Читать книгу Sultry Nights - Эбби Грин, Annie West - Страница 11

THE following day at midday Kate sat in the lobby of the impossibly chic hotel where she’d been staying. She’d already said goodbye to the crew who’d been with her for the shoot. They were all leaving on an earlier flight, heading to London and their next assignment. Her nerves were coiled tight, making her belly constrict. The thought of the lunch ahead was daunting, to say the least.

And then, as if pulled by an invisible thread, Kate’s head came up and she saw Tiarnan silhouetted in the doorway. A huge, imposing figure. Not even giving her time to collect herself, prepare herself. Kate’s nerves intensified to a crescendo as she stood up jerkily. Tiarnan strode authoritatively towards her—a man clearly on his own turf. Confident, powerful.

He was dressed in black trousers and a white shirt, open at the neck, his dark skin visible and the strong bronzed column of his throat. Kate hadn’t been sure what to wear, and her wardrobe was limited, so she’d gone for a plain black shirt dress and accessorised it with a bright red scarf around her throat. She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail, trying to project an image that said friend and not lover. Except right now she felt as if her scarf was strangling her as Tiarnan came to a halt right in front of her. Too close. Especially when he took her hands and leant forward to kiss her on both cheeks.

His scent wound through her, and she felt that quiver between her legs again. He had his own very uniquely male scent. She’d always been aware of it. He was one of the few men she knew who didn’t douse himself in cologne. Kate had developed an acute sensitivity to smell after years of having to promote various perfumes, almost to the point that strong scents made her feel ill. But Tiarnan’s scent was simply soap and water and him. Headier than any manufactured scent.

He let her hands go and they tingled. He looked around her. ‘Where are your things?’

Kate fought to sound calm, aloof. ‘The concierge has my bag. I’ve arranged for a car to pick me up from here to go to the airport later.’

Tiarnan shook his head and took her by the elbow to lead her over to the desk. ‘That won’t be necessary.’

In shock, Kate heard him instruct the concierge to cancel the cab and get her bag. The man jumped straight away, clearly recognising Tiarnan. She rounded on him, incensed that he was already dictating. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

He looked down at her, leaning nonchalantly against the concierge desk. ‘I have to go to the airport later too. You might as well come with me. It’ll give us more time together.’

Kate realised something then. Suspicion sparked from her eyes and she crossed her arms. ‘Where’s Rosie?’

Tiarnan straightened as Kate’s small case was delivered by the concierge, who all but bowed to Tiarnan.

He took Kate’s arm again, giving her no choice but to trot after him unless she wanted to create a scene. She felt slightly bewildered. She wasn’t used to seeing this side of Tiarnan. They emerged, and Kate saw a Range Rover and realised that he still hadn’t answered her question. He opened the passenger door and turned to her, the intense blue of his eyes rendering her speechless.

‘Rosie’s at home. I thought we’d have lunch there.’

She chafed at his easy dominance, at the feeling of being backed into a corner. Tiarnan still had a hand on her elbow and he helped her into the passenger seat. Then, after putting her case in the back, he came around and got into the front, pulling away from the hotel with smooth ease.

The journey to Tiarnan’s home didn’t take long. It was in the Salamanca area of Madrid, one of the oldest barrios and home to some of the most exclusive houses, shops and hotels. It was just off Calle de Serrano, near a charming park, where he turned into a set of huge wrought-iron gates which opened slowly.

Kate looked around her, seriously impressed. Madrid was one of her favourite cities—it always had been. She loved its vibrancy, its history, the café culture, and could spend days wandering around, taking in the museums and galleries. Even now, though it was well into autumn, people were strolling in the lingering warm sunshine. Tiarnan waited to let a woman pass with a baby in a pushchair, and Kate had a sudden vision of what it might be like to live here, have this life. Be that woman with the pushchair.

She glanced at Tiarnan’s profile as he drove forward when the gates were fully open. He looked distant, and not a little harsh. A shiver went through her even as she felt hot inside. He’d never be part of a dream like that. He’d made it clear a long time ago that as far as he was concerned he’d done the family thing. Sorcha had often told Kate how strongly Tiarnan felt about never marrying again. How Rosie had fulfilled any need he might have had for children.

‘Here we are.’

Kate’s turbulent thoughts came to an abrupt halt when she realised that they’d stopped outside a huge baroque townhouse. The colour of warm sandstone, it had a crumbling grandeur, with wooden shutters held back from gleaming windows. Bright flowers burst from ornate wrought-iron window box railings and from pots set around the steps and door. Trees surrounded the house, so that it seemed to nestle into the foliage. It was beautiful.

Tiarnan came around to join her. He carried her case in one hand. Kate asked suspiciously, ‘Why are you taking it out of the car?’

Tiarnan’s blue gaze mocked her for her suspicion. ‘Because my driver Juan will be taking us to the airport.’

‘But how do you know what time I have to be there?’ Kate was struggling not to give in to Tiarnan’s effortless domination.

His mouth quirked and her belly flipped.

‘Because I know everything, Kate. Stop worrying. I’m not going to jump on you like some callow youth. You’re quite safe.’

Just then the massive front door opened, and Kate saw a small dark-haired figure appear. Genuine emotion rushed through her. Tiarnan was forgotten for a moment.

‘Rosie!’

Kate started forward instinctively, but then faltered. Rosie wasn’t running to greet her as Kate remembered she’d used to do. She was standing there looking very serious. In an instant Kate curbed her instinct to go and hug Rosie, sensing that the child had changed since she’d seen her last. And it had been a while. Rosie hadn’t come to Molly’s christening. Instead, when Kate reached her she just smiled and bent to kiss her formally. She pulled back and looked into dark, wary eyes, wondering what had made her so cautious.

‘Rosie, you’re all grown up since I last saw you. You’re becoming quite the young lady.’

Kate couldn’t help tucking a strand of long dark hair behind her ear. Rosie’s cheeks flushed pink as she seemed to fight something, and then she mumbled an incoherent reply before turning and running back inside—presumably to her room.

Kate sensed Tiarnan behind her, sensed his impatience. ‘I’m sorry about that. Rosie is going through a difficult patch. She spent time with her mother recently, which never ends well.’

Kate’s heart went out to the child. She could remember her own trials and tribulations, how her mother hadn’t wanted anything to do with the fact that her daughter was growing and developing into a young woman. She could remember the turmoil she’d felt. Maybe Rosie was going through the same thing? From what Kate could remember, Stella Rios, Rosie’s mother, had never been warm.

She looked at Tiarnan. ‘It’s fine. You don’t have to apologise.’

A buxom housekeeper bustled into the hall, and Kate tried to keep track of the rapid Spanish as Tiarnan introduced them. The woman’s name was Esmerelda, and Kate greeted her warmly in Spanish. She could sense Tiarnan looking at her and turned.

‘I forgot that you speak Spanish.’

Kate shrugged and coloured slightly. ‘Enough to get by.’

She had spent a lot of time working in Spain some years previously, and had kept up Spanish classes when she’d returned to the US.

He regarded her for another long moment, and then gestured with an arm for her to precede him. ‘We have some time before lunch is served—let me show you around.’

Kate duly followed Tiarnan through the house, her awe mounting as he revealed a sumptuously formal reception area that led into a dining room which could seat up to twenty people. But just when she was starting to feel too intimidated he drew them away, towards the other side of the house and a much more relaxed area: a comfortable sitting room, complete with overstuffed couches and shelves heaving with books, a widescreen TV, videos and DVDs on the shelves alongside it.

Something in Kate’s chest clenched. This was truly a home. Warm and inviting, with colourful rugs on the exposed stone floor.

At the back of the house Tiarnan revealed an idyllic garden with sunlight glinting off an aquamarine pool set among the bushes. A slice of paradise right in the middle of one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world.

‘You have a beautiful home, Tiarnan.’

Kate said the words but they felt ineffectual, stilted. How many women had stood here and told him that?

Tiarnan was looking around them. ‘Yes,’ he said, almost absently.

Kate shot him a look but he was already moving, walking back towards the house. With a last lingering look at the stunning peaceful garden, Kate followed.

Tiarnan heard Kate’s soft footfall behind him. Something forceful and inarticulate was rising in his chest. He’d stood outside and showed her his idyllic paradise, and yet for the first time since he’d bought it he was aware of something inherently empty about it. The image of Rosie appearing at the front door came into his mind’s eye. There had been something so lonely about that image too …

He didn’t know what it was that was suddenly making him so introspective. He had Kate here. He had no grand plan where she was concerned, apart from getting her into his bed. When it came to women he found it easy to detach. But right now he was feeling anything but detached. He assured himself that it was just because he knew Kate already—they had a connection. And that was why she was here. He was going to use whatever means necessary to show her that he wanted her, to get her to admit to her own desire …

Lunch was in a smaller, less formal dining room just off the huge kitchen. Esmerelda was bustling back and forth with delicious food and warm smiles, but that didn’t help dissipate the slight tension in the atmosphere. Despite the fact that Tiarnan was being utterly charming and mesmeric in a way that made Kate feel extremely flustered.

Being the focus of his attention, albeit with Rosie there too, was nothing short of overwhelming. The coiled energy in his taut muscular body connected with hers and she felt jumpy. It was a monumental struggle just to try and keep up with the easy enough conversation.

Rosie was largely silent and monosyllabic when Kate tried to talk to her. Kate had realised that the faint underlying tension was between father and daughter, and she guessed it went deeper than Tiarnan had let on. Rosie was picking at her food, and when she asked in a small, ever so polite voice if she could leave the table, Tiarnan said tightly, ‘You’ve barely said two words to Kate.’

Kate directed a quick smile at Rosie and said, ‘I don’t mind. She can go if she wants. I remember how boring it can be, listening to adults.’

Rosie immediately jumped up and ran out, her chair scraping on the ground as she did so, making Kate flinch slightly. Tiarnan made as if to go after her, but Kate caught his arm, jerking her hand away again when she felt the muscles bunch under the thin material of his shirt. ‘Really, it’s fine, Tiarnan. I don’t mind.’

He sat down again and sighed heavily. ‘When we moved here from the outskirts of Madrid I changed her school. It’s not been the easiest of transitions, and I’m currently public enemy number one.’

Kate thought of Stella again—Tiarnan’s ex-wife. She’d never really known why the marriage had ended, and Sorcha had never talked about it either, but then Tiarnan’s marriage break-up and subsequent fatherhood had coincided with a hard time in Sorcha’s life … Kate’s attention had naturally been taken up with her friend. In all honesty she’d used every and any excuse to avoid talking or thinking about Tiarnan. And the fact that she was thinking about his marriage now irritated her intensely.

Just as that thought was highlighting the juxtaposition between how she’d always so carefully protected herself around this man and how much he’d already reeled her in, the door opened and a woman came in—someone Kate hadn’t yet met. She was middle-aged, and her face was white and tense. She looked as if she’d been crying.

Tiarnan stood up. ‘Paloma, this is Kate—an old friend.’

Kate stood and extended her hand. As the woman came in it was extremely obvious that she’d been crying. She shook Kate’s hand and managed a distracted watery smile.

Tiarnan was looking from her to Kate. ‘This is Paloma—Rosie’s nanny.’ Belatedly noticing Paloma’s distress, he said, ‘What is it? Something with Rosie?’

Kate could feel the tension spike, and guessed in an instant that Rosie had probably been giving Paloma a hard time too.

The woman shook her head and fresh tears welled,

‘No, it’s not Rosie, it’s my son. He’s been involved in an accident and he’s been taken to hospital. I’m sorry, Mr Quinn, but I have to go there immediately.’

Kate put her arm around the woman’s shoulders instinctively as Tiarnan quickly reassured her. ‘I’ll have Juan take you. Don’t worry, Paloma, you’ll be taken care of.’

‘Thank you, Mr Quinn. I’m so sorry.’

He waved aside her apology, and with a look to Kate strode out of the room to make arrangements. Kate did her best to help out. They went to Paloma’s room and Kate helped her pack.

A short while later, as they stood on the steps and watched Tiarnan’s chauffeur-driven Mercedes pull away with Paloma in the back, he turned and ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’m sorry, Kate. I invited you for a quiet lunch and it’s been nothing but drama. I didn’t intend for it to be like this.’

Kate looked up into those glittering blue eyes and felt out of her depth. Tiarnan had taken control of the situation and despatched Paloma with an assurance that she must have as much time off as she needed. She’d heard him make a call to the hospital where Paloma’s son was to make sure that he was getting the best of treatment, arranging for him to be moved to a private room. Kate knew that he would personally oversee any payment. His innate goodness and generosity made her feel vulnerable.

She shrugged a slim shoulder. ‘That’s OK. It couldn’t be helped.’

A shadow passed over Tiarnan’s face and he swore softly under his breath. He looked out past her to where the car had disappeared.

‘What is it?’

He looked back to her. ‘I’m due in Dublin this evening, for the AGM of the board of Sorcha’s outreach programme. I promised Sorcha and Romain I’d do it for them while the baby is so small.’

‘Oh …’ Kate would instinctively have asked what she could do to help, but she was due on her flight back to New York herself. She knew how important Sorcha’s outreach youth centre was to her. And while she’d no doubt Romain would jump on a plane to Dublin for an important meeting like this for his wife, she knew Tiarnan wouldn’t want to let them down.

‘Can’t Esmerelda help out?’

Tiarnan shook his head. ‘She’s a lot older than she looks, and while she does live here, in an apartment out the back, her husband is old too and needs taking care of … I couldn’t ask her to take on Rosie.’

‘Your mother?’ Kate knew that Mrs Quinn had moved back to her native Madrid as soon as Sorcha had left home.

‘She’s down in the south, staying with her sister until the spring.’

‘Oh …’

‘The other problem is that I’m due to fly straight to New York from Dublin tomorrow. I’m taking part in talks with a senator, the mayor and one of the major banks. It’s something I couldn’t get out of even if I wanted to …’

Kate’s conscience pricked her. She had to say something, because she knew when she got back to New York she didn’t have any work lined up. She’d told her formidable agent, Maud Harriday, that she wanted to start scaling back her work commitments, and Maud with typical brusqueness had declared that all she needed was a holiday. So now, for the first time in a long time, Kate had a few clear weeks of … nothing.

‘Look, I don’t have any work lined up for the next …’ she stopped herself revealing too much ‘… the next while. I could stay here and watch Rosie if you want. I mean, if that’s OK with you?’

Kate couldn’t decipher the expression on Tiarnan’s face. She knew he was fiercely protective of his daughter. Perhaps he didn’t trust her? That thought lanced her.

‘I’d enjoy having an excuse to stay in Madrid—and a chance to see Rosie properly again …’

Tiarnan looked down at Kate, taking in her clear blue gaze. She was surprising him again. Offering to take on responsibility for Rosie like this. A few lovers after his divorce had hinted at wanting to get to know Rosie, to try and become more intimate. He instinctively wanted to say no to Kate’s suggestion, but found himself stopping. The immediate feeling that he could trust her with Rosie surprised him.

Kate saw him deliberate, and felt compelled to insist on helping him. She refused to investigate that impulse.

‘Tiarnan, you’re stuck. If you want to go to Dublin in two hours and New York tomorrow, who can you get to mind Rosie at such short notice? And you know if you say you can’t go then Romain will have to leave Sorcha on her own with the baby.’

She was right. Tiarnan knew if Kate wasn’t here, offering this solution, he would have to take Rosie with him on his trip—and that was never ideal. Especially when her routine was of paramount importance right now. And Kate wasn’t some random stranger. Tiarnan knew that she’d spent time with Rosie whenever Sorcha had looked after her for him before, and his discreet security team would make sure that Rosie and she were well protected. Rosie was an independent, mature girl for her age, so she really just needed to have company. Esmerelda would be on hand too. But …

He seemed to be considering something—and then he took Kate by surprise, moving closer. She froze.

He cocked his head slightly. ‘You wouldn’t be doing this just to avoid me, would you, Kate? Now that you know I’m going to New York? Or even because you’re hoping that this will foster some kind of longer-lasting position in my life?’

Kate clenched her fists, surprised by the strength of the hurt that rushed through her at this evidence of his cynicism, and felt anger at his arrogant assumption that her capitulation was a foregone conclusion. His mention of New York hadn’t even registered—or had it? The evidence that she might have been faced with his relentless determination again within days sent a flare of awareness through her. She damped it down, hating that he might see something.

‘No, Tiarnan. Believe it or not, I’m just trying to help.’

She saw a suspicious light flash in his eyes, as if he didn’t trust her assertion. He came even closer and lifted a hand, trailing a finger over the curve of her cheekbone and down to the place where her jaw met her neck. Since when had that small area become so sensitive that she wanted to turn her face into his hand and purr like a cat?

‘Good,’ he said softly. ‘Because I had been planning on asking you out for dinner in New York. We can discuss it when I get back.’

Suspicion slammed into Kate, clearing her lust-hazed mind as she remembered the frenetic call from Maud about this assignment, the apparent urgency. She reached up and took down Tiarnan’s hand. It felt warm and strong and vital, but she forced herself to let it go and glared up at him. ‘Did you have anything to do with my being sent here for this impromptu shoot?’

Tiarnan crossed his arms and looked down at Kate, completely at ease. Smug. He shrugged minutely. ‘Not … exactly …’

Kate crossed her arms too, as suspicion turned into cold certainty and not a little fear at how Tiarnan was determined to manipulate her. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

His eyes turned steely. ‘It means that I might have encouraged the CEO of the luxury brand Baudé, who is a personal friend of mine, to hire you. I was aware he was looking for a suitable model …’

Shock spread through Kate—his influence had meant that within a week of seeing him in San Francisco he had managed to get her all the way across the world to Madrid, practically gift-wrapped on his doorstep. The realisation stunned her. Evidence of his determination made her feel funny inside—confused.

‘How dare you use me like that? I’m not some pawn you can just move around—’

Tiarnan took her hand, and her words halted and died.

‘Kate. You know I want you. I will do whatever it takes to convince you of that and get you to admit that you want me too.’

‘But … but …’ Kate spluttered. The effect of him just holding her hand was sending her pulse into overdrive. ‘That’s positively Machiavellian.’

He came closer and lifted her hand to his mouth, pressed a kiss to the underside of her wrist. ‘No. It’s called desire—and it’s a desire I’ve denied for a long, long time …’

Ten years. It hung there between them like an accusation.

‘Tiarnan,’ Kate said weakly. ‘It was so long ago … it was just a kiss … we’re not the same …’

‘So why does it feel like it was only yesterday, and that it was more than just a kiss?’

And right then, with Tiarnan holding her hand and standing so close, it slammed back into Kate with all the intensity as if it had been yesterday. It was exactly the same for her. The only problem was it had never diminished for her, while he’d been busy getting married, having a baby. Forgetting her. Until now. Because he was bored, or intrigued to know what he’d refused? Kate tried to pull her hand away, but he was remorseless, wouldn’t let go. She glared up at him, feeling panic rise, feeling inarticulate.

Tiarnan’s voice was eminently reasonable. ‘I may have suggested you to someone for a campaign. That’s all I did. I wanted to meet you here, show you that I meant what I said in San Francisco … and then in New York I was hoping that you’d agree to go out with me. Give us a chance.’ He grimaced. ‘What happened with Paloma today was out of even my control.’

Kate flushed and looked down for a moment. The panic was still there, but she fought it down. ‘Of course it is. You couldn’t have known that would happen.’

She looked up then, and finally managed to pull her hand from his. She stepped back to give herself space. But she knew it was useless. Tiarnan Quinn was fast filling every space within her and around her—as only he could.

‘Look, I’m offering to stay and watch Rosie till you get back. Apart from that …’ She shook her head. ‘I—’

Tiarnan put a finger to Kate’s mouth. ‘Just … think about it, OK?’

Kate looked into his eyes for a long moment, and what she saw there alternately scared the life out of her and made her want to wrap her arms around his neck and have him kiss her—exactly as she’d been wanting him to since the christening in France. Eventually, feeling weak, she nodded. It was only a small movement, but it seemed that Tiarnan was happy enough with that. She was afraid he’d seen some capitulation in her eyes that she wasn’t even aware of.

‘Good. And thank you for offering to stay.’ He stepped back too, and gestured for her to precede him back into the house. ‘I’d better see if Rosie’s OK with this, and fill you in on all the details of her routine.’

Kate walked back into the house and felt as if she was stepping over a line in the sand. She just hoped and prayed that someone would come along and divert Tiarnan’s attention in New York. And yet as soon as she had that thought the acid bile of jealousy rose. Kate was very afraid that when Tiarnan returned she wouldn’t have the strength to resist him …

Kate’s eyes were tired. She put down what she was working on and sat back in the couch for a moment, closing her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was waiting up for Tiarnan. He was due home at any time now. He’d been gone for three days.

Kate was all geared up to be clear and firm. She fully intended flying back to New York first thing in the morning. The thought of Rosie, though, made her heart clench. It had taken some time—a couple of days of Kate walking her to and from her new school nearby, chatting easily about this and that—for a sense of the familiar old accord to come back. And while it wasn’t exactly the way it had been, things were definitely thawing. Rosie clearly had a lot going on in her serious little head.

Earlier that evening, after Kate had bent down to kiss her goodnight, she’d been surprised and touched when a pair of skinny arms had crept around her neck and held on tight for a second. Rosie had said nothing, and Kate hadn’t pushed it, just crept out of the room, her heart swelling with emotion. Emotion she shouldn’t be allowing herself to feel for the little girl. Or her father.

Kate was surprised to admit to herself that in the past few days she’d felt an increasing sense of relaxation stealing over her. It had been so long since she’d slowed her pace. Stopping at the local café on her way home from seeing Rosie off to school each day, taking time to just read the paper had reminded her of how long it had been since she’d devoted any time to herself.

Sorcha had phoned earlier, and Kate hadn’t missed the open curiosity in her voice. Kate hated misleading her friend, keeping the real nature of what was going on with Tiarnan from her, but Sorcha was just too close, so she’d passed off the chain of events that had led her to Madrid as just coincidence. But it was no coincidence that she was sitting curled up on Tiarnan’s couch, waiting for him to come home, and no coincidence that was causing this churning mixture of excitement and turmoil in her belly …

Tiarnan stood at the door of the living room. The house was silent, warm. A sense of peace washed over him—the same peace he always felt when he got home and checked that Rosie was safe, tucked up in bed asleep. And yet tonight, after checking on her, that quality of peace was deeper, more profound.

One dim lamp was lit and on the couch was the curled-up figure of a woman. Kate. Here in his house. His. Satisfaction coursed through him. He walked in, the rug muffling his steps. She was asleep, hair tumbled over one shoulder in a bright coil of white-gold. His eyes travelled over her lissom form—what he could see of it in faded jeans and plaid button-down shirt. Her feet were bare, delicately arched, toenails painted with clear gloss. Desire was instant and burning within him.

He shrugged off his jacket and threw it onto the edge of the couch, sitting down beside Kate. She moved slightly in her sleep, sliding towards him, towards the depression he’d made. Tiarnan put an arm across the back of the couch and leant towards her face, which was turned towards him.

‘Kate,’ he whispered softly. She didn’t stir.

He’d never been turned on by sleeping women, usually preferring them awake and willing, but there was something so perfect about Kate in sleep, her cheeks flushed a slight pink, her mouth in a little moue, that he couldn’t resist the temptation to bend even closer and press his mouth to hers.

Kate knew she was dreaming, but it was too delicious a dream to wake herself from just yet. A man’s mouth was moving over hers enticingly, softly, as if coaxing a response. And, as if watching herself from outside her own body, she gave full rein to her imagination and let it be Tiarnan; let it be his hard, sensual mouth. It felt so good, so right, and on a sigh that seemed to draw in pure lust she opened her mouth against his.

She felt his deep moan of approval. It rumbled through her whole body, sensitising every point, making her breasts tighten, the tips harden into points. When his tongue sought entry to explore and tease, she smiled against his lips, her own tongue making a bold foray, tasting his, sucking it deep. She arched her body, wanting to feel more …

On some level, even while Kate knew she was dreaming, she was also very aware of the fact that she was in Madrid, in Tiarnan’s house, waiting up for him to come home from the US … As if she’d climbed too high in consciousness to stay where she’d been, the shocking realisation came that she was no longer dreaming … what was happening was very real. Tiarnan!

Kate’s eyes flew open, and at the same time she became aware of her heart racing and her breath coming hard and fast. She also became aware of slumberous blue eyes looking directly into hers. As if he’d sensed her wakefulness before she did, Tiarnan had moved back slightly. Her hands were on his shoulders, clutching them to her, not in the act of pushing him away. Her mouth felt bruised, sensitive. She remembered the hunger of that kiss just now. And yet amongst the shock and dismay that splintered her brain was pure joy at seeing him again.

It was all too much for her to process for a minute, seeing him here like this. She reacted against that feeling of joy and tried to push him away with all her might.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

She gave another huge push, but Tiarnan was like a rock and still far too close. His mouth quirked sexily and everything seemed to slam into Kate at once: the dimness of the room, his scent, his body so close to hers. Her wanton reaction.

‘Waking you with a kiss.’

She reacted violently to his voice, feeling acutely vulnerable—he’d taken deliberate advantage of her, and the more he did it, the less she could argue to him or herself that she was immune to him. If he knew how close this was to the fantasy she’d had for a long time …

She pushed again, feeling heat rise in her face. ‘Finding me asleep did not give you the right to molest me.’

Tiarnan finally rolled back and away, releasing her, but a mocking look on his face cut right through her flimsy attack.

‘Kate, believe me, I wasn’t—What the—?’ He suddenly jumped up like a scalded cat, holding something in his hand.

Kate immediately saw what it was.

‘What the hell is that?’ Genuine pain throbbed in his voice, and Kate allowed herself a small dart of pleasure; that would teach him.

She stood up and took the offending article from him. ‘It’s a knitting needle.’ She indicated the couch and the pile of knitting that had rolled off her lap when she’d fallen asleep. ‘I’m knitting a jumper for Molly, for Christmas.’

His mouth opened and closed. Kate saw a genuine lack of comprehension in his eyes, and then she looked down to where his hand still held his side, just above his trousers. A dark shape was flowering outwards through a small rip in his shirt, under his hand.

Shock slammed into Kate, turning her cold in a second. ‘Tiarnan—you’re bleeding.’

His mouth was a tight line. ‘It went right into me.’

Acting on pure instinct, and feeling a shard of fear rush through her, Kate reached out and ripped open the bottom of his shirt. The wound was a small puncture, but it was pumping blood, and when she looked up at Tiarnan he’d gone white. Too panicked to feel bemused at his obvious distaste for blood, Kate held his shirt to the wound and led him out to the kitchen, where she found the first aid kit under the sink.

She made him rest back on the huge wooden table as she opened his shirt all the way to tend to him. She felt shaky. ‘I’m so sorry, Tiarnan. I’d no idea you were leaning on the needle …’

He just grunted, and Kate busied herself stanching the blood. She applied pressure to a piece of cotton wool over the wound for a long moment, and looked at him warily. Colour had come back into his cheeks and his eyes were now glittering into hers.

He arched an incredulous brow. ‘Knitting?’

She smiled weakly. ‘It’s a hobby. Something I took up to pass the time backstage at the shows.’

‘Reading would have been too boring, I take it?’ His tone was as dry as toast.

She smiled again. ‘And smash the stereotype that all models are thick?’

A glint of humour passed between them, and suddenly Kate became very aware of the fact that Tiarnan was lounging back, lean hips resting on the table, shirt open, impressive chest bare. In a surge of awareness, now that the panic was gone, she unthinkingly applied more pressure, making Tiarnan wince.

‘Sorry,’ she muttered, lifting the cotton wool to check if the bleeding had stopped. To her relief it had, and it didn’t look as if the needle had gone too deep. But now all she could think about was the fact that she was right between his splayed legs. The material of his trousers was pulled taut over firmly muscled thighs. His belt buckle glinted and a line of dark silken hair led upwards over a hard flat belly, like an enticement to his chest, which was covered with more dark hair. She had a sudden burning desire to know what it would be like to have her bare breasts pressed against his chest …

She grew hot again as she busied herself cleaning the wound and getting a plaster to hold it in place. Her hands didn’t feel steady, and she prayed that Tiarnan wasn’t noticing her meltdown.

What Tiarnan was noticing was the tantalising display of her breasts, just visible as she moved, in the vee of her shirt. From what he could see she wore a plain white bra, and her breasts looked soft and voluptuous. Perfectly shaped. He could remember how they’d felt, crushed against his chest. Her soft, evocative scent wafted up from her body as she moved. Her legs looked impossibly long in the faded jeans. He shifted on the table as she bent down and unwittingly came closer to where he was starting to ache unmercifully. The pain of where the needle had lanced him faded in comparison. The incongruity of finding that she’d been knitting in the first place—not a hobby that he associated with a woman like her—had faded too, in the heat of his arousal.

If she looked down … He gritted his teeth, trying to control his body, a muscle throbbing in his jaw as her soft small hands worked. Her hair slid over her shoulder then, and whispered against his belly. Everything in him tightened, and he couldn’t help a groan. Immediately Kate looked up with wide, innocent eyes, inflaming him even more.

‘Did I hurt you?’ He shook his head. She was finished putting on the plaster. He could hear the tremor in her voice when she said, ‘There—all done.’

He reached out and held her elbows, dragging her imperceptibly closer, and closed his legs around hers slightly. He could see her widening eyes, pupils enlarging, and it had a direct effect on his arousal levels. She was tantalisingly close to where his erection strained against his trousers. But not close enough.

His voice felt as if it was being dragged over gravel. ‘Not all done yet … I think you should kiss it better.’

Kate’s insides seemed to be melting and combusting all at once. She was unable to look away from Tiarnan’s gaze. It held her like a magnet. Time stood still around them. She was so close now. One little tiny step and she’d be right there, captive between his legs, and she would be able to feel … She had to stop this madness. She had to remember that he’d deliberately set out to get her to Madrid to seduce her—had to remember her vow to be strong, resolute. She couldn’t let this happen. She struggled to swallow.

‘Tiarnan, you’re not four years old …’ Her voice sounded pathetically weak and feeble.

‘You stabbed me with your knitting needle,’ he growled. ‘The least you can do is kiss me better.’

What they were saying should have had a thread of easy humour. But humour was long gone. This was deadly serious.

Kate’s heart was pumping so fast now she felt sure he would be able to hear it. His hands on her elbows were strong, rigid. He wasn’t going to let her go, and she didn’t even know if she would have the strength to step away without falling down. This was the most erotically charged moment she could ever remember experiencing. Her throat was as dry as sandpaper.

‘One kiss and then you’ll let me go?’

Without taking his eyes from hers, he nodded.

Kate pulled away slightly and Tiarnan let go—cautiously. He leant back a little farther and rested his hands behind him on the table. It made him appear vulnerable and even more sexy, his torso long and lean, shoulders broad. Kate looked down at where the wound was. She put her hands behind her back, as if she couldn’t trust herself not to run her fingers over the ridges of muscles that rippled over his belly. She felt weak inside—hot and achy.

She bent down over his chest, and down further, her mouth hovering over where the plaster was. His skin was dark olive, taut and gleaming, begging to be touched, kissed. She imagined it to be hot to the touch, and pressed her mouth just above the plaster. Without having consciously intended it, her mouth was slightly open. She could feel and hear his indrawn breath. Acting on pure instinct, Kate darted her tongue-tip out for the tiniest moment. His skin was warm, and slightly salty on her tongue. Lust coiled through her like a live flame. She could smell the musk of arousal and didn’t know if it was hers or his. She wanted with a desperate urgency to explore further, to press herself close and feel if he was aroused …

With every atom of strength Kate possessed, she managed to straighten up and look Tiarnan in the eye. Her hands were still clenched tight behind her back. She felt feverish. His eyes burned into hers, and suddenly Tiarnan’s hands gripped her upper arms and he pulled her right into him. Caught off balance, she fell forward. He caught her full weight, and her hands came out automatically to splay across his chest. Desire flooded her belly and between her legs with traitorous urgency.

‘Your wound …’ she gasped.

‘Will be fine.’

She was desperate now. As desperate for him to keep holding her as she was to get away—and that killed her. ‘You said one kiss.’

He looked at her for a long moment. Kate felt her breasts crushed to his chest and, worse, felt his arousal hard against the apex of her legs. She was right in the cradle of his lap, unable to save herself from falling headlong into the fire. Her whole body was crying out to mould into his, to allow it to go up in flames.

She repeated herself, as if that might change the direction things had been taking since he’d walked up to her on that stage in San Francisco.

‘You said one kiss.’

Tiarnan snaked one arm around her back, pulling her in even tighter. The other went to the back of her head. She was his captive, and she couldn’t move even if she wanted to.

‘I lied.’