Читать книгу Once a Playboy… - Kate Hardy - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

GEORGE lay flat on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him. Then he raised his bad leg thirty centimetres from the floor and traced a T-shape in the air, just as Serena had taught him.

Serena.

He closed his eyes as he repeated the exercise, seeing her face in his mind’s eye. That beautiful, beautiful mouth. What would it feel like against his skin? He tipped his head back, imagining her mouth teasing a path down his throat; then lower, down his sternum, and lower still, over his abdomen. Her hair would be loose and brushing against his skin, soft as silk, its coolness in sharp contrast to the heat of her mouth.

He blew out a breath.

This really wasn’t sensible, fantasising about his physiotherapist like this. Especially as she’d made it quite clear that she wasn’t interested in him. Serena James wasn’t the type of woman he normally dated. She wasn’t one of the tall, rail-thin blondes who graced his arm at parties. She had light brown hair that most people would describe as ‘mouse', she couldn’t be more than five feet four inches tall, and she had definite curves. Glorious curves that he ached to touch. To mould with his palms. To caress and tease until she was as full of desire for him as he was for her.

He knew what his bossiest sister would say. Alice would roll her eyes and say that he wanted Serena precisely because he knew she was out of reach. Because she was one of the first women in years who’d resisted him.

Worse still, he knew that was probably true. Serena James was a challenge. She intrigued him. And he found it hard to resist a pretty face and the chance to have some fun.

If he had any sense, he’d ask if he could see Bruno instead of Serena to finish off the rest of his treatment.

But the idea of seeing Serena again on Thursday was too much for him.

Serena smiled at George when he walked in, and heat arrowed down to his groin.

Down, boy. This is meant to be professional, he reminded his libido.

‘So you’ve been doing the exercises I suggested?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Just the exercises?’

He gave her his most charming smile. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’

‘Because you’re the type to push yourself too hard,’ she said softly. ‘What did you do, George?’

She could read him like a book. He wasn’t sure if that intrigued him more or worried him. Most people were happy just to see the surface; Serena clearly looked deeper and he had a feeling that she saw what most people missed about him. Which in itself was dangerous. Apart from his family, he didn’t let people get that close.

‘I tried driving at the weekend. On private land, so there wasn’t a risk to anyone else.’ Odd how it felt important to tell her that. Normally, he didn’t give a damn what people thought about him. But what Serena thought … For some reason, that mattered. And he’d rather not start analysing why.

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Did it hurt?’

‘No. I realise I’m not quite ready to drive in London again, yet,’ he admitted, ‘but now I’ve got a benchmark to work with. And it really helps, knowing that I’m not going to be dependent on the girls and Ed—my brother—for what already feels like for ever.’

She examined him, then made him go through the full range of movements just to the point of pain. ‘That’s good. Your range has improved hugely over the last few weeks.’

‘Thanks to you.’

‘And you, for sticking with the exercises. A lot of people struggle and some of them just give up.’

‘Not me. I want my independence back, and if that means sticking to an exercise programme, then the exercises take priority over everything else every day,’ George said.

She smiled. ‘Actually, you’ve done well. I think you’re ready for the last stage.’ She gave him more exercises; even as George concentrated on her instructions and making sure he was doing everything correctly, to get the maximum benefit from the movements, he couldn’t help looking at her.

And he caught her looking back at him. Specifically, at his mouth.

All his senses immediately went on full alert. Was she thinking about it, the same way he was? What would she do if he kissed her?

He had a feeling that she’d retreat into formality again. She’d panicked enough at his last appointment, when he’d suggested she kiss him; he was pretty sure that actually doing what he’d suggested would send her running in the opposite direction.

But next week was his last appointment. He didn’t have time to wait and coax her round to his point of view. He was going to have to make his move then, or lose the chance of seeing her again—for good.

On Monday morning, Serena put George through his paces again.

And then it was over. He was signed off. No more physio.

No more seeing her, unless he asked her out now. He’d thought about it all weekend. On paper, it was ridiculous. She wasn’t his type and he was pretty sure he wasn’t hers. Yet she intrigued him too much for him to let it go. ‘That was my last appointment,’ he said.

‘I know. You’ve done very well.’

‘I brought you these, to say thanks for all the work you’ve done on my wrists and my leg. And for being patient with me. I know I haven’t exactly been the easiest of clients.’ He produced a flattish square box, slightly bigger than a CD case; it was wrapped in thick burgundy-coloured paper and tied with a gold gauzy ribbon.

She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t accept gifts.’

‘Rules and regulations?’ he asked.

‘They’re there to protect patients.’

‘And staff, I guess.’ To make sure that nobody could claim that a therapist had taken advantage of a vulnerable patient and extorted expensive presents from them. He could understand that. ‘Pity. It isn’t a diamond tiara or anything like that,’ he said, just to reassure her. ‘It’s just something small.’ The kind of thing he’d take to the hostess of a dinner party.

She looked embarrassed. ‘It’s very kind of you to think of me, Mr Somers, but I’m afraid I really can’t accept anything.’

He put the box on her desk. ‘Serena. Look at me,’ he said softly.

Looking at him was a mistake. Those blue, blue eyes. That beautifully shaped mouth. Serena could barely tear her gaze away from it.

‘Serena,’ he whispered.

And she knew in that second that he was going to kiss her.

In the name of common sense, she should back away. Or at least turn her head aside so he ended up kissing her cheek and not her mouth.

But she couldn’t move. It was as if some invisible force was holding her in place. Making her wait for the moment when he finally kissed her.

George’s lips brushed against hers ever so gently; to her surprise, his kiss wasn’t demanding and forceful, but sweet and light and coaxing. Tempting.

Back away and tell him you don’t do this.

But her common sense was drowned out by the way her lips were tingling. She wanted more. Lots more. Right now.

As if he could read her mind, he touched his mouth to hers again. And again, his mouth nipped gently at her lower lip, inviting and inciting. The next thing she knew, her fingers were sliding into his hair, his arms were wrapped tightly round her, and her mouth was opening under his. Inviting the kind of kiss she hadn’t shared with anyone since Ethan’s father.

And even that had been a pale, pale imitation of the way George was kissing her. The way his mouth promised as much as it demanded, giving as well as taking. Her blood felt as if it were fizzing through her veins. And her temperature was most definitely spiking.

He broke the kiss and stroked her face. ‘Serena. I knew it would be like that between us,’ he said softly.

Hot. Intense. Perfect.

‘I’ve wanted to do that for weeks.’

She’d wanted it, too. But it couldn’t happen. She dragged in a breath and took a step away from him; not that it made much difference. They could’ve been standing at opposite ends of Wembley Stadium with thousands of people jammed between them, and she’d still be spine-tinglingly aware of his presence. ‘We shouldn’t have done that, Mr Somers,’ she said shakily. ‘You’re my patient.’

‘Actually, I’m not,’ he pointed out. ‘That was my last session. My treatment’s over. So we’re not patient and therapist any more. We’re just you and me. Two ordinary people. There’s no reason why we can’t do whatever we want.’ He stole another of those sweet, mind-drugging kisses. ‘I’d like to see you outside work, Serena. Will you go out with me?’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t.’

‘You’re involved with someone else?’

This was her cue to tell a little white lie. She knew instinctively that George Somers was an honourable man. He wouldn’t push her if he thought that would mean she’d be unfaithful to her partner. All she had to do was say yes. One tiny little word.

But her mouth wasn’t playing ball. ‘I’m single.’

‘So what’s the problem?’

How could he not see it? ‘We’re from different worlds. Seriously different. You’re the son of a baron. You mix with royalty.’

‘Minor royalty,’ he corrected. ‘Not that often. And most of whom I find pretty tedious, to be honest.’

‘And celebs.’ She’d seen the pictures in the gossip rags that clients left in the waiting room. George Somers didn’t date ordinary women like her. He had a taste for tall, skinny blondes with incredibly short skirts and teeth so white and even that it was obvious they’d spent a fortune on cosmetic dentistry.

He shrugged. ‘My world isn’t all glitz and glamour. And if you don’t want to go to a showbiz party, that’s fine by me. I can think of plenty of other things I’d rather do with you.’

Heaven help her, so could she. And it made her skin feel too tight. ‘I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.’

‘I’m just an ordinary man, Serena.’

That absolutely wasn’t true. There was nothing in the least bit ordinary about George Somers.

‘I find you attractive.’ His eyes glittered. ‘And, from the way you kissed me back just now, I’d say it’s completely mutual.’

It was. She did find him attractive. Which was a huge problem. Help. It had been so long since she’d been out with anyone that she couldn’t even remember how to play the dating game. She’d only make a mess of this.

‘I have a child,’ she blurted out. ‘I’m a single mum.’ And then she felt ashamed of herself for using Ethan as an excuse. As a shield. Her son deserved more than that.

‘OK. I can understand that you want to protect your child—it’s not fair for a kid to get attached to an “uncle” who isn’t going to stick around,’ George said.

He understood that?

‘Which isn’t me suggesting that you have a string of men parading through your life, either,’ he added.

She felt the colour rise in her cheeks. So he didn’t think she was an easy conquest, either.

‘If anything, I get the impression you’ve gone completely the other way and you don’t normally date anyone. But having a child doesn’t mean that you can’t see anyone, Serena. It doesn’t mean that you can’t have a little fun in your life.’

Exactly what her colleague Jess had said. She pushed temptation away. ‘I’m a working mum. I need to spend my free time with my son.’

‘Of course you do. But you need a little time for you, too,’ he said softly. He leaned forward, closing the gap between them, and brushed his lips against hers. Almost as if he was promising that nobody was going to get hurt by this.

‘Have lunch with me on Tuesday,’ he said, his voice soft and incredibly seductive.

‘I c—’ she began, and he pressed the tip of his finger lightly against her mouth, not letting her refuse.

‘I know you have patients to see, Serena, and you need to stick to your schedule at work. If you’re busy on Tuesday, we can make it another day. But we’re going to have lunch together next week. Just lunch. You, me, and—’ his eyes crinkled at the corners ‘—hopefully a little bit of sunshine.’

How could she possibly resist an invitation like that?

‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘Are you vegetarian? Is there anything you really don’t like or are allergic to, foodwise?’

‘No to all three.’

‘Same here. Which makes life simpler. Good.’ He took a card from his wallet and scribbled a number on the back. ‘That’s my mobile. So I’ll see you on Tuesday at midday. If that’s a problem, text me with an alternative. My schedule’s reasonably flexible at the moment.’

Her fingers touched his as she took the card, and it sent a shiver of desire all the way through her. Crazy. She’d managed to keep the attraction in check while he was her patient. Now he wasn’t her patient any more, all bets were off. And her mouth was still tingling from that kiss.

He took the box from her desk and handed it to her. ‘Right. Now, this isn’t a gift from a grateful patient, so it isn’t covered by the rules and regulations. This is just a very small, no-strings gift from me to you.’

She stared at him. ‘Why?’

‘Because I think you’ll like it. And I like putting a little bit of sunshine into people’s days.’ There was a glitter of something she couldn’t read in his eyes. ‘And it’s not for sharing, Serena. I meant it when I said it was just for you.’

‘May I open it now?’

‘No.’ He smiled. ‘Wait until I’ve gone.’ He stole another kiss. ‘Until Tuesday.’

She sat down at her desk as he closed the door behind him and untied the ribbon.

His gift turned out to be a small square box of the most exquisite dark chocolates. From Fortnum and Mason: the poshest grocery store in London, and quite possibly the poshest store in the world. That one small box of chocolates had probably cost him half as much as a whole week’s grocery shop for herself and Ethan.

She’d never, ever been given something so decadent.

How had George known that she loved dark chocolate? Or had it been one of the little things they’d chatted about during the weeks of his treatment, and he’d actually listened to what she’d told him?

When Serena took the lid off the box and saw the chocolates nestled in dark brown frilled paper, and spied a crystallised violet on top of one smooth, dark, sinful chocolate—her absolute favourite flavour—she couldn’t resist taking it and biting off a corner. The bitterness of the smooth, rich chocolate was the perfect foil to the sweet floral fondant inside, and it took her breath away.

Shockingly, it also reminded her of kissing him. Of the sweetness of his mouth in that sinfully dark kiss. She knew that she’d always associate violet creams with kissing George, from now on.

And she really needed her head examined. Had she really agreed to meet him for lunch, next week? Had she really let him kiss her until she was dizzy?

All the same, she finished the chocolate, then put the lid back on and slipped the box into her handbag before texting him to say thank you.

This isn’t a gift from a grateful patient … This is just a very small, no-strings gift from me to you.

Maybe.

But would they be able to say the same about lunch?