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Holiday with a Stranger
Christy McKellen


‘Who are you?’After three months travelling all Connor Preston wants to do is sink into his own bed. The last thing he expects is to find a stark-naked woman already there…Josie Marchpane wasn’t anticipating company either. Connor might be six foot four inches of pure muscle, and boast a disturbingly sexy smile, but a fortnight in the South of France is the one thing standing between Josie and her sanity – and she’s not about to give it up without a fight!Josie plays to win. The problem…? Connor does too. And, with only one bed between them, things are about to get interesting…







Josie’s heart slammed against her chest as adrenalin ricocheted through her body. She could barely make out the features of the enormous man standing at the foot of the bed, but she’d swear she could feel his anger.

‘What do you want?’ It was a reflex question—one she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer to—and it came out as a shaky whisper.

‘I want my bed.’

‘What do you mean, your bed? Who the hell are you?’

‘Connor Preston. I own this place,’ he said. ‘Who are you?’

The gruff timbre of the voice coming at her through the gloom was unnerving.

‘I’m Abigail’s business partner—Josie Marchpane. Abi said I could stay here for a while …’ She tailed off as his expression grew darker.

‘Is that right?’ He was abrupt now, unfriendly.

‘Look, do you mind?’ She forced her shoulders back and tipped up her chin. ‘I’m not exactly prepared for socialising right now. Can we talk about this in the morning?’

Connor dragged his gaze up from where her fingers grasped the towel and frowned. ‘Where am I supposed to sleep? You’ve taken the only bed.’

‘If I’d known you were coming we could have worked something out.’

‘Worked something out, huh?’

He dropped his gaze down her body, taking in the swell of her figure that the towel barely concealed. The disturbing throb began again, deep inside her. She reached round and pulled the towel tighter, unnerved by his attention. It was disconcerting, being half-naked in front of a total stranger. Especially one as unsettling as Connor Preston.


Dear Reader

Ah, the South of France—home of the most delicious sun-ripened tomatoes, Mediterranean storms and the sultry air of pleasure and possibility. The ideal setting for a workaholic with a chip on her shoulder to lose her inhibitions and finally start to live.

As characters on a page Connor and Josie have been on a long journey together. They’ve been shacked up in the electronic ether for a few years now, but they just wouldn’t let me into their secret world until I picked them up again a year or so ago and they finally started talking to me. Suddenly I got them—and about time too!

I love these two together. They’re both headstrong and determined but with a soft centre, both crying out for kindness and patience and a deeper understanding of what they intrinsically need. They’ve been running from their pasts and the weight of expectations for so long they’ve lost their way. Until they’re forced to share a house, sit still for once and talk.

I hope you enjoy travelling with them on their journey to emotional freedom and love as much as I did.

With best wishes

Christy X


Holiday with a Stranger

Christy McKellen




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


BK (Before Kids) CHRISTY MCKELLEN worked as a video and radio producer in London and Nottingham. After a decade of dealing with nappies, tantrums and endless questions from toddlers she has come out the other side and moved into the wonderful world of literature. She now spends her time writing flirty, sexy romance with a kick—her dream job!

In her downtime she can be found drinking the odd glass of champagne, ambling around the beautiful South West of England, or escaping from real life by dashing off to foreign lands with her fabulous family.

Christy loves to hear from readers. You can contact her at:

www.christymckellen.blogspot.com

http://www.facebook.com/christymckellenauthor

https://twitter.com/ChristyMcKellen

This is Christy McKellen’s debut for Modern Tempted™ and is available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk


Where do I start with the thanks? So many people have supported and encouraged me with my writing through the years. First of all my wonderful family. What would I do without you? You believed I could do it even when I didn’t.

To my brilliant critique partners: Jill Steeples, Cait O’Sullivan and Lucy Oliver. Thank you for the generous loan of your eagle eyes and the time you took to read the manuscript and help me make it sparkle.

To Aimee Carson, Kristina Knight, Merri McDonagh and Liz Logan for their continued support over the years.

To Flo, my fabulous editor, for believing in this story and making me dance for joy on the beach after The Call.

To my good friend Caroline—who will probably never read this—thank you for giving me the space and time to write.

Lastly, to Tom. You know why.


Contents

Chapter One (#u1a29d13f-51aa-5062-aaa8-4a9dadb4ea93)

Chapter Two (#u5ba4f218-d865-5ae4-b093-73ab463d6246)

Chapter Three (#u76625ced-47f4-54cc-83ac-cf39aa246a75)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)


ONE

Connor Preston couldn’t believe his eyes. She was sitting on his bed in the moonlight, brazen as you like, with her slender back curved towards him. One arm propped her up, taking her weight, and her head was dipped, as if she were posing for one of those romance book covers he’d seen in the airport newsagents.

He guessed she’d just got out of the shower, because her long blonde hair hung in wet clumps around her shoulders. He watched in irritation as a water droplet ran down the shadowed line of her spine before dripping onto his bedspread.

Through his travel-weary eyes she seemed to cast a glow in front of her, as if all the cloying positivity she used to force on him day after day radiated from her.

Katherine Meers.

He’d thought he’d finally convinced her it was over between them, but here she was, waiting naked in his bed again, in his holiday home. A holiday home that he couldn’t remember ever telling her about. Was nowhere a safe haven from her needy optimism?

‘What the hell are you doing in my bed, Katherine?’ He knew his voice was gruff and unfriendly—nothing like the laid-back drawl he’d cultivated over the years—but he was tired and grumpy and not in the mood for another showdown with his stalker ex-girlfriend.

But even that didn’t explain the way she reacted.

Her scream was so loud he thought he felt his eardrums perforating. Her whole body jerked in fright and something gleamed momentarily in a wide arc in front of her, before raining down onto the bed with a worryingly loud splat.

Hair flying, she twisted round towards him and he caught a tantalising flash of her pert breasts—which were rather larger than he remembered—before she grabbed the towel that pooled around her waist and whipped it up around her.

Gazing at her shocked face in the pale glow of the moonlight, he realised he’d made a mistake.

This wasn’t Katherine.

This was an altogether different problem.

* * *

Josie’s heart slammed against her chest as adrenaline ricocheted through her body. After staring at her laptop in the dark for the past ten minutes she had to work hard to get her eyes to focus on the looming shape in front of her. She could barely make out the features of the enormous man standing at the foot of the bed, but she’d swear she could feel his anger.

‘What do you want?’ It was a reflex question—one she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer to—and it came out as a shaky whisper.

‘I want my bed.’ His voice was quieter this time, not exactly friendly, but there was a hint of bemusement mixed in with the exasperation.

Confusion engulfed her. Perhaps she was dreaming? The situation was certainly bizarre enough to be one of her dreams.

‘What do you mean your bed? Who the hell are you? You scared the crap out of me.’

The man took a pace backwards in response to her rankled tone and raised his hands, palms forward. Surrender.

‘Look, I’m sorry for scaring you.’ His voice softened. ‘I thought you were...’ He paused. ‘Someone else.’

Josie’s eyes were slowly becoming accustomed to the dark as her night vision improved. She watched as the tension left his body. Perhaps he wasn’t going to attack her, but she inched closer to her bedside lamp just in case, her muscles tight with anxiety.

She was distracted for a moment by the tinny sound of her music, playing through the earphones that had prevented her hearing his approach—which were now lying discarded on the bed.

Wrenching her attention back, she asked, ‘So who are you?’ forcing more authority into her voice this time, in an attempt to take control of the situation.

Perhaps if she could convince him she was in charge he might leave her alone. She’d heard somewhere that when cornered the best type of defence was attack. Although her only actual experience of being attacked was fighting for funding for the business—facing down aggressively assertive venture capitalists—which was not the same thing as a midnight stand-off with a strange man.

‘Connor Preston. I own this place,’ he said.

Josie blew out a small sigh, her heart-rate slowing a fraction. Preston. Okay. He must be Abigail’s brother—the wanderer—returning home from a life living off his trust fund. He wasn’t what she’d expected at all. Abigail was the total opposite of her brother: petite and willowy. This man was anything but petite. It was hard to gauge from her position in the bed, but she’d guess he was at least six foot four and built like an ox. Not the sort of vision you wanted to encounter alone in the middle of the night.

‘Who are you?’ The gruff timbre of his voice coming at her through the gloom was unnerving.

She leant across and switched on the bedside light. Yup, he was big, all right, and rugged and unshaven. His dark blond hair looked as if it could do with a cut and his clothes were creased and unkempt. He looked exhausted; his eyes dull with fatigue. Based on what Abigail had told her, she guessed he must be in his early thirties—only a few years older than her—but he looked as though he’d lived through every second of them. He had a strong face—not classically handsome, but definitely arresting. The type of man who would always be noticed, no matter where he was or who he was with.

Her skin prickled as he scrutinised her in return and a hot flush travelled through her body, leaving a sizzling pulse in the most unnerving places.

‘I’m Abigail’s business partner. Josie Marchpane,’ she said, aware her voice was somewhat squeakier than normal. She waited for a sign of recognition on his face. It didn’t come; he just stared back, assessing her. ‘Abi said I could stay here for a while....’ She tailed off as his expression grew darker.

‘Is that right?’ His tone was abrupt now, and unfriendly.

There was a heavy silence in the room as they looked at each other.

Silence?

Something was wrong.

The music had stopped playing. With horror, Josie suddenly realised that, in the shock of Connor’s appearance she’d forgotten about the drink she’d thrown all over the bed...and her laptop.

Twisting round, she looked down to see the screen had gone black. When she tapped the space bar, then jabbed all the other buttons in panic, nothing happened.

It looked as if her laptop hadn’t agreed with being showered with juice, and had died in disgust.

‘No, no, no, no, no!’ All the work she’d done since she’d got here was on that machine. She’d stupidly assumed there would be an internet connection, so she could back her work up, but that had been another surprise that Abi hadn’t warned her about. Deliberately. She was sure of it.

‘What’s wrong?’

Connor’s deep drawl broke into her consciousness. She’d almost forgotten him in her panic.

‘I just killed my computer with orange juice.’ It would have been funny if it wasn’t so absolutely devastating. Losing her laptop was tantamount to losing her right hand.

‘Orange juice?’ He nodded slowly. ‘So that’s what you’ve christened my bed with.’

Irritation got the better of her. How could he be concerned about the state of the bed when her laptop had kicked the bucket?

‘I’ve just lost three days’ worth of work.’

He appeared unfazed by her snippy tone. ‘Do you always work naked?’ Crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow, he gave her a look that bordered on seductive.

The hairs on her arms stood up in response and heat burned in her belly. Acutely aware of her nakedness under the towel, she broke eye contact and looked around for her clothes. She’d have to walk past him to get to them. That meant skirting the end of the bed and passing within a foot of him. The thought made her uneasy and a little tick throbbed in her eye.

Rubbing a hand over her face, she tried to wipe away the befuddling mix of sensations. ‘I was in the shower and I had a thought.’ Her voice trembled and she cleared her throat to relieve the tightness.

He tilted his head in an approximation of bewildered understanding.

She sighed. ‘I’m writing a tender document for work and I was hit with inspiration. I didn’t want to forget it before I had a chance to write it down.’

‘I get it,’ he said, giving a bemused shake of his head.

Good God, he knew how to get under her skin.

‘Look, do you mind?’ She forced her shoulders back and tipped up her chin. ‘I’m not exactly prepared for socialising right now. Can we talk about this in the morning?’

Connor dragged his gaze up from where her fingers grasped the towel and frowned. ‘Where am I supposed to sleep? You’ve taken the only bed.’

‘Try the sofa.’

The look on his face almost made her laugh.

‘I’ve been travelling for three months. I was looking forward to finally sleeping in my own bed.’

‘If I’d known you were coming we could have worked something out,’ she retorted.

‘Worked something out, huh?’ He dropped his gaze down her body, taking in the swell of her figure that the towel barely concealed.

The disturbing throb began again, deep inside her. She pulled the towel tighter, unnerved by his attention. It was disconcerting being half-naked in front of a total stranger. Especially one as unsettling as Connor Preston.

‘You know what I mean,’ she said, nerves making her tone snappy again. The heavy unease she’d been wrestling with for the past week stretched its tentacles. She blew out a steadying breath, counted to three. ‘Look, can we sleep on it tonight and work it out in the morning? I doubt you want to sleep in a damp, orange-soaked bed anyway, right?’ She cocked what she hoped would come across as an affable smile.

He continued to size her up for a moment. ‘Okay,’ he said slowly, then ran a hand over his tired eyes. ‘I’ve been travelling all day and I haven’t got the energy to deal with this now. I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight. We’ll talk in the morning.’

He turned abruptly and left the room, slamming the door behind him and leaving her shaky and bewildered.

* * *

Josie woke late the next morning.

After failing to resuscitate her laptop she’d scribbled down as much as she could remember from the tender document, trying not to let panic sink its teeth into her, before falling into a fitful sleep. Her senses had been on high alert following the run-in with Connor, and every creak and groan in the old property had made her jump. She’d finally dropped off just as the birds started their dawn chorus, exhaustion winning the battle over her adrenalised body.

She lay staring at the ceiling, cursing her bad luck. It hadn’t been the best few weeks ever and it didn’t look as though things were about to improve any time soon. Hopefully her computer would dry out and boot up again in a few hours, so she wouldn’t have to spend the next week reconstructing the whole document. If not—well, she’d have to find a repair shop somewhere and see if it was salvageable. More delays. Just what she didn’t need. Just what the business didn’t need.

And she had another problem now. Abigail’s brother was obviously annoyed to find someone else using his house—which was understandable; if she’d come home to find someone in her bed she’d have been totally thrown too—but she’d promised Abi that she’d have a proper break away after the whole humiliating debacle at work.

If only she hadn’t lost her cool and flipped out like that in front of everyone perhaps Abi would have taken her worries about the state of the business more seriously. She’d ended up looking like a total loon.

No wonder her business partner had been so firm about her staying here for a couple of weeks—in her words ‘to give everyone a chance to calm down and work things through’—and she hadn’t wanted to argue and strain their precarious relationship further. Agreeing to a couple of weeks here had seemed like a sensible compromise, but Connor wanting this place too had thrown a spanner in the works. She really didn’t need the hassle of finding some faceless hotel to stay in during peak season. Anyway, this place was just as much Abi’s as Connor’s, and she’d arrived here first.

With newfound determination she tossed back the covers and slipped out of bed, pausing for a moment to luxuriate in the feel of her toes digging into the soft Persian rug before going to the antique wardrobe to find some clothes. Grabbing a pair of jeans and a loose T-shirt, she pulled them on, then stripped the king-sized brass bed, bundling up the sheets ready to stick in the washing machine.

When she’d arrived a few days ago she’d been blown away by the beauty of the place. She’d expected a rundown holiday home in the middle of nowhere. Instead she’d found a characterful farmhouse a twenty-minute drive from Aix-en-Provence.

It had a large kitchen diner and a cosy, snug downstairs, complete with battered leather sofas and an old wood-burning stove. The air smelt delicious—like herbs and woodsmoke and sunshine. Nothing like the sanitised holiday lets her mother had used to scour with foul-smelling disinfectant when they first arrived on their interminable family vacations. Upstairs there was a large bathroom with an enormous claw-footed bath and a separate shower cubicle, along with a beautiful antique vanity unit. Worryingly, she remembered, of the three bedrooms only one was furnished: the one she was currently sleeping in. The others looked as though they were being used to store various strangely shaped equipment and large crates of goodness only knew what.

So only one bed.

She needed to talk to Abigail’s brother and find out his plans. Then, if he meant to stay, gently persuade him to change them. Or maybe not so gently, if it came to that. The last thing she needed was someone asking questions and spoiling her fragile peace. She was going to do her time here, prove to Abi that she was fit and rested enough to come back to work, then get on with advancing the business.

She was used to hard bargaining at work; compared to that, this ought to be a relatively easy battle to win.

Glancing at herself in the mirror, she was confronted with a scary sight. Her normally immaculate sweep of blonde hair was mussed and sticking out at odd angles after she’d slept on it wet and she had dark circles under her eyes.

Once she’d pulled a brush through her hair and tied it back in a tight bun she splashed her face with cold, reviving water from the white porcelain sink in the room. That would have to do for now. First breakfast, then a shower, then a confrontation with Connor Preston.

Descending the stairs, she was hit by the tantalising aromas of fresh coffee and bacon.

He was up already.

There was a mound of mud-splattered bags at the door and a pair of large hiking boots leant haphazardly against the wall in the hallway.

What big feet you have, Mr Preston.

Her memory of him was blurry this morning, as if she’d dreamed him.

No such luck.

He was standing at the stove with his back to her, but as she moved quietly into the kitchen he turned around. Her insides lurched as they made eye contact.

‘Good morning. I trust you found my bed comfortable?’

His voice was a low rumble, but a little friendlier than the previous night. And, yup, he was just as impressive as she remembered. An unwelcome tingle tickled the base of her spine.

Think of it as a business negotiation, Josie. Do not let him charm you. You are a strong, capable woman. Take control.

‘Yes, thanks,’ she replied lightly. She would not apologise for not budging last night. She didn’t want him to get the impression she was some sort of sappy push-over and lose any advantage she might have.

He gestured towards a seat at the table with a lazy flick of his hand. ‘Sit. I’ll get us some breakfast and we’ll talk.’

His commanding tone rankled, but she ignored it and took the seat opposite him, straightening her spine and leaning into the table, ready to fight her corner. She needed to choose her battles wisely here.

He had quite a presence. A big man, with a natural strength and a broad build, he certainly looked powerful, but not pumped up like a boxer or a body-builder. Intimidating.

She wasn’t used to feeling dwarfed. Her six-foot frame usually afforded her a sense of authority, but she wasn’t feeling the power of it with him around.

He took a break from stirring the eggs to run a hand through his shaggy blond hair, swiping the fringe out of his eyes. Something about this simple action sent a frisson of excitement through her. What the hell was wrong with her? Clearly she hadn’t had enough sleep. She laced her fingers together under the table to stop them twitching in her lap.

In a daze, she watched him pour coffee into large earthenware mugs and pile bacon and scrambled eggs onto plates. After sliding them onto the table he sat opposite her and began to shovel food into his mouth without even glancing her way.

It took him less than two minutes to clear his plate, and afterwards he leant back in his chair and waited patiently for her to finish. Josie could feel his gaze burning into her skin, but forced her eyes to look down at her plate, willing her hand to stay steady as she forked eggs into her mouth.

Finally, pushing her plate away, she picked up her coffee and looked at him. He continued to observe her without breaking his gaze. She could sense the force of his will, digging away at her defences. He clearly didn’t want her company any more than she wanted his.

Her heart played in quick time against her chest, but she didn’t look away.

This must be the way he wins his battles, Josie thought. By silent intimidation. He’d just wait for her to break and say she’d leave. She’d come across this strategy before at work. Being a woman in a high-powered position meant she had to deal with this kind of resistance a lot, and she’d become pretty good at fielding it, so instead of looking away she stared right back.

His eyes were an attention-grabbing ice-blue, ringed with graphite-grey, and the intensity in his gaze almost broke her.

Not today, matey.

After what felt like an age Connor placed his mug back on the table and allowed a slow smile to spread across his face. At once his rugged features came alive: his eyes lit with warmth and the sharp angles of his face softened, making him seem younger, more playful and somehow more human. It was a deliciously sexy sight.

Her whole body trembled as a surge of lust blindsided her and hot coffee slopped over the rim of the mug onto her lap.

Damn it.

Gritting her teeth, she ignored the burning sensation as the liquid soaked into her jeans, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

His smile morphed into a quizzical frown. ‘You okay? That must have stung.’

‘I’m fine,’ she muttered, putting her mug carefully onto the table before she did any more damage to herself.

He took advantage of her weakened state to launch his attack. ‘So, Josie, when are you leaving?’

His tone was even, as if he were making polite conversation, but she felt the power behind the words. Oh, he was good, all right.

Drawing her shoulders back, she gave him her fully-in-control face before answering, noting with satisfaction that he’d leant further back in his chair and broken eye contact, dipping his gaze to somewhere below her neck.

‘In a week or two. Abigail offered this place to me and I accepted in good faith.’ She looked at him hard, determined to keep it together. ‘I haven’t had a holiday for three years and she thought I could do with the break.’

That was understating the facts a little, but there was no way she was admitting the whole truth to him. She was too proud. Plus, it was none of his damn business.

He rubbed his hand over his eyes, obviously still tired after travelling and then sleeping on the less than man-sized sofa.

She actually felt her insides softening. ‘Look, I know this is your place, and you probably want to relax in peace, but you can’t just kick me out.’ She jabbed a finger at him. ‘This house is just as much Abigail’s as yours, and you weren’t supposed to be coming back any time soon. Why didn’t you let her know?’

He leant in towards her and she couldn’t help but move away from the overwhelming force of his sudden proximity. ‘I don’t answer to anyone—especially not my damn sister.’ He tapped his finger hard on the table. ‘She knows this is where I base myself when I’m not travelling, she never comes here, and I don’t see why I should put up with her waifs and strays when the whim takes her.’

His voice was low and steady, all cool control and understated power, but she refused to be scared off.

‘I’m not a waif or a stray, and I’m not going anywhere.’ She crossed her arms and bit down hard on her lip. His eyes dropped to her mouth and she shifted self-consciously in her seat. Blood pulsed through her veins as his eyes slowly returned to hers, his pupils large and dark against his irises.

She released her lip and rubbed her tongue over it in response. What had made her do that? She needed to argue her case convincingly here and keep focused on her goal. Instead her body seemed intent on deliberately provoking a physical reaction out of him. This was really unlike her. She rarely flirted. She didn’t have time for it.

‘What do you propose I do? Sleep on the couch until you decide to leave?’ he said, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

She spread out her hands on the tabletop and took a steadying breath before spearing him with her sternest stare. ‘As far as I understand it, Abi has as much right to this place as you do. This is supposed to be my holiday—a chance to get some peace and quiet. It’s not my fault you two can’t communicate properly.’

His smile faltered. ‘You expect me to leave?’

That awful softening thing was happening again. Ignore it, Josie. Stand firm. ‘Yes.’ She waited for his response, her fingers now drumming a soft beat on the table.

‘Why would I do that?’ His expression was impassive.

‘Because I was here first.’

He barked out a laugh. ‘You’re calling dibs on my house?’

‘It’s a perfectly valid negotiating technique.’

He considered her for a moment and she shifted in her chair, straightening her back in readiness for his next move.

‘Do you cook?’

What the hell?

‘Not unless you count microwaving ready meals or sloshing milk over cereal.’

Connor raised his eyebrows. ‘I don’t.’

She crossed her arms. ‘Then, no, I don’t cook.’

Connor gave her a questioning look and she flushed under his scrutiny.

She shrugged, fighting the heat of her discomfort. ‘My job’s demanding. The last thing I want to do when I get in is cook.’

‘Really? I find it relaxing.’

His eyes searched her face and her skin heated in response.

‘What do you do to relax?’

There was a hint of reproach in his expression as his gaze locked with hers. She shifted in her chair, looking away from him. Why was he making her feel so uncomfortable? She had nothing to be ashamed about.

‘I go to the gym sometimes.’ She racked her brain, trying to find something to impress him with, but nothing came to mind.

Connor shook his head slowly, radiating disapproval, but his expression softened as he leant in closer to her. The hairs on the back of her neck lifted in response and her heart pummelled her chest as his gaze roved her face before dropping to her lips.

‘I’m sure we can think of some way to work this out.’

His voice was low and the double meaning was not lost on her. He stood suddenly, pushing his chair away from the table and grabbing their plates, turning to dump them next to the sink. He stilled, staring down at the counter, before turning back. There was a challenge in his expression now.

‘You can cut my hair.’

Josie blinked at him in surprise, her body a tangle of confusion and lust. What was he doing to her? The mixture of forceful self-confidence and provocative teasing was disorientating her, turning her insides to mulch and her brain to jelly.

‘Did you say you want me to cut your hair?’

‘Yes.’

She gave him a stunned smile. ‘What’s wrong with going to a hairdresser?’

‘A waste of money. Anyway, I’m not losing a morning driving to Aix just to get a haircut. I’m sick of it hanging in my face—you just need to chop a couple of inches off all round. Then I’ll be ready to face the world.’

Relaxing her arms, she dropped her hands into her lap and tapped her fingers together. ‘If I do it will you let me have the house?’

He shrugged. ‘Depends on how good a job you do.’

She snorted. ‘What if I make a mess of it?’

‘I’m trusting you not to. Come on, Josie, it’s not rocket science. You know the general principle, right? Look, I can’t get my fingers in those piddly little nail scissors, and the only other sharp things I have in this house are the kitchen knives and the garden shears.’

‘I may end up needing those. It looks like you’ve been washing your hair with engine oil.’

That tantalising smile played about his lips again and her stomach flipped over.

‘Yeah, well, it’s tough finding a power shower in the middle of a rainforest.’

He flicked his hair out of his eyes with those long, strong-looking fingers and her hands did a nervous sort of skitter in her lap. What would it feel like to be in such close proximity to that powerful frame and all that hard muscle? Blood rushed straight between her legs, causing a hard ache there, and before she could stop herself she rocked forward in the chair to try and relieve the pressure.

Clearing her throat to dislodge the strangling tension, she tore her gaze away from him to scan the kitchen cupboards, the dresser, the patio doors—anywhere but his irresistible body—while her heart thumped against her chest. She needed to stand up and move around before she started rutting the chair. What the hell was going on with her crazy body?

‘So where are these scissors, then?’

He was smiling when she looked back at him and the victory on his face made her frown. How had he managed to talk her into this? But then what the hell? If that was what it took to get rid of him, so be it. She’d never been one to walk away from a challenge. She’d also never cut hair in her life. Still, it wasn’t her problem if he ended up looking as if a child had got busy with the scissors while he was asleep. Maybe she should make a mess of it just to pay him back for that supercilious expression.

Despite being rather taken with the idea, she knew she wouldn’t. She was too much of a good girl, and she wanted him gone.

‘They’re in the middle drawer of the dresser,’ he said, nodding towards the grand piece of furniture at the back of the kitchen.

‘Okay. You get them and I’ll grab a towel.’

He gave her a quizzical look, but there was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. ‘You want me in just a towel for this?’

From his expression she guessed he was quite taken with the idea, and her insides twisted in a strange, excited sort of way.

‘That won’t be necessary. It’s to keep the hair off your clothes,’ she said through oddly numb lips.

‘You’re the boss,’ he said, getting up and striding over to the dresser.

She legged it out of the kitchen and up the stairs, taking her time to find the oldest-looking towel out of the linen cupboard and sucking in deep breaths until she felt composed enough to be in the same room with him again. At least he’d be leaving after this, she told herself, ignoring a niggle of disappointment that came out of nowhere. She needed alone time right now.

Right?

Returning to the kitchen, she found he’d dragged a chair into the middle of the floor and was seated, waiting patiently for her to get back.

‘Not too much off the top,’ he said as she approached him and laid the towel gently over his wide shoulders.

It wasn’t long enough to meet across his chest and after a moment of fussing with it she left it to hang there.

God, the size of him.

She wasn’t going to have to bend down far to get on a level with his head. Nerves jumping, she picked up the scissors and tentatively ran her hands through his mop of hair, gauging the best place to start.

He groaned gently in response and she almost jumped away in fright.

‘I can already tell you’ve got magic hands,’ he said.

From the tone of his voice he was clearly enjoying winding her up, and she kicked herself for allowing him to make her so jittery. Putting her fingers back into his hair, she pulled it harder this time, in an attempt to show him who was in charge.

He chuckled: a low, seductive sound that made her mouth water.

Flipping heck, Josie, pull it together.

After taking a first tentative snip—and finding it actually seemed to look okay—she worked her way around his head, cutting the top first, to reveal the smooth, darker underside of his hair.

Heat rose from his scalp as she worked and her stiff fingers warmed up, allowing her to cut faster. She pictured her own hairdresser, Lenny, and focused on what he did when cutting her hair, working her way carefully.

It felt odd not to talk while she worked, and the silence lay thick and heavy in the large kitchen. What the hell was she supposed to talk about? What would Lenny do?

Make small talk. You can do that, right? Just say something, Josie. Anything.

‘You know, you look nothing like I expected,’ she said.

‘No?’ His voice was infused with amusement.

‘You’re so...’ She willed her addled brain to come up with any word except the one fighting to get out.

She lost.

‘Big.’

He turned to catch her eye and she looked away quickly, so as not to get sucked into flirty banter with him—not when she was so close she could inhale the minty aroma of his toothpaste and the dark undertones of whatever product he used on his body that made him smell so—what was the word? Appetising...

Thank God for the soothing action of lifting and snipping at his hair. Mercifully, it helped her maintain focus, although her cool was shot to pieces.

‘Judging by your complexion and the size of your frame I’m guessing there’s some Scandinavian blood in there somewhere?’ she barrelled on.

‘Icelandic.’

‘I’d never have guessed that from your sister—she’s so dark. Hair and complexion.’ Okay, this was good. Well, better. Sort of...

‘She got the French blood.’

‘On your mother’s side?’ Lift, pull, snip.

‘Yeah, my paternal grandmother was French. This was her home. She left it to me and Abi when she died.’

There was a change in his posture and a new tension in his jaw that made her wonder what he’d omitted from that statement. A memory of Abi telling her their grandmother was the only person Connor had ever cared about swam into her mind.

She paused, not quite sure how to frame her next question. ‘Abi says she hasn’t seen you in a long time?’

His head moved up a notch as his shoulders stiffened. ‘No.’

She waited for him to elucidate but the silence stretched on.

‘I think she’d like to see you sometime.’

‘Hmm...’

She’d hit a conversational roadblock. Another approach, maybe? ‘So what keeps you so busy?’

‘I travel a lot.’ His tone was dismissive, as if he were closing down this conversation too.

Don’t give up, Josie.

‘You’ve just got back from somewhere?’

‘South America. I’m leaving for India in a few days.’

Abi hadn’t told her much about Connor—only that he was always on the move and never came to England to see her. They’d been on a rare night out and three cocktails down when she’d talked about him. There had been a heavy sadness to her tone, and an unhappy resignation to his snubbing of her. His name hadn’t been mentioned since and Josie had tactfully avoided mentioning him again.

From Abi’s description of him she’d expected a self-aggrandising playboy with power issues—not this challenging, provocative giant of a man.

Moving round to the front of him, she made sure to keep looking only at the long fringe of hair left to cut. The heat of his gaze burned her skin as she shuffled between his spread thighs to get close enough to reach in. With shaking hands she took hold of the front of it, the backs of her fingers gently brushing the warm skin of his forehead. His heat invaded her and she experienced a whole body flush which concentrated into a core of molten lava in the depths of her pelvis. She wished her hair wasn’t pulled back so severely so she could hide her fiery face in the safety of its protective curtain.

After snipping at the length of hair until she was satisfied, she took a step back away from his weird vortexlike pull and dropped the scissors onto the kitchen table.

‘You’re done.’

He was looking at her with a curious expression. ‘You know, there’s something very familiar about you.’

Dammit. Just when she’d thought she’d got away with it. She really didn’t want to talk about her sister right now.

She shrugged. ‘I have one of those faces. You’ve never met me before.’ He seemed satisfied with this answer, thank goodness, and threw her a quick nod.

Pulling off the towel, he dropped it onto the floor. ‘How does it look?’

Meeting his gaze, she willed her cheeks to deflame. ‘Actually, it looks pretty good.’ She was oddly pleased with how successful a cut it was, considering she’d never done it before in her life.

He nodded, releasing his slow grin, then turned abruptly and walked out of the room and up the stairs—she guessed to check his new haircut for himself.

Grateful for this small reprieve, she grabbed a dustpan and brush from under the sink and swept up the hair that had landed on the floor, her body humming with alien sensations. She hoped to goodness her face would return to some kind of normal colour by the time he got back.

She’d cleared up every bit of hair and made herself another drink by the time he returned, his face now scrupulously clean-shaven.

What a transformation. All her blood dashed south to pulse wildly between her thighs as she took in his new, clean-cut appearance. He’d pulled his shorn hair into messy spikes, and now his bristles weren’t obscuring it his bone structure seemed ridiculously and beautifully chiselled. He was the picture of pure, healthy, brute strength.

‘Okay. So we’re good here,’ he said, apparently unaware of the catastrophic effect he was having on her. ‘You’ve earned your right to stay.’

Sucking in a deep breath, she attempted to jump-start her brain into functioning. ‘So that’s it? Negotiation over? You’re leaving?’

He laughed and stepped closer to her. She took half a step back before checking herself.

Hold steady there, Josie.

‘You’re not getting rid of me that easily. You seem to be a useful sort of person to have around. I’m only going to be here for a few days, but I’ll take the sofa since you won dibs.’

Before she had a chance to protest he spun round, pulling open the patio doors and exiting onto the terrace, shouting, ‘Dinner at eight!’ over his shoulder as he strode away.


TWO

After making his sharp exit Connor wandered down to the bottom of the farmhouse’s land and along the perimeter. In front of him the sun-washed landscape throbbed with colour, the vibrant greens and yellows of the rapeseed crops standing stark against the sea of lavender in fields that stretched for miles. In the distance chalky white mountains broke against the azure-blue of the sky.

It was his idea of heaven on earth.

He loved this place. It felt as far away from reality as you could get. That appealed to him. That and the simplicity of it.

He leant on the wooden fence and assessed what had just happened.

Josie Marchpane was seriously disturbing, that was for sure. He wasn’t easily impressed, but this woman—oh, man, did she have something. There was something familiar about her too, but he couldn’t put his finger on it and that bothered him.

When he’d found out she was here at Abigail’s invitation his instinct had been to try and get rid of her as quickly as possible. He wasn’t interested in ever seeing his self-serving sister again, and even less willing to entertain one of her friends in his house. But the more he’d talked to Josie, the more he’d come to like her. She didn’t buckle easily and he respected that.

Despite the dark circles under her eyes and the ghostly pallor she was hot. It wasn’t the delicate contours of her heart-shaped face that got to him, or even the endless expanse of leg hiding beneath those expensive-looking jeans. It was her almond-shaped hazel eyes that flashed with fire when she was on the defensive. He wasn’t used to being stood up to, let alone put in his place, and he found he kind of liked it.

He knew he had an effect on her too, no matter how hard she was trying to disguise it. It was visible in the flare of her pupils and the flush of colour on her cheeks; in the way her body turned towards him even when she fought against it. It would be hard to convince her mind to submit to him, but not her body.

He hadn’t needed her to cut his hair—he could have quite easily visited a barber the following day—but he’d wanted to see if he could get her to do it. He’d been in a playful mood and it had amused him—until she’d been right there, touching him, invading his space and warming his skin with her nervous heat. Then he’d realised it had been an excuse to get closer to her. He’d wanted to know whether she smelled as good as she looked and he hadn’t been disappointed.

The fact that she’d risen to his challenge despite her initial reticence intrigued him. She hadn’t been able to resist it.

He recognised an urge on his part to break through her carefully constructed wall of cool just for the satisfaction of melting her. He craved it. Just as he’d craved coming back here, to the one place that felt vaguely like home. It wouldn’t be long until he’d had his fill of sitting still, but at the moment it was necessary—imperative, even.

That was why he couldn’t pick up and stay at a hotel for the few days he had left before his next project started. He’d been aware of an unusual yearning for this place for the past few weeks, as if it had called to him. Something akin to nostalgia, or what he thought that might feel like; he’d never experienced it before. Usually he actively moved away from the past.

Wandering back up to the house, he parked himself on a lounger on the terrace and leant back, willing his overworked muscles to relax. He needed this peace and calm and nothingness for a few days before he rejoined the hurricane of his life.

The bathroom window above him slammed shut, jarring him out of his relaxing state and setting his teeth on edge. She must be about to take a shower. The thought of hot water sluicing over that curvaceous body and those heavy, rounded breasts was enough to give him an erection.

The trouble was, the last thing he needed right now was another woman problem. It had been soul-destroying breaking up with Katherine and persuading her he wasn’t the right guy to make her happy, then spending months avoiding her angry, pleading phone calls and sudden appearances out of the blue. She didn’t understand that the lifestyle he’d chosen wasn’t conducive to settling in one place and playing house. It had been an exhausting time. He was afraid that even a short, sharp affair now could leach the remaining life out of him, and he needed his mojo intact if he was going to keep the momentum of his projects going.

But it didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun playing with Josie. He’d be out of here in a few days, so what harm could it do to spend a bit of time figuring her out? There had to be more to her story than she was letting on. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman who could fritter away two weeks in the middle of nowhere. She had a nervous sort of energy about her that gave the impression she had more important things to be doing than just sitting and relaxing.

He wanted to know why.

* * *

She’d been well and truly had and it didn’t feel good.

Josie squeezed shampoo hard into her hand and thumped the bottle down onto the shower shelf in her anger. How could she have allowed him to talk her into embarrassing herself like that? She was clearly off her game because she was tired and stressed about the business. There was no way he would have tricked her like that ordinarily. In retrospect, she wished she’d given him a bald spot and an extra short fringe, just so she’d have something to mollify her.

What was she going to do now? He clearly wasn’t going to budge easily. She’d have to make as much of a nuisance of herself as possible and hope he’d get fed up and decide he’d be better off somewhere else.

She could phone Abi and explain the situation, of course, but she didn’t want it to look as though she couldn’t fight her own battles. And her business partner had enough on her plate as it was.

Shutting off the shower, she stepped carefully out of the tray and towelled herself dry.

The pile of dirty clothes on the floor gave her an idea.

After dressing in a light floral sundress, and drying off her hair so it swung around her shoulders, she gathered up her dirty laundry and dumped it on the bed, ready to take downstairs. Her laptop was sitting on the windowsill, where she’d left it in the hope that the sun would help dry it out, and she went over and tapped the power button again, praying that it would suddenly spring to life.

No dice.

A sharp pain throbbed in her skull and she massaged the sides of her forehead to try and relieve the pressure.

‘Join me for a drink on the terrace?’

She jumped at the sound of Connor’s deep voice, twisting round to see him slouched against the doorjamb of the bedroom. He filled the doorway with his immense physique.

‘I got the impression you wanted me to keep out of your way,’ she answered, nonchalantly flicking her hair over her shoulder. She wasn’t going to show him how nervy she was around him. All she had right now was her self-control, and she was damned if she was going to let that slip away from her too.

‘I changed my mind. I could do with some company and you could do with some sun.’ His gaze rested on her pale shoulders. ‘Do you spend any time outside?’

Truthfully, she didn’t tend to spend much time outdoors. She’d been too busy with work and had often ended up working at weekends to keep up with her heavy workload. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d just sat in the sunshine.

‘The sun’s very damaging to your skin, you know. You’ll be old before your time.’ She pointed towards his tanned forearms in a vain attempt to shut him up.

He smiled. ‘Full of vitamin D, though. Good for your happiness levels.’

Before she had time to reply, he pushed himself away from the doorway and disappeared.

After a few moments of arguing with herself about the wisdom of spending more time in his vicinity she grabbed her dirty clothes and a pen and notebook and went down to the kitchen. She shoved her clothes in the washing machine, set it going, then sauntered outside to find Connor reclining on a lounger, his shirt discarded on the floor next to him.

Great.

Josie stared. She couldn’t help it. His body was...well...divine. That skin—the glorious tanned sleekness of it. The way it undulated over the muscles of his stomach and stretched over the peaks of his collarbones. The broadness of his shoulders made her think of a superhero with their almost obscene size. She’d never seen such a magnificent body in the flesh.

Cue whole body flush.

Tearing her eyes away, she sat on the lounger next to him, barely managing to control her limbs.

He turned to look at her, a crooked smile playing about his lips as if he sensed her discomfort. ‘Help yourself to a drink.’ He gestured towards a jug of iced fruit juice and a couple of tumblers on a small table between them.

She eyed it suspiciously. ‘I’m not thirsty, thanks.’ She didn’t entirely trust him. There was something odd about him suddenly wanting her company, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why it felt so dangerous to be out here with him. She didn’t for a second think he would hurt her, but it was unnerving all the same.

Dropping her notebook casually onto the table between them, she shuffled about on the lounger to try and get comfy. When she glanced up at him, he seemed to be sizing her up.

She raised a questioning eyebrow at him, fighting the urge to look away from his evaluating stare.

‘You work a lot, right?’

She sat up straighter, warming up for what she was sure was about to be some sort of scrap. ‘My job keeps me pretty busy.’

‘Thought so. You have that computer crouch people get when they work at a desk too much. The only time you set your shoulders back and push that magnificent rack at me is when you’re facing me down over something.’

How was she supposed to respond to that little gem? By playing it cool.

‘I don’t suppose you come across many desks on your jaunts around the world.’

He broke eye contact to pick up the jug of iced juice and pour himself a shot into one of the glasses. ‘You’d be surprised what I come across,’ he said, in that low, seductive voice of his.

The hairs stood up on the back of her neck again and she snort-laughed in response, blood rushing straight to her face in embarrassment at the awful noise she’d made. Picking up the jug from where he’d set it down, she concentrated on pouring herself some juice to hide her humiliation. The ice clinked in her glass as she held it unsteadily in her hand, so she rested it on her knee instead.

Connor lay back, linking his fingers together behind his head, a smile playing about his lips. He knew exactly what he was doing to her and he clearly loved seeing her squirm. Bastard.

A minute went by before he spoke again. ‘What do you do that keeps you shackled to a desk?’

‘Shackled? Interesting choice of word.’ She didn’t dare look him in the face in case he saw how much she was floundering.

‘The imagery pleases me.’

He turned in the lounger to face her and her gaze was magnetically drawn to his toned torso. It was unnerving, being faced with a sight like that whilst trying to maintain a polite line of conversation.

‘You have a vivid imagination,’ she said.

‘It’s a prerequisite. I spend a lot of time alone.’

She really needed to get the conversation back on safe ground. ‘We provide software solutions for marketing and research departments.’

‘That must be fascinating.’

His tone was so dry she felt like dousing him with her ice-cold drink.

‘It took us three years to build the business to this point and we’re proud of what we’ve achieved.’

‘Good for you.’

He totally didn’t mean a word of it.

Ignore him, Josie, the guy’s a loser.

Grabbing her notebook and pen from where she’d dropped them on the table, she turned deliberately away from him and began to make some notes, forcing his presence out of her mind.

‘What are you writing?’

Apparently he didn’t like to be ignored. ‘I’m trying to reconstruct my tender document.’

He frowned. ‘I thought you were supposed to be on holiday?’

Josie shuffled uncomfortably on the lounger. ‘I am, but I’m making a head start for when I get back. I was doing pretty well until my laptop died.’ She gave him a pointed stare.

Connor let out a snort. ‘I can’t believe you brought a laptop on holiday. No wonder you’re so...’ He waved his hand in a loose flapping motion at her.

‘So what?’

‘I don’t know...edgy.’

‘I’m not edgy.’ She flicked her hair over her shoulder and scowled at him. ‘I’m diligent.’

‘Really? So you’re not heading off to the nearest computer repair shop later, so you can get right back to work before your head explodes.’ He mimed the explosion he was obviously picturing in his mind.

‘You’re funny. You know that? You’re a very funny man.’

‘I’m right, though, aren’t I? I bet you can’t stand to be without it for one day.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I can.’ She ignored the stutter in her heartbeat and leant back in the chair, gazing up at the slow-moving clouds above her. Her body was drenched in sweat. Had a heat wave descended?

Connor just grunt-laughed in response.

She chose to ignore him.

‘Can’t somebody else write your document?’

After pausing, she chose her answer carefully. ‘They’re working on it at the moment, but I’m the one who has the most experience in writing these things.’

‘So you don’t trust anyone else to do the job?’

Sighing, she put her fingers together, tip to tip, and waited for the irritation to subside. ‘If I don’t work on it now I’m going to have to do it when I get back—edit what the team’s done, that is—which will only allow minimal time to get it up to scratch before the deadline.’

‘And you’re sure they won’t be able to handle it without you?’

‘Based on experience—no.’

He nodded slowly, looking at her intently as if waiting for something more.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘Like what?’ He was all innocence.

‘You don’t believe me?’

He shrugged. ‘I’m not saying that. I was just wondering why you hired your staff if you don’t trust them to do their jobs properly.’

She really didn’t want to be talking about this. She was hyper-aware of the underlying panic, humming just below the surface, which she’d been struggling to suppress for weeks.

‘We can’t afford to get anything wrong right now. It’s a tough marketplace.’ She hoped the brusqueness of her tone would stop him asking any more about it.

‘So it’s all work and no play for you, right?’

His expression was neutral. She couldn’t tell whether he was teasing her.

Either way, Josie felt her blood begin to boil. How dare he? He didn’t even know her. He had no right to make judgements on her like that. She’d come across these disparaging attitudes to women in high-powered jobs so frequently that hers was a natural response by now.

She glared at him, her eyes narrowed. ‘Just because I work hard—and prefer not to loaf around the world on someone else’s dime,’ she added pointedly, ‘it doesn’t make me some hard-nosed bore. I happen to be very well respected....’ She petered out as the truth of her situation came flooding back to her.

He looked at her with his eyebrows raised. ‘I’ve heard all this before. The crazy working schedule. The inability to live outside of work. One holiday every three years...’

Josie squirmed at this.

‘...the ever-diminishing social life.’ He broke off to take a sip of his drink. ‘Is it really worth it?’

Was he serious? She still couldn’t tell. ‘Of course it’s worth it,’ she said as calmly as she could. ‘Anyway, it’s nothing like that.’ She flapped a hand at him, but the tension in her muscles made the action jerky and over-exaggerated.

Connor looked sceptical. ‘What makes it so worthwhile? Hmm? What are the benefits?’

Josie had no idea how to answer this. She had no desire to talk about what it was that drove her so hard. Not with him. Besides, she’d been doing it for so long it had become part of who she was, who she’d always been and who she always would be.

‘It’s about a sense of achievement. Making something great out of your life. Being respected and...and...’

She realised she was gesturing wildly at him again, like some kind of madwoman, but he’d got her blood up. She was angry at his insinuation that she was somehow making a mistake with her life choices. This was what she’d always wanted. What else could there be?

‘It makes me happy,’ she finished, picking up her drink and taking a long sip to cover her frustration.

‘All right. I was only asking.’ He held up his hands to her in mock surrender, a smile playing about his lips.

‘What makes you such an expert anyway?’ She straightened herself up on her lounger and felt her dress pull downwards, exposing more flesh than she was comfortable with. She adjusted the top hastily, then tugged the skirt back down from where it had ridden up.

Their eyes met and the air crackled between them.

‘Like I say, I’ve seen it all before.’

His voice was low and ragged and sent chills tripping along her spine. Her head spun as she drank in his penetrating gaze.

This time it was Connor who broke eye contact first. He lay back in the recliner and gazed up at the sky, closing the subject and the unnerving connection.

Josie twisted away, lips clamped tight. What had all that been about? Maybe it had just been a fun game for him, to tease and anger her. To see how far he could push her before she snapped. Her sense of frustration increased and she had to consciously release her hands from their rigor mortis clench.

This guy was something else. He knew instinctively how to push her buttons. Well, she wasn’t going to let him do it again, that was for sure.

Dumping her notebook and pen on the table, she forced herself to focus on relaxing into holiday mode to show him she was capable of doing it.

‘You know, you really should put some suntan lotion on. That pale skin of yours is going to fry in this heat. You townies have no idea how to live in the sun.’

He was looking back over at her again. There wasn’t a trace of the intensity that had been there a moment ago. Josie was almost relieved. At least she could deal with him when he was being overtly officious.

‘There’s some in the kitchen cupboard,’ he added, turning away from her.

Again, his suggestion felt more like an order, but she knew he was right.

‘I need to do something inside anyway,’ she said, rising from the lounger and sauntering inside, determined to get her own back.

In the bathroom she took out all the products she’d been storing neatly in her washbag and scattered them around the sink and the edge of the bath, giving her emergency box of tampons pride of place on top of the toilet. After brushing her teeth again, she made sure to leave a good covering of toothpaste scum in the sink. Satisfied with the results, she returned to the kitchen, pulling her now clean clothes out of the washer and draping them all around the room. Her knickers and bra she hung right over the handle of the oven.

That would do for now.

After grabbing the bottle of suntan lotion from the kitchen cupboard she went back outside and returned to the lounger. Taking her time, she smoothed lotion over the exposed parts of her body, then thumped the bottle down onto the table to show Connor he could leave her alone now.

He grinned at her and inclined his head. ‘Want me to do your back?’ he asked, a twinkle in his eye.

‘No, thanks.’ Just the thought of his touch disturbed her. It was too intimate an act to indulge in with him. There was no way she could handle that; she’d be a puddle on the floor. Plus, she wasn’t ready to forgive him for his comments about her career.

She was so sick of people doubting her choices. Her whole life seemed to have been spent proving herself, over and over again, until she felt dizzy with it. But no way was she going to waste her time trying to explain her work ethic to someone who was plainly more than happy to let others do the hard graft while he swanned off round the world having ‘experiences.’

She’d tell him that if he brought up the subject again. No more Miss Nice Girl. The guy had it coming.

She went to pick up her notepad again, then realised she was about to prove his point about not being able to stay away from working. She could do it. Of course she could. Her hands were only shaking because she was so irritated with him.

Right?

She wasn’t planning on sunbathing out here for long, anyway. She would stay long enough to show him he couldn’t intimidate her and then she’d go for a walk or something. Anything to be away from him for a while.

* * *

Connor was aware of Josie fidgeting beside him. He smiled to himself. She was obviously finding it impossible to lie still. Not that he could blame her; he’d gone at her pretty hard—but it was so much fun winding her up.

He’d been comfortably winning the conversation until she’d shifted in her chair, giving him a generous view of the magnificent curves hiding under that dress.

The sight of her long slim legs and the sweeping curve of her breasts had thrown him off balance. A vision of himself running his hands slowly along her shapely calves, up over her knees and between her soft thighs, had hit him like a belt in the face and he’d found himself losing his legendary cool. His hands were still shaking from the effort of keeping them by his sides.

She was clearly trouble—which he should back the hell away from. He had no patience with career women who valued their jobs above everything and everyone else. His mother had been one, and even though he’d resented her in so many ways somehow he’d found himself in relationships with women who turned out to be just like her. But he’d learnt his lesson. Enough was enough. Despite finding himself dangerously attracted to Josie, he wouldn’t allow anything to happen between them.

He watched as she stood up and stretched her arms above her head.

‘Right, I’m off for a walk. See you later.’

She slipped on her flip-flops, pulled on a sunhat and stalked away from the terrace, her sundress swishing around her endless legs. The woman was a bundle of nervous energy.

She could definitely do with having some fun.


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.




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