Читать книгу The British Bachelors Collection - Сара Крейвен, Kate Hardy - Страница 42

NINE

Tea, glorious tea. A celebration of teas from around the world.

The tea a person chooses to drink for pleasure is as unique as their fingerprint. Personal and special. And a true insight into their character.

From Flynn’s Phantasmagoria of Tea

‘I hope that you are not going to inspect the contents of my entire wardrobe,’ Dee snorted as Sean bounded up the stairs from the tea shop to her apartment and followed her along the narrow corridor. ‘Because I’m going to tell you now that my selection of footwear suitable for a conference dinner is rather limited.’

‘Not at all.’ Sean smiled, enjoying the view as Dee skipped up the stairs in front of him and trying not to ogle too blatantly. The memory of her judo training was still too fresh to forget in a hurry. ‘Your delightful choice of clothing has been inspired this week and I expect nothing less.’

Dee came to a dead stop outside a white-painted door and he held onto the bannister as she looked down at him with something close to nervousness in her eyes.

‘What is it?’ he asked with a smile. ‘Worried that I will reveal the terrors of your boudoir to the world?’ He pressed his right hand to his chest, lifted his head and said in a clear voice, ‘As a true gentleman, I promise that your secrets are safe with me.’

Dee lifted both eyebrows high. ‘No doubt. But that’s not the problem. It’s just that—’ she coughed and Sean caught a shy blush at the base of her neck ‘—Lottie is the only person who has seen my bedroom before, and I am actually quite shy about showing my space to other people. In fact, I think it might be better if you wait downstairs. I shouldn’t be too long.’

Sean shook his head very slowly. ‘Not a chance. I’m not going anywhere.’

Dee sighed and folded her arms. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you are annoyingly stubborn?’

‘Frequently. It is one of my finer qualities,’ he replied in a light, lilting voice. ‘Once I make my mind up about how to do something or a particular plan—that’s it. My plans are not for changing.’

She gazed at him for a few seconds before slowly unfolding her arms.

‘This tea festival has a lot to answer for,’ Sean heard her mutter, but she turned and opened her bedroom door, swinging her shoes in one hand.

Sean stood at the door and took a breath as he tried to take in what he was looking at.

For a small bedroom Dee had managed to squeeze in a wide pale-wood wardrobe and a table under the window. An upright bookcase stacked with papers, magazines and books of all sizes took up the rest of the wall as far as her bedside cabinet.

The walls had been painted in a warm shade of cream. All of the soft furnishings in the room were variations of shades of lavender and primrose yellow, including a cream quilted bed-cover embroidered with tiny blossoms.

The whole room was calm, orderly, clean, serene and tranquil. Feminine without being over-the-top girly or pretty. It was the type of colour scheme and arrangement several of his interior designers had introduced for the new boutique-hotel range his sister was running.

Sean realized with a shock that it was the exact opposite of what he had been expecting. Shame on him for making judgements about the choices Dee would make in her home. Shame on him for judging her. Full-stop.

A smile crept up on him unannounced.

Dee Flynn was turning out to be one of the most astonishing people that he had ever met.

‘You can come in if you promise not to touch anything or criticize,’ Dee said as she lifted a silk kimono from the bed, swung open her wardrobe door and pulled out a hanger.

‘Thank you. This is...a lovely room.’

She coughed and whirled around to face him.

‘Don’t sound so surprised. What exactly were you expecting? Did you think I had made a nest of straw from old wooden tea chests or something?’

Sean held up both hands. ‘Not a bit. I simply didn’t think that you would go for a Scandinavian colour scheme with an English twist. Most of your clothes seem bright and Far Eastern. I thought you might have chosen an ethnic style—something bright. That’s all.’

‘Ah, you were expecting to see rainbow colours and dark wood. I see what you mean. This must be really quite shocking. But you forget that this is where I come to relax at the end of the day. I need this quiet space to help me centre myself and calm down and focus. Otherwise, I think I really would go nuts with the chaos that is my daily life.’

‘Well, I know what that feels like. Especially with jet lag,’ Sean replied and squeezed past her and picked up a silver-framed photograph from her computer desk.

A tall, slender, grey-haired man in white tunic and trousers was standing with one hand resting on a wooden balcony, the other hand across the shoulders of a dark-haired woman wearing a bright azure top and wrap skirt. All around them was exuberant green foliage, and a riot of flowering plants of all shapes and colours spilled out from pots and planters.

‘Are these your parents?’ he asked, and gestured with his head towards the photo.

Dee put down a shoe box and came and stood next to him.

‘Yup. That’s Mum and Dad on the veranda of the house they are renting in Sri Lanka. They love it there and I certainly cannot see them coming back to the UK now that they are both retired, especially in winter. The lifestyle is so different for retired people in a hot climate. And they can make their pension go a long way.’

‘Do you see them often?’

‘Once a year I save up for a flight and set up some appointments at the tea plantations. It’s an amazing treat, and tax deductible. Actually, the owner of the estate where my folks live will be at the tea festival next week. It will be nice to see him again, even if he is a tough negotiator when it comes to his best tea. Mum and Dad get on with him and he treats the estate workers very well.’

‘So you only see them once a year? That must be tough. Do they have Internet?’

She threw back her head and laughed out loud. ‘Oh please, don’t make me laugh. It took Lottie an hour to put this make-up on and she will go mad if I wipe it all off. But in answer to your question...’ she dabbed the corner of her eyes with a tissue ‘...my folks are anti-technology in a big way. That place they are renting has a generator which breaks down at regular intervals but they get by without it most of the time. So, no—no Internet, computer, mobile phone or anything close to what they think is the curse of western culture. But they do write lovely letters. And for that I am thankful.’

Then she paused. ‘And I’m talking way too much and not looking for shoes and we have a deadline. Righty; how about these?’

Dee turned and was about to dive into the shoebox when Sean stepped closer and took a gentle hold of both of her arms and smiled. ‘I would much rather listen to you talking about your parents all evening than face the trainee managers. My seminar on time management and productivity can wait until tomorrow. Because right now I have a much more pressing task. I owe you a huge apology, Miss Flynn.’

She cleared her throat and stared back at him wide-eyed. And blinked. Twice. Then waited in silence for him to finish.

‘When I fell into the tea shop the other evening and you decked me so delightfully, I filed you neatly away into a box labelled “sexy baker lady” who was responsible for my undignified first view of the tea rooms sitting on my butt. Ah; don’t tut at me like that, because as it happens my view has changed.’

He flashed her a quick wink. ‘Not about the sexy— that’s still up there—but I was temporarily blinded by the force of your exuberance into thinking that you might be exactly what you appear to be.’

Sean shook his head, looked around the bedroom and exhaled slowly as he moved his head from side to side. ‘Wrong. A thousand times wrong. Every day this week you have turned up to work wearing a riot of colour and pattern which has livened up my life and that of everyone you have met. But I am starting to see that that is only one tiny part of who you are.’

Then he stepped closer, then closer still, until he was totally inside her personal space, their bodies almost touching, tantalizingly close. So close that there was scarcely enough room for his hands to slide lightly onto her hips.

‘You fascinate me, Dee Flynn. How many sides to you are there? And, more importantly, why are you keeping them hidden? Tell me, because I would really love to know.’

‘Why do I wear bright clothing? That’s easy, Sean. It’s human nature to judge a book by its cover. You look at the clothes people are wearing and you make an instant judgement about who they are and what they do and where they fit in this crazy world. Especially in Britain, where the class system rules whether we like it or not.’

Her gaze scanned his body from head to toe.

‘Look at you—you go to work in a smart suit and shiny black shoes every day. I’ve never seen you in jeans and a T-shirt. Perhaps you don’t own those things. Perhaps this is who you are. And that’s fine. You own that suit; it’s gorgeous. And it’s your job.’

Dee gave a small shrug. ‘But the rest of us? The rest of us are doing the best we can to build bridges with people and make connections. I designed most of my day clothes, and they are friendly, open and welcoming for when I am working in the tea rooms. I love wearing them and it gives me pleasure. Practical too. They fit my personality. They express who I am. They are honest and real.’

‘So why are you wearing black this evening?’

Dee slid out of his arms, paced over to the window and drew back the curtain so that the cool night air played on her bare arms.

‘Isn’t it obvious, Sean?’

‘Not to me. Talk to me, Dee. Why black?’

She seemed to hesitate for a few seconds before whirling back towards him, and he was shocked to see tears in the corners of her glistening eyes.

‘I didn’t want to show you up. There; that’s it. Happy now?’

Each word hit him right between the eyes like a high-velocity ice cube that melted the second it reached his heart, which burned hot and angry.

No other woman had ever done that for him.

Wanted that for him.

She was not wearing this lovely couture outfit to impress the big cheeses—she was wearing it so that she did not embarrass him.

And it blew him away.

Sean ran his fingers along the slippery silk fabric of her silk kimono strewn on the bedcover. For once in his life, words were impossible.

He slipped his dinner jacket onto the back of the small desk-chair and took a second before turning back to face his amazing woman.

‘Not many people surprise me, Dee,’ he managed to say. ‘Not after a lifetime working in the hotel trade.’

Then he smiled and tapped the end of her nose with his forefinger. ‘You don’t need a little black dress to make you feel special. You could wear an old bath towel and still be gorgeous. Look at you. No, don’t pull away like that. I think that it’s time that you saw yourself through my eyes.’

‘What are you doing? We’re going to be late,’ Dee protested.

‘Then we are going to be late. You are more important than a room full of hotel management any day of the week. Okay? Besides, you have already pointed out that I have that stubborn streak, remember? I am not leaving this room until you have changed out of this dress and put on something which you love. Something you have chosen. Something you feel wonderful and special in. Then I might help you to choose the shoes.’

‘You want me to change? Into what? This dress was really expensive. I don’t have anything in my wardrobe to match it.’

‘I didn’t ask for an expensive dress to keep me company this evening. I asked you—Dervla Skylark Flynn. Not some designer clone. In fact, here is a challenge. What’s the one outfit you possess which is the exact opposite of a black designer dress? Come on, you must have one.’

She snorted and shook her head. ‘You mean my sari? I can’t wear that to a hotel dinner when all of your clan will be there.’

‘Yes.’ He smiled. ‘You can.’ And then he bit down on his lower lip and stepped in closer. So close that his chest was pressed against hers as he held her tight around the waist with both hands flat on her back.

‘But first we have to get you out of this dress. And, since I am the one who is insisting on it, I feel that it is my duty to help you.’ His lips brushed lightly across her forehead. ‘Every...’ he moved onto her temple ‘...inch...’ then her neck, nuzzling into the space below her ear with his cheek ‘...of the way.’

Dee closed her eyes and revelled in the glorious sensation of his cheek against hers, the feeling of his hot breath on her neck, the gentle friction of his hair on her ear. Whatever cologne or aftershave he was wearing should have been labelled with a hazard code and stored away in a bomb-proof box, because her sensitive nose and palate were overwhelmed with the rich, aromatic aroma blended with a base note that was nothing to do with a chemical laboratory and everything to do with the man who was wearing it.

Of course, she could feel the sensation of his fingers moving on her back but pressed so tight against his body it was suddenly irrelevant—the only thing that mattered was Sean and this moment they were together. Future. Past. Nothing else mattered but this moment. It was glorious.

So when he slowly, slowly inched his head away from her it was a shock. She eased open her eyes to find that his breathing was as fast as hers and she could see the pulse of the blood in the vein in his neck. Those blue eyes were wide, and the pupils startling deep and dark pools. Dark water so deep that she knew that she could dive into them and never find the bottom.

The intensity of that look was almost overwhelming and so mesmerizing that she could not break away.

No other man had ever looked at her like this before but she recognized it for what it was, and her heart sang. It was desire.

Seduction burned in Sean’s eyes. Hot and passionate and all-consuming.

His desire for her.

And it astonished her.

Astonished her so much that she forgot to be scared of all of the chaos that love, desire and passion could bring and focused on the joy instead.

He wanted her.

He wanted her badly.

And the huge red switch marked ‘danger’ that had been buried under a lifetime of disappointment and making do with second-hand love suddenly and instantly flicked up and turned green.

She wanted him right back. On her single bed. And wearing Lottie’s posh frock. Forget slow, she wanted fast. She wanted it all and she wanted it now.

It was almost a relief to turn in the circle of his arms so that she could not feel the burning heat of his intense gaze scorching her face.

But that was nothing compared to what she saw when she opened her eyes fully.

She was standing in front of her full-length bedroom mirror on the wardrobe door with Sean standing behind her.

Instinctively she lifted both hands and pressed them to her chest as Sean slid Lottie’s black dress away from her shoulders on each side. He had unzipped it as she enjoyed him. Now it was free and all that was holding it up, and protecting her modesty, were her two hands.

Dee stared at the girl in the mirror. Her hair was messed up, her eyes and skin glowing, and there was a handsome man with tight curled brown hair kissing her naked neck and, oh lord, her shoulders.

It was getting very hard to breathe but she could not look away, dared not look away, from the view in the mirror.

Sean was looking at the back of her neck as though it was the most beautiful and fascinating thing that he had ever seen, his fingertips stroking her skin from the innermost curve of her neck and along her collarbone. She could feel the heat from his touch, and the sensation of those fingertips was almost too much for her to tolerate.

A shiver of delicious excitement ran across her back and she saw Sean smile back at her in the mirror.

Lottie Rosemount had a lot to answer for. The mocha lace bra and shorts-style pants she was wearing had been a Christmas present from her, but not even the lovely Lottie could have anticipated that they would be on display in this way when Dee had slipped into them straight out of the shower only an hour earlier.

Slowly Sean brought his hands to the front, laid them over hers and whispered in her right ear in a voice that she could have spread on hot crumpets.

‘I want you to see yourself the way I see you. You don’t need the dress.’

Dee smiled back at the man in the mirror as he slowly unfurled one finger at a time until only her palms were holding the couture dress against her bra.

‘Do you trust me, Dee?’

Speech was impossible but she hesitated. This was it. If she wanted a way out, this was the time to say something or do something to take back control. Instead of which her head lifted and fell in a simple yes, and she was rewarded by a truly filthy grin.

And just like that she grinned back and pulled her hands away so that the dress fell to the floor in a heap around her feet.

She would have bent down to pick it up but that would have meant bending down while Sean was still holding her tight around the waist.

Bad idea! Such a bad idea!

So instead she swallowed down a sea of doubt and looked back at the mirror and the girl who was standing there in her underwear, with Sean’s arms around her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder.

‘Tell me what you see,’ he whispered.

Her head dropped back and she half-closed her eyes, surrendering her entire body to his hands as they moved in firm and gentle circles in a delicious blissful movement.

Dee dared to open her eyes and watch the scene in the mirror.

Sean stroked and caressed her breasts through the flimsy fabric of her bra, lifting up her left breast then the right. He was slow and gentle, as though he was not in the slightest rush and they had all night to explore one another’s bodies.

She felt Sean unclip her bra but did nothing to stop him and leaned back against him, feeling her bare skin on the crisp, white dinner shirt and not caring that she was probably creasing it.

The window was still slightly open and the chilly breeze wafted in, making her nipples stand proud inside her bra, pushing against the lace.

Sean noticed. She could see his reaction, feel the rise and fall of his chest and the pressure against her back from his trousers.

But instead of going for her nipples the pads of his soft fingertips expertly stroked down from her collarbone down over the top of her cleavage, as though he knew instinctively that was the most sensitive part of her neck.

Then her breasts. Exposed to the air, the dark skin around her nipples was already raised and ready. His fingers stroked all along the length of the side of her breast, moving into a more circular pressure, but then he looked up into the mirror.

But then his fingers paused, and every inch of her skin screamed out for release as he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder so that they were both staring into the mirror at the same time.

‘We need to be somewhere. And I need to get some air. Cold air.’

He pressed his lips to her throat and grinned. ‘The sacrifices I make for my family. Oh yes...’ And with one last, long, shuddering sigh he slipped back, picked up his jacket and walked slowly out of the bedroom.