Читать книгу Holiday with a Stranger - Christy McKellen - Страница 10

THREE

After dozing fitfully in the sun for an hour Connor went back into the kitchen to find it had been turned into a laundry. There was a piece of clothing on every chair, and the pièce de résistance was the array of underwear hung in a neat row over the oven door.

Nice.

He laughed to himself. The woman had balls.

If this was her attempt to make him uncomfortable about staying here she was in for a big disappointment. It was going to take a lot more than parading her knickers in the kitchen to get rid of him.

Lifting a bra from the rail, he rubbed the silky material between finger and thumb. It had been a long while since he’d got his hands on a woman’s underwear; that had to be the reason why he was as hard as concrete again.

Dropping it back onto the rail, he hurriedly left the kitchen and went for a cooling shower—only to find her girly crap spread all over the room up there as well. The fruity smell of her shampoo still hung in the air. He shook his head in wonder; she was a feisty one. Well, two could play that game.

* * *

After a day of lying low and desperately trying to find things to entertain her that weren’t work-related Josie found she was actually looking forward to having some company for supper.

She’d decided to take a short break from writing the tender document just while Connor was here—hopefully that wouldn’t be for too much longer. Abi had wanted her to have a proper break, and she’d promised she wouldn’t work while she was here to placate her. If Connor somehow let slip to Abi that she’d ignored her promise there would be trouble. She couldn’t afford to piss her business partner off any more than she already had. Everything would fall apart if they couldn’t work together any more.

As soon as eight o’clock came around she went down to the kitchen to find Connor stirring something at the stove. Her underwear was still hanging limply on the rail in front of him. As she watched he reached down and grabbed a pair of her knickers, rubbing his hands on them as if they were a tea towel. He turned when she let out an involuntary gasp and nodded to her, as if it was perfectly normal to be cleaning his hands on ladies’ underwear.

Marching over, she snatched her knickers out of his hand and gathered the rest from the rail, bumping her arm into the hard muscle of his abdomen in her hurry.

‘Careful, there, I might start thinking you’re trying to get into my pants, what with all the groping and the exhibiting of your undercrackers,’ he said.

Turning to make eye contact, she found they were so close she could smell the spicy heat of him. There was a strange throbbing in her throat, as if her pulse was trying to break free and become its own entity. Concentrating on the laughter lines at the side of his eyes, she attempted to centre herself. The sun had deepened his tan, which only made the vivid blue of his eyes stand out more.

She opened her mouth to reply but nothing came out.

‘Not lost for words, Josie, surely?’

Before she had chance to pull herself together and form a suitably cutting reply he gave her another blast of that awesome smile and she melted again.

He knew exactly what she was up to; she could see the amusement in the depths of his eyes and in the jaunty angle of his eyebrow. Why the hell had she thought a pair of her knickers would scare off a man like him? What had compelled her to sink so low?

Desperation.

She was a mess. And now so were her knickers.

As all the connotations of that thought hit her she was totally unable to stop a full-blown grin spreading across her face. Then a giggle broke free, and then a great heaving laugh. Once she started she couldn’t stop. Turning away and taking a step back, she steadied herself against the kitchen chair until she managed to get the convulsions under control.

‘My God, you’re a handful.’ She shook her head in bewildered despair, but it felt good to laugh out loud.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I rather think I am.’ He leant back against the stove. ‘Maybe two handfuls.’

At this, she started giggling again, like a nervous teenager, and he joined in with a deep chuckle.

Why had it been so long since she’d laughed with someone like this?

He moved towards her and her giggle fit subsided. She was acutely aware of how his shorts and T-shirt fitted his body perfectly. How soft the golden skin of his throat looked. How much she wanted to feel the strength of him under her hands.

‘I know you’re trying to get rid of me, Josie, but I’m not budging. You can put up with me for a couple of days, right?’

It was more of an order than a question.

She ran through her options.

There were none.

It wasn’t as if she’d be able to physically chuck him out, and he seemed totally uninterested in her perfectly reasonable points of argument.

Ah, what the hell? She could put up with him for a short while. At least it would help to break the boredom. It was kind of fun, sparring with him. He was stimulating company, and she was rather enjoying just looking at him.

‘Okay. Fine. But the bed’s mine.’

He held his hands up. ‘You women and your passion for beds.’

‘Clinophilia.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Having a passion for beds is clinophilia.’

He gave her a stunned smile. ‘You just pulled that out of the air?’

She shrugged. ‘It’s general knowledge.’

He snorted. ‘Is it?’ He raised a seductive eyebrow. ‘Well, far be it from me to kick a lady out of my bed.’

She shook her head in wonder at his gall. ‘You can’t resist a double entendre, can you, Connor?’

‘I can’t help myself when I’m around you, Josie.’

She was so breathless she had to concentrate hard on sucking air into her constricted lungs. The combination of flirty talk and the proximity of his to-die-for body was having a devastating effect on her.

‘It’s nearly time to eat,’ he said quietly, a mirthful smile in his eyes.

He knew. He knew all too well.

She realised she was gawping at him and dragged her gaze away.

‘Smells great,’ she muttered.

When she glanced back at him the look on his face made her insides flip over. Breaking eye contact, he turned back to the stove and added some herbs to the pan. She felt the loss of his attention keenly, as if the sun had slipped behind a cloud.

Drumming her fingers against her legs, she looked around the kitchen for something to do, her nerves jumping.

‘Do you need any help? With supper?’

He looked back and gave her a lopsided grin. ‘I think it’s probably better if I take care of it.’ He gestured towards the work surface. ‘No microwave,’ he said by way of explanation.

Her hackles rose. ‘Just because I don’t cook at home, it doesn’t mean I can’t be useful in the kitchen.’

He just smiled, not rising to her cross tone. ‘I’ve got this covered—but, thanks.’

She shifted from foot to foot before leaning awkwardly against the chair-back. She was reluctant to be on her own again after spending all day bored out of her brain.

He watched her in bemusement. ‘If you want something to read there are yesterday’s newspapers in the snug.’

He wasn’t making it easy for her to stay and watch him.

‘Okay, then.’ She swung her finger to point behind her. ‘I’ll get out of your hair for a bit.’

‘Okay.’ He waved his hand, as if dismissing her, turning back to the stove without another word.

* * *

Supper was a sumptuously tender boeuf bourguignon with buttery new potatoes and crispy green beans. Josie wolfed it down with barely a pause. Neither of them spoke during the meal except to exchange pleasantries, which suited her fine.

She wasn’t sure why she felt so nervous around him. She’d faced CEOs of multi-million-pound corporations and been less jittery than this. He had some kind of strange effect on her, and she found it distressing. She should be able to handle this, no problem, but just his presence next to her set her mind into a spin. Every movement he made sent vibrations along her nerves. His gestures were precise, but elegant, and she thought she could probably watch him for hours and not grow bored.

‘That was delicious, thanks,’ she said, leaning back in her chair.

‘You’re welcome. Woman should not live on cornflakes alone,’ he said, giving her a look of reproach.

She grinned sheepishly, then tapped her hands gently on the table, beating out a rhythm.

Connor continued to watch her as she battled with the unwelcome warmth spreading through her under his intense gaze.

The silence between them lengthened.

‘So, how do you usually spend your evenings?’ she asked, trying to break the atmosphere.

Connor’s brow furrowed as he gave it some thought. ‘Game of chess?’

‘Chess, huh? Okay. I’ve not played in a while, but what the hell?’

‘I warn you, I take no prisoners.’ He wagged a finger at her.

‘Thanks for the warning,’ she said, going into the snug and grabbing the chessboard.

Neither did she.

* * *

‘Ah, the Corporate Opening,’ Connor joked as Josie moved her first piece.

‘Always works for me,’ she said, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

Connor didn’t hesitate before moving his first piece.

‘Hmm, the Nomad Defence. Daring,’ Josie said, an eyebrow raised in jest.

‘They don’t call me Crazy-eyed Connor for nothing.’

‘Do they really?’

‘Actually, no.’ He pretended to look sad.

‘So, how else do you entertain yourself when you’re travelling?’ She tapped her fingers against her leg whilst studying the board for her next move. She was determined to win this game.

‘When I get the chance I go mountaineering—sometimes ice climbing.’

Josie raised both eyebrows this time. ‘Action man, huh?’

‘Got to get my kicks somehow.’

‘Right.’ She moved another piece, holding on to it for a few seconds before releasing it.