had been a foul day altogether. After leaving university with a very acceptable 2.1 in business studies and marketing, she had obtained a post as assistant to the marketing manager of a fast-food chain. The pay was excellent and she knew her strengths were a keen awareness of client needs and a very good business sense, along with a natural flair for organising and planning. Unfortunately, on the latest project the sales team had failed to adequately follow up their part of the master plan, but due to a catalogue of half-truths and downright lies, it had been she who’d been left with egg on her face when the whole job had collapsed.

Rachel pulled off her sodden coat and kicked off her shoes, the memory of her manager Jeff’s face when he’d taken her to task earlier that afternoon humiliatingly vivid. He’d been livid, having had a roasting from the managing director himself, and hadn’t listened to a word she’d said in her defence.

She had entered the marketing world knowing promotion could be fast, but her chosen career was not for the faint-hearted: pressures were intense and security was mostly non-existent. She had been earmarked to take on Jeff’s role when he transferred to the northern branch of the company early in the new year, but whether that would happen now was anyone’s guess.

She frowned fiercely. All in all, she wouldn’t be sad to see the back of this year and Christmas was going to be an endurance test. She had met Giles at a daytime Christmas party her firm had held for clients past and present the previous year, and they’d had their first date that same evening. This Christmas was going to give rise to some unwelcome memories.

‘Hi, there.’

The deep male voice caused her to jump violently, and as an involuntary gasp left her lips, she looked up to see a tall, dark stranger standing in the doorway of the sitting room. Her heart thumping so hard she put a hand to her chest to contain it, she bit out, ‘Who on earth are you and what are you doing in my flat?’ as her mind raced. What was within reach to defend herself with? Only her handbag, and much as she loved the sweet little red bow bag Jennie and Susan had bought her for her last birthday, it was hardly the stuff to strike terror into a burglar’s heart.

There had been a spate of break-ins in the area over the last months and always when the householders were at work. Only last week one occupant of the mews had returned home to find her place being ransacked and the assailant had turned very nasty.

‘Hey, it’s OK.’ The male voice was lazy. ‘Don’t panic.’

As he moved a pace or two towards her, Rachel felt in her bag for her perfume. ‘This is a pepper spray and you come one step closer and you’re getting it in the face,’ she grated with more aggression than she was feeling. In truth she was scared to death. He was so big and broad. She hadn’t turned the hall light on when she’d come in and he’d clearly just put a lamp on in the sitting room because the chink of light coming through the half-open door was so dim it merely shrouded him in shadow. Nevertheless, she could see she’d stand no chance.

‘Let me give you a tip,’ he said mildly. ‘If you’re going to use something like pepper spray, it’s best not to give a warning. The element of surprise is crucial.’

He was now so close she could see his features and she received her second shock of the evening. As burglars went, this one was to die for. She already knew he was tall and dark, now add handsome multiplied by ten. Black hair, straight nose, firm sensual lips, and his eyes…She stared into the heavily lashed golden-brown gaze almost mesmerized. Pulling herself together, she said icily, ‘Now, look here—’

‘The name’s Zac Lawson.’ He said it as though it would clarify everything, and when she still continued to hold herself tense and at the ready, he added, ‘Jennie’s cousin? She called you and Susan earlier to explain.’

‘Explain?’ she echoed a little vacantly. The tawny eyes were compelling. Too compelling, a separate part of her mind stated ominously. Whoever he was, this man had more than his fair share of magnetism. Just like Giles. And like Giles, she had the feeling he’d use it to his advantage without any compunction whatsoever. Not reassuring in the circumstances.

‘Have you checked your mobile recently?’ he said patiently.

A little too patiently, Rachel thought critically. His voice carried more than a touch of long-suffering in its velvet depths. And, of course, today would be the day she’d turned her mobile off when she’d been called in to Jeff’s office for her dressing-down and forgotten to turn it on again.

Stiffly, she said, ‘I’ve been extremely busy.’

He nodded. A fairly benign action and his face was quite impassive, so why she should find the movement so offensive Rachel wasn’t quite sure. Perhaps it was his resigned air?

‘I’m Jennie’s cousin,’ he said again in the same patient tone. ‘Our families lived in the same street while we were growing up so we saw a lot of each other before my parents moved to Canada when I was sixteen and Jennie was eleven. I’m over here on business for three weeks, and when I rang Jennie to say hi she insisted I have dinner with you all tonight.’

That explained the smoky, sexy burr to his voice. She hadn’t been able to place the accent, it was so slight, but it added to his overall attraction a hundredfold. Not that she was attracted to him, she added hastily. She’d had her fill of arrogant, handsome charmers and Jennie’s cousin seemed full of himself.

‘I called in at Jennie’s office and picked up her key earlier—she insisted the flat was a better place to chill out after the flight than a hotel room,’ he continued lazily. ‘I’m afraid I’ve been dead to the world on the sofa.’

Rachel forced a stiff smile. ‘That’s fine.’ Remembering her manners, she added, ‘Can I get you a drink?’ as she reached out and switched on the light.

She became conscious of several things at the same time. Jennie’s cousin was even more devastatingly gorgeous now she could see him properly. There was a touch of grey in the black hair above his ears but it only increased the male magnetism, and the golden gaze was truly spellbinding in the bright light. She had never seen another person with eyes like his. Secondly, those same eyes were surveying her with definite amusement. Thirdly, his clothes—not to mention the gold Rolex on one tanned wrist—screamed wealth and taste, and lastly—but most importantly—she looked like something the cat wouldn’t deign to drag in.

Ignoring the puddle of water that had formed at her feet, she kept the smile on her face through sheer willpower. ‘A glass of wine?’ she persevered. ‘Or I think we have a bottle of brandy somewhere. Or perhaps you’d prefer coffee or tea?’ she added graciously, the effect being somewhat spoilt when she shivered convulsively and then sneezed three times.

His voice had gentled to the tone one would use with a very young child. ‘Why don’t you go and change out of those wet clothes while I fix us both some coffee? I think of the two of us you’re in need more than me right at this moment.’

She couldn’t deny it, with her teeth chattering loud enough to wake the dead. Besides which, she wanted nothing more than to escape those lethal eyes and make herself presentable. She had never fooled herself she could compete with Jennie’s dark-eyed voluptuous beauty or Susan’s delicate blonde appeal. Her own brown hair and blue eyes were fairly nondescript in her opinion, but looking like a drowned rat was something else.

Clinging onto the shreds of her dignity, Rachel nodded brightly. He had said and done nothing wrong, not really, and she didn’t know why she had taken such an instant dislike to Jennie’s cousin, but she had. Nevertheless, he was a guest and she knew her manners. ‘Thank you. The coffee and sugar pots are on the breakfast bar and there’s a fruit cake in the cake tin in the cupboard. Side plates and mugs are—’

‘I’ll find everything. Why don’t you have a hot bath?’

Now his voice was distinctly soothing as he interrupted her and it made her want to kick him. Feeling more than a little unnerved by the strength of her own feelings and completely out of her depth, she decided retreat was the only option. ‘I won’t be long,’ she managed as she left for the bathroom. ‘Please make yourself at home.’ As if he hadn’t already.

Rachel forwent the hot bath for a warm shower, stuffing her wet clothes in the laundry basket before pulling on the towelling robe she kept on a peg behind the bathroom door and padding through to the bedroom she shared with Jennie to dry her hair. When the three of them had moved into the flat it had been agreed Susan would occupy the tiny second bedroom owing to the fact she snored—loudly.

The ravages of her make-up having been removed in the bathroom, she applied fresh eye shadow and mascara before drying her hair whilst sitting at the small dressing table. She left her thick shoulder-length hair loose, she hadn’t got time to fiddle with it, and quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a warm sweater, surveying herself in the full-length mirror on the wall before she left the room.

Better, but then, anything would be better than the sight she had presented in the hall. What must he have thought? And then she answered herself sharply. It didn’t matter what Zac Lawson thought. Not one little bit. And as soon as she possibly could after dinner, she was claiming a headache and leaving the rest of them to it. Polite conversation she could do without.

She could smell coffee when she exited the bedroom and as though he had some sort of X-ray vision that could see through brick walls, Zac appeared in the doorway to the sitting room. ‘Just in time,’ he said, as though she were the guest and he was the householder. ‘Come and have some coffee and cake.’

Rachel found she was gritting her teeth as she followed him into the room, and then tried to compose her features into a more acceptable expression as he turned and indicated the tray on the coffee table. ‘There was milk and cream in the fridge so I brought both, along with a tin of coffee whitener I found.’

How thorough. Knowing she was being uncharacteristically bitchy, Rachel cleared her throat. ‘I take mine black.’

‘Really?’ He stared at her as he passed her a mug.

She’d surprised him. Good. She had the feeling women didn’t surprise Zac Lawson too often. He had the confident aura of a man who had the world in general pretty much taped.

When she cut them both a piece of cake and her slice was as large as his, she knew she’d surprised him for the second time in as many minutes. She answered the raised eyebrow with a shrug. ‘Fast metabolism.’

One corner of his slightly stern and very sexy mouth twisted. ‘I bet the other girls love you when they’re chomping on lettuce and you’re tucking into the full McCoy and still looking like a model, fast metabolism or not.’

Looking like a model? Was he being sarcastic? She stared at him. He had the sort of face it was impossible to read. Coolly, she said, ‘Hardly.’

‘They don’t mind?’

He was definitely being deliberately obtuse. ‘I meant I hardly look like a model,’ she said even more coolly, taking a bite of cake and hoping he’d take the hint and leave well alone.

He settled back in the comfy armchair that faced the sofa where she sat, arms stretched out along the back of the seat and one leg crossed over the other knee. It was a very masculine pose. He was a very masculine man. The tawny eyes moved over her face. She could feel them even though she was concentrating on the plate on her lap.

‘You look perfect model material to me,’ he said mildly.

Was he teasing her or flirting or what? Whatever, she so wasn’t doing this. Regretting that she’d let him see he’d got to her and wishing she’d just let it go in the first place, Rachel forced a smile. ‘Well, I haven’t been spotted by a talent scout to date and I’m perfectly happy with the day job.’ Even to herself she sounded overly facetious. A little desperately now, she added, ‘What is it you do, by the way?’

He didn’t comment on the clumsy change of conversation. Demolishing half his slice of cake with one bite, he chewed and swallowed at leisure before he said, ‘I work in the family glass-making business back home in Canada. Have done since uni.’

Unexpected. In spite of herself, Rachel was intrigued. ‘Really? That’s a very old industry, isn’t it?’ She’d had him down as a modern whizz-kid, all bells and whistles and something mega in the city.

‘It goes back some,’ he agreed lazily, finishing his cake before he continued, ‘The Canadian side of the family have had their own business for over a century and it’s been handed down through the generations. Most glass-making firms, like other old industries, have been taken over by large manufacturing groups. We’re one of the few family businesses still going, which is the main reason my father moved us to Canada when I was a youth. He’d had a falling out with his father—my grandfather—when he was a young man and left Canada for England. My grandfather had his first heart attack when I was sixteen and my grandmother begged my father to return. There was a kind of a reconciliation and, as my father was their only child, he agreed to return permanently and take over.’

Intrigued, she said, ‘What was the falling out about?’ before blushing violently as she realised how nosy that sounded. ‘I’m sorry,’ she added hastily before he could speak. ‘It’s none of my business. You really don’t have to answer that.’

‘No problem. My father met my mother when she was holidaying in Canada and it was one of those rare instant for-ever things. My grandfather thought my father ought to marry the daughter of some friends of theirs, apparently the two sets of parents had planned it for years. The girl was willing, my father wasn’t. He’d already made his feelings plain before he met my mother, but my grandfather wasn’t used to being thwarted. He’s an irascible old man when he gets the bit between the teeth, as he often does.’

‘He’s still alive?’

‘Very much so. Three heart attacks to date, mainly, so my grandmother insists, because of his temper. Anyway, there were harsh words on both sides and my father followed my mother to England and married her. It was twenty-five years before my grandfather and father spoke again. The Lawson males are a stubborn lot, it’s in the genes.’ He smiled.

She didn’t doubt it. There was something in the square jaw that told her Zac was no different from the rest of them.

It was cosy in the small sitting room, which was still dimly lit. Rain was lashing at the window and the flickering flames from the gas fire cast the hard male face into moving planes and angles. Rachel shivered, though not from cold. There was something infinitely…unsettling about Jennie’s Canadian cousin. Undoubtedly he was very sure of himself, he exuded an arrogance that set her teeth on edge, but it was more than that—quite what, she didn’t know.

‘So you’re over here on business for a while?’ she said when the silence became uncomfortable. On her part at least. Zac appeared perfectly relaxed as he finished his coffee.

‘Uh-huh.’ He smiled, the tawny eyes glittering in the dim light. ‘That cake’s pretty good.’

She took the broad hint and cut him another hefty slice. As she did so his mobile phone rang and he glanced at it before saying, ‘Do you mind if I answer this?’

‘Of course not.’ At least it would delay having to make conversation for a while. As she rose to give him some privacy, he said quickly, ‘No, please stay,’ before speaking into the phone, ‘Hi, Sarah. How are things going there?’

The girlfriend? She muttered something about things to see to in the kitchen and made her escape. Of course, he could be married. He wasn’t wearing a ring but lots of men didn’t.

They were having shepherd’s pie for dinner, which Jennie had prepared the night before, it being her turn on kitchen duty that week, and there was ample for four. Glancing at the clock, Rachel put the pie in the oven and sliced some fresh carrots and broccoli, trying not to strain her ears to catch what was being said in the sitting room. She heard him laugh, a warm, rich sound, and paused for a moment before reaching for the pot of double cream in the fridge and tipping it into a bowl. Once the electric mixer was going, it drowned out any sound from the sitting room, and when the cream peaked she put the finishing touches to the raspberry trifle Jennie had designated for dessert. As she did so, Zac appeared in the doorway.

‘You needn’t have left,’ he said quietly. ‘It was only my secretary reporting on things at the office.’

His secretary? Things had sounded mighty cosy; perhaps he mixed business and pleasure? ‘I needed to see to the dinner,’ she said as she gave herself a mental slap. What business was it of hers if Zac was sleeping with his secretary? Giles had been sleeping with his too but the irony there was that she was his wife—a little fact he’d omitted to mention when he’d met her. And when he’d proposed. She’d only found out he was married when his wife had turned up on her doorstep one evening, having learnt of their relationship through a friend of a friend of a friend.

She didn’t know if it made it better or worse that she wasn’t the only woman he’d fooled about with since his marriage eight years before, but she had believed his wife absolutely when she’d told her the cold facts. She was just amazed Melanie had stuck with him so long. Giles’s wife had been nice, the sort of woman she could have been friends with in different circumstances. Much too nice for a rat like Giles.

‘You OK?’ Zac shifted in the doorway.

Too late she realised her always too-expressive face had given her away. ‘Fine,’ she said with a careless shrug, hoping he’d take himself back to the sitting room. ‘I’ll come and join you in a minute,’ she added pointedly, turning to the dirty breakfast dishes in the sink and filling the washing-up bowl with hot, soapy water. ‘The others should be back soon.’

To her horror he had joined her in the next moment, tea towel in hand. The kitchen wasn’t large as it was, but with his height and breadth dwarfing her it had suddenly got a whole lot smaller. ‘No.’ It came out too sharply, and she modified her tone when she said, ‘You’re a guest. I wouldn’t dream of letting you dry up,’ hoping she didn’t sound as flustered as she felt, although she knew it was a vain hope.

Looking relaxed and slightly amused, he murmured, ‘I’ve no problem with working for my supper.’

‘No, really, I mean it.’ She stood guard over the dishes.

‘So do I.’ He smiled easily but his tone was cooler.

Rachel jutted out her chin like a teenager. This was ridiculous. It was her kitchen. ‘This is too small a room, only one person at a time works in here. We’ve got a rota…’ That sounded silly. ‘And,’ she said truculently, ‘I’ve got my own way of doing things.’

‘How difficult is it to get it wrong when you dry dishes?’

‘I’ll bring you a glass of wine through in a minute,’ she said, purposely not answering him, ‘and Jennie will be home any moment. She’ll expect you to be sitting watching TV.’

‘I think she’d survive the shock nonetheless.’

It was useless arguing with him but neither was she going to give in. She was blowed if she was going to let another Giles tell her what to do. She stood, straight and stiff and without glancing at him until she heard him leave the kitchen. Then she let her body sag. Damn, damn, damn. Now she felt awful. She was never intentionally rude and he was Jennie’s cousin after all, but why couldn’t he take a hint? Irritating, awkward man.

Without considering what she was going to say, she marched through to the sitting room. He was standing with his back to the room looking out of the window into the dark, stormy night.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said without any preamble. ‘I sounded rude and I didn’t mean to be. It’s just that—’

‘You don’t like me for some reason,’ he finished for her, turning round and pinning her with the golden gaze. ‘Right?’

Lost for words, Rachel shook her head helplessly. ‘I don’t know you,’ she prevaricated at last.

‘No, you’re right, you don’t,’ he said softly, but with an iron edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. ‘If you did know me and you’d still come to that conclusion, it wouldn’t matter.’ He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘As it is, I guess it still doesn’t matter, but I’d appreciate you trying to be civil this evening for Jennie’s sake, if nothing else.’

Her temper rising, she stared at him. ‘Of course I’ll be civil. I told you, I didn’t mean to be rude.’ Her words were clipped, frosty. How dared he tell her what to do in her own home?

She thought she saw the hard mouth twitch for a moment. ‘That’s very reassuring.’

He was laughing at her again. How dared he? But the hot words quivering on her tongue fortunately never got said. Jennie chose that moment to open the front door of the flat, calling out, ‘Zac? Are you here?’ as she entered the hall.

Rachel saw her friend’s eyes widen when they took in the tall handsome man her cousin had become, and then, in true Jennie style, she’d flung herself into Zac’s arms and planted a smacking kiss on his mouth before he had a chance to object.

Not that he would have objected, Rachel told herself as she left them to it, murmuring something about opening a bottle of wine. Jennie was gorgeous with her black hair and dark brown eyes and the sort of Marilyn Monroe figure that turned men on from schoolboys to geriatrics. And she was between men at the moment, having just dumped her latest boyfriend. They never lasted long with Jennie, she bored easily.

When she re-entered the sitting room Jennie had drawn Zac down beside her on the sofa and was asking about the family, one hand resting on his arm as she gazed up into his face. Rachel knew that look. And when Jennie set her sights on a man they didn’t stand a chance. It normally amused her when Jennie went into her femme fatale role. Tonight, though, she felt rattled and disturbed. She was careful to give no sign of her feelings when she poured the wine, filling the fourth glass on the tray when Susan’s key sounded in the lock.

Susan joined them, slender, beautiful Susan with her white blonde hair and the face of an angel, smiling charmingly and saying all the right things as Jennie introduced her to Zac. And Zac was as charming back. He’d stood up when Susan had entered the room and now displayed the most perfect manners, his conversation witty and amusing as they sipped at their wine.

Rachel sat watching the other three and said little, she didn’t need to. Jennie and Susan and Zac were getting on like a house on fire. She felt a growing sense of déjà vu but she didn’t have to search her mind long for the cause. How often in the past, before she’d escaped the family home for university, had she sat and watched her two older sisters be the life and soul of the proceedings while she’d sat dumbly by? Dozens of times. Hundreds probably. And yet every time had hurt just as much.

After two sweet, girly, blonde little girls, her mother had decided her third child would be a boy to complete their perfect family, and her mother always got what she wanted. Except she’d had another girl. And this girl had been long and skinny with straight brown hair when she’d finally grown hair at the embarrassingly late age of eighteen months. Embarrassing for her mother, that was, Rachel thought grimly. She had been brought up on stories of how mortified her mother had been in producing such an ugly duckling. Or perhaps cuckoo in the nest was a better description. Lisa and Claire, her sisters, with only fifteen months between them, had always been inseparable, and she’d grown up feeling the odd one out in more ways than one. It wasn’t until she’d met Jennie and Susan in the first week of university that she’d come to understand the meaning of true friendship and support from members of her own sex. The three of them had gelled instantly; it was her misfortune the other two were quite stunning.

Her forehead creased as she sipped at her wine, her gaze now inward looking. What would Freud say about her choice of friends? That she was unconsciously trying to right the wrongs of her childhood or that she’d been programmed to purposely seek out friends who would overshadow her? She mentally shook her head at the path her thoughts had taken, suddenly annoyed with herself and the self-psychoanalysis.

She and Jennie and Susan were genuine, rock-solid friends and had been from the first—it was as simple as that.

‘I’d better see to the dinner.’ Jennie jumped up in the next moment, flashing Rachel a smile as she added, ‘Thanks for putting it on, Cinders.’

‘Cinders?’ Zac’s eyes shot to Rachel’s face. ‘Why Cinders?’

As Zac immediately homed in on the nickname, Rachel could have kicked Jennie, who’d already sailed out of the room. It was Susan who said, a little uncomfortably, having seen Rachel’s glare, ‘It’s just a pet name, that’s all.’

‘But Cinders?’ There was a note in his voice that told Rachel he wasn’t going to let this drop.

Silently calling Jennie every name under the sun, Rachel sighed before saying resignedly, ‘I’ve two older sisters, that’s all.’

‘And you don’t get on with them? Or are they ugly?’

Rachel stared hard at Zac and he stared back. She could tell he was trying to keep a straight face in view of her antagonism. ‘I get on with them just fine and they are far from ugly.’ The understatement of the year, she thought wryly. She had been foolish enough to follow her sisters to the same university and within days some wit had dubbed her Cinders, a tongue-in-cheek play on the fairy-tale. Somehow the nickname had stuck and within a couple of weeks everyone had forgotten her real name. Even Jennie and Susan had adopted it, but she knew with them it was said with warm affection. And she didn’t mind. Normally.

The handsome brow wrinkled. ‘Then why—?’

She shrugged as she rose to her feet. ‘Lisa and Claire are outstandingly beautiful; I suppose someone thought it was clever. I’ll just give Jennie a hand with the dinner.’

She left before he could make a comment.




Chapter Two


RACHEL found dinner a trying affair. But not Jennie and Susan. They positively sparkled. In fact, Susan seemed to have completely forgotten she was on the verge of becoming engaged to her long-standing—and extremely patient—boyfriend, Henry. Rachel liked Henry and she didn’t think he’d appreciate Susan’s fluttering eyelashes as she gazed at Zac.

Still, it was none of her business.

She told herself this during Jennie’s delicious shepherd’s pie—that was another thing about Jennie, she was a fabulous cook—and also during dessert, which was equally fabulous. By the coffee and mints stage of the meal, her eyes felt gritty and her head ached. She had never felt so tense in the whole of her life. The trouble was, she was aware of Zac Lawson in a way she hadn’t experienced before. Even when her eyes weren’t directly on him—and she’d taken care that was the case for most of the time—she found herself registering every slight movement, every turn of his head or quirk of his lips. It was annoying and irritating but her nerves seemed sensitised to a humiliating degree in his presence. And for the life of her she didn’t know why.

She had said very little throughout the meal but the other three had more than made up for her lack of conversation. She didn’t think anyone had noticed her quietness, so it came as a shock when Zac turned to her, coffee cup in hand, and said softly, ‘So, Rachel, I know Jennie’s a fashion buyer and Susan works in a lab—what do you do?’

She tried to get beyond the fact that she felt the golden gaze was drawing her in and answer coherently. ‘I’m in marketing.’

He nodded. ‘Enjoy it?’

‘Very much.’ Her voice emerged in a husky croak and she quickly cleared her throat. ‘I wouldn’t want to do anything else.’ Of course, she might have to if Jeff sacked her and wouldn’t give her a reference after today’s fiasco.

‘What sort of thing are you involved in?’ he asked, as though he really wanted to know and wasn’t just being polite. Then again, he’d been equally interested in Jennie and Susan. He was clearly a man who could make the woman he was with—or in this case talking to—feel she was the only one who mattered. Giles had been the same. That type mostly were, she supposed.

She gave a brief—very brief—outline of her job and then rose to her feet before he could pursue the conversation. ‘I hope you don’t mind but I’ve got a headache,’ she said, her gaze sweeping the three of them, ‘and I think I’ll turn in. It was nice meeting you, Zac.’ She allowed her eyes to rest on him for the merest moment but it was enough to cause a quiver inside as the handsome face surveyed her. ‘I hope your business here goes well and the trip is successful,’ she added politely.

‘Thank you, Rachel.’ His voice was velvet smooth, but his eyes declared he was fully aware of the real reason she was retiring to her room and found it faintly amusing.

Well, he could laugh at her all he wanted but she did have a headache and she was blowed if she was going to sit there and endure another minute of his company. Her back stiff, hackles rising, she gave him an arctic smile and left the room as Jennie leaned forward and lightly touched his arm, bringing his attention back to her. ‘You must come to dinner again tomorrow if you’re free, Zac. You could come every night while you’re here, as far as we’re concerned. Isn’t that right, Susan?’

She didn’t wait to hear his reply, shutting the door on their tiny dining room-cum-study and standing in the hall for a moment as indignation swamped her. If that man was coming here every night, then she’d be eating out for the next three weeks. And this was her home as much as Jennie’s—her friend should have consulted her before making such a sweeping statement.

Rachel was feeling ashamed of herself even before she reached the bedroom and her penance was to lie tossing and turning and straining her ears. She heard the others leave the dining room and go into the sitting room then some music filtered through, along with the low buzz of conversation and laughter. Giggly, we’re-hanging-on-your-every-word laughter from Jennie and Susan, and a deep, rumbly male laugh now and again that made every nerve and sinew in her body stretch.

It was the longest two hours of her life before she heard the front door open and close, and then a few minutes later Jennie tiptoed into their room. A little while later, Jennie’s steady regular breathing told Rachel her friend was fast asleep; likewise Susan, as the muted snores through the wall proclaimed. Not for the first time she wondered how someone as ethereal and beautifully delicate as Susan could produce such a sound.

She must have drifted off to sleep eventually because she awoke at six o’clock, an hour before the alarm, after disturbing dreams she couldn’t remember but which left her with an uneasy, unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was still dark when she made her way to the bathroom, deciding to have a long hot bath to soak away the stresses of the day before. She filled the tub and added plenty of her favourite bath oil. If ever there was a morning to pamper herself, this was it. She didn’t know what she was going to face at work today, she told herself, and that was the reason—the only reason—for the butterflies in her stomach and the feeling that her world was out of kilter.

By seven o’clock she was dressed and made up and sitting at the table laid for three with a full coffee pot and a stacked plate of waffles, Jennie’s favourite breakfast. Her atonement for the night before. Not that the others would have minded her leaving, they’d probably hardly noticed, the way they’d been focusing on Zac, but this made her feel better.

‘Ooh, waffles, lovely.’ Jennie padded into the dining room and plonked herself down at the table, reaching for the pot of honey and liberally dousing her first waffle. ‘Why the treat? We normally only do this at weekends. Weekdays are toast and instant coffee. Not that I’m complaining, of course, far from it.’

‘I couldn’t sleep,’ Rachel said airily, smiling at Susan who had just appeared and whose response to the waffles was a carbon copy of Jennie’s. ‘So I thought I’d spoil us all.’

Both her friends were in their pyjamas and still-tousled haired without a scrap of make-up, and both looked gorgeous. Rachel sighed unconsciously.

‘What?’ Susan glanced at her. ‘What’s the matter?’

She thought about prevaricating and then said honestly, ‘I’d give my eye teeth to look like you two in the morning. Have either of you ever had blotchy morning skin or sticky-out hair or a spot that wasn’t there the night before?’

‘Loads of times.’ Susan grinned at her and reached for a waffle. ‘Sometimes I look like the wicked witch of the west.’

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

‘Anyway, it was you Zac was asking about last night,’ Susan continued casually, ‘in spite of Jennie doing her best to persuade him they were kissing cousins.’

Rachel’s heart stopped and then kick-started. She had to wait for a moment before she could control her voice enough to say, ‘Asking what exactly?’ in a faintly bored tone.

‘The normal things. These waffles are gorgeous, by the way.’

The normal things? What on earth were the normal things? ‘Like…?’ Rachel prompted carefully.

‘If there was a boyfriend around,’ Jennie put in. ‘Of course, he could just have been being friendly. We’d sort of filled him in about us.’

‘Yes, I think it took Jennie all of a few seconds to make the point I was seeing Henry and she was fancy-free,’ Susan said a touch acidly. ‘Along with how she’s just dying to see that new play at the Grecian theatre.’

Jennie grinned good-naturedly. ‘A girl has to do what a girl has to do, and you must admit he’s some sort of hunk. I don’t remember him being so drop-dead gorgeous when we were children.’

‘Probably because the last time you saw him you were a kid with pigtails and braces and more interested in horses than boys.’ Susan was petrified of horses and had been frankly incredulous when Jennie had told them one day she had ridden all the time as a child and had had her own pony called Primrose.

‘True.’ Jennie started on her third waffle. ‘But I’m very interested now and I haven’t given up on Zac yet. I mean, as family it’s my duty to show him around while he’s here and look after him.’ She tried an innocent smile that didn’t fool anyone.

Susan spluttered half her waffle onto her plate. ‘And we all know how you want to look after him,’ she said lewdly, rolling her eyes. ‘And cooking dinner for him is the tip of the iceberg.’

Jennie didn’t deny it. ‘I bet he’s great in bed,’ she said dreamily. ‘Sexy, experienced but considerate, you know?’

Rachel found she couldn’t sit and listen any longer. Abruptly, she said as she stood up, ‘I had a disaster at work yesterday and I need to be in early. I’m not at all sure I’ll still have a job soon, to be honest.’

‘Oh, no.’ Both girls were instantly all concern and comfort, and as she detailed what had happened they said the right things in the right places and were suitably scathing about the sales team. It helped how she was feeling. A bit.

As she left them, Rachel said offhandedly, ‘Is Zac having dinner with us again tonight?’ and hoped the jitters that had assailed her all morning since waking weren’t evident in her voice.

‘Nope, he’s busy.’ Jennie’s voice brightened as she added, ‘But I’ve got his number and I’ll try later for tomorrow. I might suggest treating him to dinner at Alfredo’s and then taking him to a nightspot. What do you think? Somewhere where the dance floor is small and cosy so we can get in the mood.’

‘I take it you mean a nightspot followed by his hotel room?’ Susan winked at Rachel, who had paused in the doorway.

‘Absolutely,’ Jennie agreed cheerfully. ‘Or just his hotel room.’

‘Jennie, you’re such an out-and-out tart.’

‘I know. Tarts have all the fun.’

Rachel left the other two amiably chaffing each other but she wasn’t smiling as she fetched her coat and handbag from her room. Jennie had never made any secret of the fact she slept with all her boyfriends and enjoyed sex, and although Susan was a little more choosy, she’d had a few partners too.

Here again she was the odd one out. She stared at her reflection in the long mirror on the bedroom wall. Jennie and Susan had thought it hilarious in their university days when she had said she was waiting for Mr Right before sleeping with a boy, but back then she had imagined he would come along before too long. And the truth of it was she had never met anyone who had made her pulse flutter and tempted her before Giles, so it hadn’t been too difficult to hang onto the dream. She’d had lots of boyfriends before him and had enjoyed kissing and cuddling and a bit of petting, but whenever they’d pressed for more she had known she would regret it the next morning. It was just the way she was made. She’d long ago come to terms with the fact that she was an oddity in her group of friends.

Rachel frowned at the brown-haired girl in the mirror. She wanted it to be special with the man she fell in love with, a forever thing, something that meant more than words could explain, but after Giles she was wondering if love as she saw it even existed. And she didn’t want to die an old maid.

What had kept her from sleeping with Giles? He’d certainly pestered her enough in the last couple of months before he had proposed, and she had imagined herself in love with him, hadn’t she? Her frown deepened. Hadn’t she?

Yes, she had thought she loved him but something hadn’t been quite…right. Even then some sixth sense must have been telling her he wasn’t what he seemed, that he had been projecting an image he’d thought she’d wanted him to be.

She shut her eyes tightly, biting on her lip. Jennie was right and she was wrong. She should have slept with every Tom, Dick and Harry and had fun; sex was just a pleasant pastime between a man and a woman and didn’t have to be an emotional forever thing. It didn’t have to lead to marriage and babies.

Her eyes opened. But it would need to for her. She simply couldn’t imagine opening her life and her body to a man and then cheerfully waving goodbye to him whenever the relationship ended. Jennie could. She couldn’t. End of story. She didn’t want to go through life alone but if she had to, she would. Loads of women concentrated on their career these days and chose autonomy and had rich and fulfilling lives. She just hadn’t imagined that was the way her life would go when she had been younger.

She took a deep breath. She could hear Jennie singing a pop song in the bathroom and smiled wryly to herself. The world did indeed ‘rain down men’ on Jennie; no sooner had her friend disposed of one man than another took his place. She envied her. Oh, how she envied her. No heart-searching, no agonising, no emotional baggage. Jennie ate when she was hungry, drank when she was thirsty and slept with a man when she wanted sex. And Jennie never felt that she was a failure and had missed the boat in a hundred and one ways.



At the end of the day Rachel still had a job, so she supposed she could count it a success. She’d gone for lunch with a group of girls from the office but although she had joined in the conversation and acted naturally, part of her—annoyingly—had kept repeating a post-mortem of the night before.

If she analysed it, she couldn’t quite understand why Zac Lawson had got under her skin the way he had. It hadn’t been so much what he’d said or done as the way he’d said and done it, she told herself. A certain inflexion, a tone of voice, a look, and perfectly mundane words could have a whole different meaning. Even simple words like ‘Thank you’ could change according to the way someone spoke or the expression on their face—it could be grateful or sarcastic or wry or a whole host of things. But however much she tried to wriggle out of it, she had to admit she’d been uncharacteristically belligerent from the second she’d set eyes on Jennie’s cousin. And she didn’t like herself for it.

She sighed as she pulled on her coat at the end of the day, after switching off her computer and tidying her desk. If she saw Zac again she’d be politely friendly, she determined, for Jennie’s sake. She didn’t like him—in fact, she’d never met a man she liked less—but that couldn’t be helped and Jennie needn’t know. And it wasn’t as if he would be around for long anyway; she could force herself to be civil to the poor man for the short time he was in the country if their paths crossed.

It was raining again when she walked down the steps of the office building and her umbrella was safely propped up in the hallstand at the flat. In the couple of years since she’d bought it, she’d only used it a handful of times, she reflected ruefully.

She had reached the pavement before she saw him, leaning nonchalantly against the wall of the building next door.

‘No umbrella again?’ The velvet voice with its faintest of Canadian undertones mocked her wide-eyed surprise. As he reached her, he sheltered her under his own black monster of an umbrella. ‘Do you actually like getting wet through?’

He’d slipped a casual arm round her waist as he’d drawn her out of the rain and she was aware of feeling very feminine against his broad-shouldered bulk. Then the dumbness brought about by shock faded and she found her voice. Carefully pulling back so there was a couple of inches between them, she said tightly, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? Rescuing a damsel in distress.’

‘I’m not in distress.’

‘You would be if you walked home in this lot.’

The rain was coming down faster now, thudding on top of the umbrella in great icy drops that annoyingly backed up his statement. Rachel swallowed hard. He smelt divine. Whatever his aftershave was, it was worth every penny. ‘How do you know where I work?’

Stupid question, she thought in the next millisecond.

His dry voice backed up the thought when he murmured, ‘Jennie. I rang her and asked for the address and told her I wanted to take you out to dinner.’

‘But—’ She stopped abruptly, warning herself to be careful.

‘What?’ His eyes under their thick black lashes surveyed her.

‘Jennie said you’d told her last night you were busy this evening.’ And she could just imagine Jennie’s reaction to the news when Zac had phoned. She stared into the strong face, her gaze taking in a slight cleft in his chin she hadn’t noticed the evening before. She shivered. But not with cold.

He shrugged. ‘My plans changed. It happens.’

‘I—I can’t have dinner with you.’ Don’t stutter and stammer, for goodness’ sake, she told herself disgustedly.

‘Why not?’ His tone was more interested than offended.

He was nothing if not direct. But there was no way she was going to be intimidated. She indicated her briefcase. ‘I have work to do tonight and it can’t wait.’

‘That’s OK, you can do it later.’ He smiled, a slow, curving smile that made her stomach roll over and took the arrogance out of his declaration. ‘You would eat at some time tonight, why not with me? And you’ll work better on a full stomach. I do.’

Hotly aware that several of her co-workers were giving them interested glances as they passed, she muttered, ‘Jennie’s free tonight, ask her. I know she’d love to go to dinner with you.’

‘I don’t want to have dinner with Jennie, Rachel. I want to have dinner with you,’ he said softly. ‘And don’t look at me as though I’m the Marquis de Sade. I’m suggesting dinner, that’s all, and I promise you’ll be safely delivered home later.’

Her mouth fell open and then snapped shut. How dared he? She was so taken aback by his effrontery she didn’t know what to say for a moment. Suggesting she was some nervous teenager scared at the thought of dinner with a man! ‘If we are talking straight here, you know full well why I won’t have dinner with you,’ she said tartly. ‘It must have been obvious Jennie likes you, surely? I wouldn’t do anything to upset or offend her.’

‘And I like Jennie. She’s my cousin, there are childhood memories and all that sentimental stuff. But I have no wish to date her, Rachel, and I won’t pretend otherwise. I made that clear to Jennie today and she was quite philosophical about it, I promise. Her heart remains intact.’

He was laughing at her again—she knew it even if the tawny eyes were serious. She wished she had the will to turn round and walk away without another word, to cut him dead, but curiously she couldn’t do it. Somehow she managed to make her voice cool and polite as she said, ‘Nevertheless, I don’t think dinner is a good idea.’

Part of her was still numb with disbelief that he wanted to have dinner with her, especially when Jennie had made it clear how she felt. And then a thought occurred. Maybe that was exactly why he had asked her? If he didn’t fancy Jennie then the best way to make it clear was to take another woman out.

‘I think dinner’s a wonderful idea,’ he said smoothly, ‘but let’s discuss it in comfort, shall we?’

Before she knew where she was he had bundled her into the taxi that had been waiting at the kerb. She hadn’t realised it was Zac’s and as he slid in beside her she was tempted to exit the other side, but something in the hard male face told her he would simply haul her back in. She wouldn’t put anything past him, she told herself bitterly before she said, ‘I’d like to go to the flat, please.’ She glared at him defiantly.

‘And you shall. Later.’

Rachel hated the mocking lift to his voice. She listened as he gave the name of a famous restaurant a few blocks away to the driver. It cost an arm and a leg to eat there.

‘This could be termed kidnapping, you know,’ she said stiffly.

His irritating eyebrows—irritating because they had a way of arching up in a manner guaranteed to provoke—rose. ‘Surely not,’ he murmured lazily, turning to survey her with one arm along the back of the seat behind her head. He was wearing a heavy black overcoat, which intensified his dark maleness, and Rachel breathed out carefully. ‘I’m a stranger to your city and I’m asking you to spend a couple of hours with me over dinner, that’s all. A good meal, a nice wine and a little conversation.’

Now he was making her feel like a worm. Deliberately, no doubt.

‘If I had asked Jennie, she would have assumed the evening would end in bed. It would have sent all the wrong signals and maybe caused a problem. I didn’t want that. But I did want some company. Is that so terrible?’

She stared at him and his eyebrows did it again. Knowing she’d been beaten by an expert, she gave it one last try. ‘And what about the problem my having dinner with you might cause between Jennie and myself?’

He smiled a little grimly. ‘Jennie knows you don’t like me very much. I doubt she’ll lose any sleep tonight.’

She could feel the colour flooding her cheeks but couldn’t do anything about it. She wasn’t going to deny it, though. After a moment, she said carefully, ‘If you think that’s how I feel, why would you want to spend some time with me?’

He tilted his head back and fixed her with the disturbingly beautiful eyes. Now he was so close she could see the golden brown had deep tawny flecks in it, like one of the big cats you saw on wildlife programmes. Combined with the thick black lashes, it made his eyes mesmerising.

‘I like a challenge,’ he said simply. ‘That’s all.’

‘Oh.’ No one could accuse him of unnecessary sweet talk.

‘I’d like to bet that once you get to know me a little, you’ll find I’m quite a reasonable sort of guy,’ he continued, so seriously she suspected he was mocking her again. ‘You might even like me.’

Surprisingly she wanted to smile but firmly quelled the impulse. If there was one thing Zac Lawson didn’t need, it was encouragement. ‘You’re very sure of yourself.’

‘And that’s something you don’t like.’ Suddenly there was no amusement under the surface. ‘Was he like that?’

‘He?’ She’d frozen and she saw the cat eyes registering the fact. Careful, she warned herself. Don’t let you guard down.

‘This guy who let you down so badly,’ he said quietly.

She didn’t have to ask this time. ‘Jennie,’ she stated stiffly. She could strangle her. What else had Jennie said?

He didn’t deny it. ‘She said some guy led you up the garden path, that’s all. No details except you’re well rid of him.’

That said it all really. ‘It’s past history,’ she said briefly, hoping he would take the hint. ‘Finished with.’

He surveyed her for a moment more and then, to her amazement, stretched his long legs, saying lazily, ‘They never make these things with enough leg room. For me, that is. Now, this restaurant was personally recommended and I understand they do a terrific 20-ounce steak with pepper sauce, but I’m reserving judgement. The steaks back home are second to none.’

It took her a moment to accept she was off the hook. A little shakily, she murmured, ‘I hope they do smaller ones too.’

Again his eyes locked on to hers. ‘They will do whatever you require them to do, Rachel.’ A glimmer of a smile touched the firm lips. ‘I will make sure of it.’

She nodded, turning to look out of the window but without really seeing the brightly lit shop windows and scurrying commuters with their umbrellas. Funnily enough, she had no doubt whatsoever that people would always do what Zac Lawson told them and it was far from reassuring.




Chapter Three


RACHEL had heard about the restaurant Zac had chosen but had never ventured inside its exalted doors, mainly because it was the kind of place that didn’t print prices on its menus and didn’t stock a bottle of wine under forty pounds or more. It was still early, only half past six, but quite a few of the tables were occupied as they were shown to a secluded alcove where they could see the whole dining area but remain private. She was vitally conscious of the other customers and extremely thankful she’d decided to wear her new and expensive suit today and bring out her Gucci shoes and bag—mainly to instil confidence when facing Jeff. As it was, he had been somewhat sheepish, clearly regretting his outburst the day before and listening to her explanation about the sales team without interrupting.

‘Fancy a cocktail while we look at the menu?’ At her nod Zac raised his hand and a waiter appeared like a genie out of a bottle. She listened to him order two champagne cocktails and then returned her gaze to the enormous embossed menu the waiter had placed in her hand after she’d been seated.

The menu was printed in several different languages but the words blurred as her head swam. It was hard to take in that she was sitting in these sumptuous surroundings with Zac Lawson. She hadn’t known he existed twenty-four hours ago, but from the moment she’d met him he’d invaded her thoughts whether she was awake or asleep. Which was difficult to come to terms with.

She took a deep breath as the cocktail waiter reappeared, thanking him as he placed a champagne flute in front of her. Zac held out his own glass so she was forced to do the same, and as they touched, he murmured, ‘To a pleasant evening.’ And then he smiled, adding meekly, ‘Is that acceptable?’

She couldn’t help smiling back. ‘I guess.’

‘At last,’ he said, very softly.

‘Sorry?’ She stared at him, puzzled.

‘I’ve been waiting for that first real smile.’ He tilted his head slightly as he studied her. ‘I wasn’t wrong.’

Was he going to be this enigmatic all night? ‘Wrong?’

‘I knew your smile would light up your face.’

That was so something Giles would have come out with. She knew her face had stiffened but she couldn’t do anything about it. Charming, and delivered in such a way it didn’t sound cheesy.

‘Whoops, I take it I’ve made another mistake. You’re a woman who doesn’t like compliments,’ he said quietly.

Rachel stared at him for a moment as she tried to formulate a reply. ‘I like them if they’re genuine,’ she said at last, and she didn’t care that it sounded rude.

‘And you think I wasn’t being genuine?’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Interesting. Very interesting.’

Had he taken lessons in being aggravating? She lifted her chin, determined not to ask him what he meant this time, and took a sip of her cocktail. It was delicious. She’d had what had passed for a champagne cocktail before but it hadn’t tasted anything like as good. This was in a league all of its own.

Zac’s gaze had returned to his menu and after another sip she put her glass down and focused on the choice of food. By the time the ever-attentive waiter, who’d been hovering nearby, glided to the table she was able to order the smoked salmon and bean salad, followed by grilled chicken with honey-glazed figs in a manner that declared she was perfectly in control.

‘No steak?’ Zac asked softly.

‘No, I prefer chicken.’ Ridiculous, because she would probably have had a small steak but for him suggesting it earlier. She shook her head mentally at herself, marvelling that there was a whole side to her personality she hadn’t known about, and a side she wasn’t particularly proud of. She had to get a grip.

Zac ordered the smoked salmon too, followed by his 20-ounce steak, along with a bottle of wine from the wine waiter, and then settled back in his seat, a faint gleam in his eyes. It wasn’t a gleam that inspired confidence and Rachel knew she’d been right to be wary when he said, ‘Are you always so prickly?’

‘Prickly? I’m not prickly,’ she said immediately.

‘Defensive, then. Wary. Call it what you will.’

‘I’m not—’ She stopped abruptly. She was so tense, her muscles ached. Something had to give, and considering he really hadn’t done anything wrong it was her. She forced her vocal cords to form coherent words. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said carefully, ‘I don’t mean to be. This hasn’t been the greatest year and perhaps I just need the Christmas break more than I knew.’

His eyes roamed over her face for a moment, and when he spoke there was no amusement in his smoky voice. ‘I’m sorry too,’ he said very quietly, ‘that it hasn’t been a good year for you. Do you want to talk about it?’

She shrugged in what she hoped was a casual way. ‘I got involved with someone who wasn’t what he seemed, to put it mildly. A couple of days after he proposed, his wife came to see me.’ She pulled a face. ‘Big surprise.’

‘You didn’t know he was married?’ He’d sat up straighter.

‘Of course not,’ she said, shocked.

He nodded. ‘No, of course not,’ he murmured, almost to himself. ‘How long had you been seeing him?’

‘A few months.’ She didn’t want to do this. ‘Still, lucky escape,’ she said with forced lightness. ‘At least I was able to walk away without any messy complications, unlike his wife.’ She turned her head, glancing round the discreetly lit room. ‘This is a lovely place. If the food is as good as the decor, it will be wonderful.’

The rain was beating against the windows of the restaurant but in the womb-like surroundings all was soft music and muted conversation, the glass chandeliers overhead, fine linen tablecloths and gleaming silver cutlery and crystal creating an aura of cosseted comfort. Another world.

This time he didn’t allow her to change the conversation so easily. Quietly, he said, ‘Do you still care for him?’

She brushed her hair off her shoulder and looked straight into his eyes. ‘No, not in the least. Within weeks I was quite clear about that, if nothing else. I just couldn’t…’ She paused, amazed her tongue had run away with her.

‘What?’ He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes narrowed.

She swallowed. ‘I couldn’t believe I could be with someone for so long and not suspect anything, not realize it was all false, make-believe. Giles was so plausible, so…’ She shook her head. ‘Big learning curve,’ she said brightly. ‘And what about you? Is there someone back in Canada? Someone special?’

Calm golden eyes held her. ‘No,’ he said.

Rachel reached for her champagne flute and finished the rest of her cocktail. It had been a big mistake to come here with Zac tonight. He was too…Her brain failed to come up with a definition and she set her glass down carefully. Too everything. ‘So what’s the business that’s brought you over to England?’ she asked, when the silence became uncomfortable. ‘If it’s not confidential, of course.’

He’d relaxed back in his seat once more and now he smiled. ‘It’s part business, part pleasure, to be truthful.’

She felt a frisson of something she couldn’t name at the word ‘pleasure’ and hoped desperately the golden eyes hadn’t noticed anything. This really was ridiculous.

‘I’m here to liaise with a large manufacturing group about an advance in new technology—pick their brains, if you will. My father is aware the world is changing fast and the glass industry constantly needs to change with it. He’s something of a visionary, if the truth be known, but he’s rarely wrong. And I liked the idea of coming back to the old country and seeing again where I was born, looking up the old haunts and family too, of course. I haven’t had a holiday for years, so I don’t feel too guilty.’

She returned his smile, hers just a bit shaky, and as the waiter placed their first courses in front of them, she was glad of something to do with her hands. She didn’t want to get to know Zac Lawson, she thought, panic-stricken. It was much too dangerous. He was the type of man it was far better to keep at a safe distance. Like at the other side of the world.

She took her first bite of the smoked salmon and bean salad. The thin strips of fish, cooked beans and salad were enhanced by a mustard dressing and dusting of mozzarella, and her taste buds exploded. ‘This is gorgeous.’ She raised her eyes to see Zac studying her. ‘Absolutely gorgeous.’

‘Just what I was thinking,’ he murmured softly.

Again, it ought to have sounded cheesy but it didn’t, which was more scary than anything else. She took another bite of smoked salmon and wondered again how she had got herself into this mess. Act naturally, she told herself firmly. One of your strengths is being a good communicator, so communicate. Raising her head, she said brightly, ‘I take it you’re intending to be home in time for Christmas? Your business will be finished by then?’

‘Sure thing. Christmas is a time for being where the heart is.’ The tawny eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled.

Nice sentiment—if you knew where your heart was. Oh, stop the cynicism! she thought irritably. ‘It sounds like you’re close to your parents. Any siblings?’

‘Nope, just me. They wanted more but it didn’t happen and they chose not to go down the medical route. I spent lots of time at Jennie’s house during my childhood, though, so I didn’t miss out or get spoilt. What about you? Having two sisters must have been fun. Do you see much of them now you’re in London?’

‘Not a lot,’ she said carefully. ‘My sisters are near in age so they’ve always tended to be a closed unit, more like twins really. They’re married now and live a few doors from each other.’

He nodded. ‘What about your parents?’

‘My father died when I was little more than a baby, I don’t remember him at all. My mother…’ She hesitated. ‘She opened a flower shop after my father’s death and has always worked hard to make it a success, so I didn’t see too much of her. My grandma more or less brought the three of us up, but she died a few years ago after a short illness.’

‘And you miss her,’ he said softly, his eyes intent on her face.

Oh, yes. She dreaded to think of the adult she might have become but for her grandmother. For every negative spoken about her by her mother, her grandma had spoken a loving positive. In the same way she’d always known her mother didn’t like her very much, she’d known she was her grandmother’s favourite and it had been balm to a little girl’s bruised heart. ‘Yes, I miss her,’ she said quietly. More than words could express.

Since her grandmother’s death just before she had left university and she and Jennie and Susan had come to London, she had stopped returning home to Kent for Christmas. There had been no point. Her sisters were wrapped up in their own lives and virtual strangers to her now, and in previous years her mother had spent every Christmas re-emphasising in word and deed what a failure she considered her youngest daughter. Without her beloved grandmother as a buffer, home would have been unendurable.

From the first, she had maintained she was perfectly happy to stay at the flat and enjoy a quiet Christmas, but her friends wouldn’t hear of it. Jennie and Susan had taken it in turns to invite her to their respective homes, and as both girls came from large friendly families the Christmas break had turned into something to look forward to rather than dread. Strangely, though, she found she missed her grandmother more at Christmas time than any other. Or perhaps it wasn’t so strange.

Zac brought her attention back to himself when he said, ‘Christmas in my home town is always a big deal. Snow, carols, church on Christmas Day, followed by too big a lunch so we have to walk the dogs for hours in the afternoon to work up an appetite for high tea.’ His voice was easy, relaxed, but she was aware his gaze was tight on her face.





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