Читать книгу Passion & Pleasure: Savage Awakening / For Pleasure...Or Marriage? / Taken for His Pleasure - Carol Marinelli, Anne Mather - Страница 9

HE WAS sure she would refuse.

As he released her arm and stepped back from her, he realised he was banking on it. He’d already regretted issuing the invitation, however urgent his motives had been. All he really wanted to do was go home and close his door against the world. He wasn’t up to entertaining anyone. Diane’s visit had proved that. So what in hell was he doing inviting this young woman back to his home and risking his fragile independence yet again?

She was looking at him now, her blue eyes wide and troubled. What was she thinking? he wondered. That she couldn’t trust him? That he was some crazy nutcase who was suffering a bad attack of paranoia? If so, she was probably right.

She looked so innocent, he thought irritably. Which couldn’t be true. What had Diane said? That she’d got herself pregnant at sixteen? Hardly the behaviour of an innocent. And women could effect any number of disguises. Diane had proved that, too.

But this girl was nothing like Diane. He knew that. For one thing, Diane would never go out without make-up, or give so little regard to her appearance. OK, Fliss Taylor’s skin was smooth and creamy and seemed to need little improvement, but her hair clashed wildly with the pink overalls she was wearing, and, judging by the way her breasts moved, she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath that skimpy T-shirt—

Hold it! Where the hell had that come from? It was a long time since he’d even noticed a woman’s breasts.

‘All right,’ she said suddenly, startling him out of his guilty reverie. ‘Let’s do that.’ Was it only his imagination or was she putting a brave front on it, too? ‘I assume you came in your own vehicle.’

Matt’s gaze moved automatically to where he had parked the Land Cruiser. ‘Oh—yeah,’ he said, his heart sinking. He was going to have to go through with this. ‘D’you want me to follow you home or vice versa?’

‘I’ll follow you,’ she said at once, and he wished he hadn’t given her the option. Now he was going to be aware of her behind him, watching his every move, all the way back to Mallon’s End.

Great!

‘OK,’ he said now, forcing a polite smile. ‘I’ll get going.’

In fact it wasn’t as bad as he’d anticipated. She kept a comfortable distance between them the whole way and he’d already parked the Toyota and got out of the driving seat before she turned up the drive.

Fortunately Matt had visited the supermarket himself before he’d accosted her and now he hauled a couple of plastic carriers out of the back of his vehicle before wrestling his key into the lock.

‘Come on in,’ he said, backing up against the door to allow her to precede him into the hall. ‘You’ll have to forgive the state of the place. I haven’t gotten around to doing any decorating yet.’

‘Actually, I like it the way it is,’ she said as he closed the door behind them, and he remembered why he had wanted to talk to her in the first place.

‘Yeah, right,’ he said, edging past her when she paused to look up the curving staircase. ‘Diane said you used to work here. Is that true?’

A faint colour invaded her creamy cheeks as he spoke. ‘I might have done,’ she said, and he sensed she wasn’t as comfortable with it as Diane had implied. Her steps definitely slowed as she reached the kitchen. ‘Where is Diane, anyway? Did she suggest I might be interested in working for you? Is that what this is all about?’

He dumped the carriers on the pine table before he looked at her again. ‘Diane’s in London,’ he said flatly. ‘I’m sorry if you expected she’d be here. I’m afraid there’s only me.’

Fliss’s soft lips pressed together for a moment. ‘But she did suggest that I might be glad of a job, didn’t she?’ She gave a rueful shake of her head. ‘I should have known.’

Matt hesitated only a moment. ‘If you know Diane at all then you should know that she’d never suggest I employed any woman under the age of fifty. Especially not someone she seems to regard as a rival.’

He heard her suck in a breath. ‘You’re joking, right?’

He hadn’t been, but Matt regretted being so honest. ‘Yeah, maybe,’ he said, knowing Diane would definitely not approve of him saying that. ‘Anyway, forget it. Which do you prefer? Tea or coffee? I have both.’

She hesitated. ‘Um—tea would be nice,’ she said at last. ‘Do you need any help?’

Matt’s mouth compressed. ‘Why? Do I look as if I do?’ He plugged in the kettle. ‘No, don’t answer that. My ego’s not up to it at the moment.’

A trace of humour touched her lips. ‘I’m sure that’s not true either.’ She wrapped her arms about her midriff. ‘What did Diane tell you about me?’

Matt didn’t want to get into that. ‘Not a lot,’ he said, not altogether truthfully. He unloaded some steak and a couple of pre-cooked meals into the fridge. ‘I guess Amy’s at school right now, isn’t she?’

Fliss nodded. ‘She’s in year five at the village primary. You must have seen the school as you drove through.’ She paused and then went on. ‘So—do you need a housekeeper?’

Matt was taken aback. He wasn’t used to people speaking their minds so openly. Since his return, the opposite had been true. Even his mother verbally tiptoed about him, as if she wasn’t entirely sure what he might do if she said the wrong thing. But Fliss Taylor…

‘I—I need some help around the house,’ he agreed neutrally.

‘And when Diane told you I used to work for Colonel Phillips, you thought snap! She can work for me, too.’

Matt abandoned the rest of the shopping and propped his hip against one of the mahogany units. ‘It wasn’t quite like that.’

‘But that is why you approached me in the car park,’ she persisted, and he gave a concessionary shrug.

‘All right. I admit, I thought about it.’

Her brows drew together. ‘But now you’ve changed your mind?’

‘No! Yes!’ Matt heard the kettle boiling and turned gratefully to make the tea. He sighed. ‘You make it sound as if I could have no other reason for speaking to you. We’re not exactly strangers, for pity’s sake. I mean, I made no complaint about your daughter dumping her rabbit on my doorstep, did I?’

‘Gee, thanks.’

Her sardonic response was hardly unexpected and he turned to face her again with weary compliance. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘That was uncalled-for. You both thought the house was empty. I know that. But, just for the record, when I first came out of the showroom and saw you across the car park, the idea of asking you to work for me was far from my mind.’

And that was true, he conceded, half amused by the admission. But with the sun adding gold lights to the coppery beauty of her hair, she’d been instantly recognisable. And, although the prospect of offering her a job had given him a reason to speak to her, he might have done so anyway.

Or not.

Her sudden decision to leave the doorway and cross the room towards him disrupted his thought processes. For a crazy moment, he wondered if something in his face had given her the impression that he was attracted to her and he moved almost automatically out of her way.

He realised his mistake when she cast him a pitying glance and reached instead for the two mugs he’d filled with hot water. With casual expertise, she spooned the two used tea bags into the waste bin and then said drily, ‘I don’t like strong tea. Do you?’

Matt felt furious with himself as he shook his head. For heaven’s sake, he was doing everything he could to reinforce the opinion she probably already had of him. Cursing under his breath, he opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk. He set it down on the counter beside her rather more heavily than was wise and predictably some spilled onto the marble surface. He swore again. ‘Sorry.’

Fliss added milk to both cups. Then, cradling hers between her palms, she said softly, ‘Did I do something wrong?’

Matt felt a wave of weariness envelop him again. ‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘It’s not you. It’s me. Like I said before, I’m not finding it easy to—to interact with people.’

Fliss frowned. ‘Is that why you’ve moved out of London?’ she asked, and then coloured. ‘Oh, sorry. It’s nothing to do with me.’

‘No.’ He conceded the point. ‘But it’s the truth.’ He picked up his own cup and swallowed a mouthful of tea. ‘I needed some space. London offers very little of that.’

She absorbed this, her eyes on the beige liquid in her cup, and, against his will, he noticed how long her lashes were. For someone with red hair, they were unusually dark, too, but lighter at the tips, as if bleached by the sun.

His jaw tightened. As if it mattered to him. She could be a raving beauty, with a figure to die for, and he wouldn’t be interested. He wondered what she’d say if he told her that.

‘I suppose Diane’s parents said this house was for sale,’ she ventured now, and Matt accepted that she deserved some explanation.

‘No,’ he assured her. ‘As you might have guessed, Diane isn’t in favour of me moving out of London. I found the house on a property website. It sounded exactly what I was looking for so I bought it.’

‘Sight unseen?’ She was obviously surprised.

‘Well, I had Joe Francis, an architect friend of mine, look at it,’ he said, a little defensively. ‘And I did speak to the Chesneys. They seemed to think it was OK.’

‘And what do you think, now that you’ve moved in?’

‘I like it.’ He smiled in spite of himself. ‘I’ll like it better, of course, when it feels less like a mausoleum and more like a home.’

Fliss glanced about her. ‘Colonel Phillips didn’t think it was a mausoleum.’

‘No, well, he probably kept the place furnished.’ He paused, wondering how much he should tell her. ‘That’s what I was doing in Westerbury. Buying some furniture that won’t look out of place in these rooms.’

‘From Harry Gilchrist,’ she said, and Matt quirked an eyebrow.

‘You know him?’

‘He lives in the village,’ she said regretfully. ‘I suppose he recognised you.’

Matt finished his tea and set his empty mug down on the counter. ‘Did he ever,’ he said, pulling a wry face. ‘Oh, well, I guess a week is better than nothing.’

‘You might be surprised.’ Fliss finished her own tea and, to his surprise, moved to the sink to wash up the cups. ‘Most of the villagers tend to mind their own business.’

‘Do they?’

Matt spoke almost absently, his eyes unwillingly drawn to the vulnerable curve of her nape. She’d tugged her hair to one side and secured it with a tortoiseshell clip, and the slender start of her spine was exposed.

He wasn’t thinking, or he would have looked away, but instead his eyes moved down over the crossed braces of her dungarees. A narrow waist dipped in above the provocative swell of her bottom, the loose trousers only hinting at the lushness of her hips and thighs. Her legs were longer then he’d imagined, her ankles trim below the cuffs of her trousers.

‘What do you mean?’

Her words arrested whatever insane visions he had been having, and he shook his head as if that would clear his brain. For God’s sake, what was he doing? And what was she talking about? He was damned if he could remember.

‘I beg your pardon?’

His apology was automatic, but her expression as she turned towards him fairly simmered with resentment. ‘You said, Do they?’ she reminded him tightly. ‘What did you mean?’

Matt didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. For a moment there, he’d been entertaining himself with the thought that he was just the same as any other man. Of course, he wasn’t, but she didn’t know that. And she probably thought he was leering at her like any other member of his sex.

‘You know,’ she said flatly, as he struggled to answer her, ‘when you said Diane hadn’t told you a lot about me, you were lying, weren’t you? Have the decency to admit it.’

‘You’re wrong.’ Matt blew out a breath. ‘Whatever I said, it had nothing to do with anything Diane had said about you. But, OK, she didn’t tell me that you were still at school when you got pregnant. However, that has nothing to do with me.’

‘Damn right.’

There was a catch in her voice now, and Matt silently cursed Diane for getting him into this. ‘Right,’ he said, folding his arms across his chest. ‘So, shall we put that behind us and start again?’

‘Whatever.’ She finished drying the cups and moved towards the door. ‘I’d better be going. Amy will be home from school now and she’s quite a handful for my father.’

‘I’ll bet.’ He kept his mind firmly on what she was saying and not on the curling strands of red-gold hair that had escaped the clip and were bobbing beside her cheek. He chewed at the inside of his cheek for a moment, relishing the pain as a distraction. ‘You—er—you wouldn’t still consider working for me, I suppose?’

She halted, but she kept her back to him as she spoke. ‘Doing what, exactly?’

Matt knew an almost overwhelming urge to touch her then. She suddenly seemed so vulnerable, so alone. Which was ridiculous really, considering she had a father and a daughter who probably thought the world of her. Yet he sensed that he’d hurt her and he didn’t know how to repair the damage.

He thought about asking what she used to do for Colonel Phillips, but that would sound as if he was being flippant and he couldn’t have that. Instead, he prevaricated. ‘Whatever needs doing,’ he said. ‘I won’t expect you to do anything I wouldn’t do myself.’ He paused. ‘I guess what I need is help, that’s all. Just a few days a week if that suits you.’

Fliss shrugged. ‘I can do that,’ she said. Then she half turned, looking at him over one creamy shoulder. ‘With one proviso.’

‘Which is?’

‘I won’t work for you when Diane comes to live here,’ she said. ‘This is only a temporary arrangement—’

‘Diane won’t be coming to live here,’ he broke in impulsively, and he saw the look of disbelief that crossed her face.

‘But she’s your fiancée!’

‘She’s my—what?’ Matt stared at her. ‘She told you that?’

‘Yes.’ She looked uncertain. ‘She is, isn’t she?’

Matt allowed a sound of frustration to escape him, realising he couldn’t deny they had had a relationship. ‘We—she and I—we have been involved, yeah,’ he admitted unwillingly.

A faint smile touched her lips. ‘I thought so,’ she said, and he had to stifle the urge to explain that the situation—his situation—had changed.

‘That still doesn’t alter the fact that she’s not going to be living here,’ he said instead, more forcefully than was necessary. ‘Diane’s a city person. She works in London. It wouldn’t be feasible for her to move down here.’

Fliss held up her hand as if to stop him. ‘Not immediately, I understand that—’

‘Not at all,’ he said flatly, and knew he was being far too obdurate. He took a deep breath. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think that’s your business—’

‘I mean, about the job,’ he said grimly, not altogether sure she wasn’t mocking him, and she shrugged.

‘When would you want me to start?’

Matt’s initial reaction was to say, How does tomorrow suit you? But tomorrow was Saturday and he doubted she’d want to start then.

‘Would Monday be OK?’ he asked. ‘Your friend, Gilchrist, is delivering the furniture I ordered on Monday morning. I’d be glad of your help.’

‘All right.’ She pushed her hands into the pockets of her dungarees. ‘I’ll come over about nine, does that suit you?’

‘That’s great,’ he said, and as she moved out into the hall he followed her. ‘See you Monday, then.’

‘Monday,’ she agreed, opening the door before he could get past her and do it for her. ‘G’bye.’

Matt waited until she’d turned her car and driven away before he closed the door and sagged back against it. He felt exhausted and he didn’t honestly know why. It wasn’t as if she’d said or done anything to deplete his energies and yet he felt drained. And strangely let down, which was something new for him.

Straightening, he made his way back to the kitchen and surveyed the room with frustrated eyes. What was wrong with him now, for God’s sake? He’d just completed a satisfactory shopping trip and found himself a part-time housekeeper into the bargain. What more did he want?

A hell of a lot more, he conceded grimly, but it wasn’t going to happen. Nevertheless, for a short time there he’d found himself having thoughts he hadn’t had since he’d got back from North Africa. He didn’t kid himself it meant anything. Despite what his doctors had said, he knew he was never going to be the man he was. But Fliss Taylor was different. She intrigued him. And, like anyone else, he responded to that.

He knew he’d never met a female who was as unaware of herself as she was. There was no artifice about her, no desire to draw attention to herself, no overt sexuality. Yet she was all woman, with a soft innocence that any man would have found challenging.

Any man but him, that was, he reminded himself, the reason for his sense of dissatisfaction no longer so obscure. He picked up one of the mugs they had used and flung it across the room, uncaring when it shattered against the Aga. He had to keep reminding himself he was only half a man, he taunted himself savagely. And if that was true, what the hell was he doing hiring a housekeeper who aroused any kind of feelings inside him?