Blueprint for Love (Choc Lit) (11 page)

          Jonathan wasn’t mollified.
‘Well, clearly it’s not, so you can go now. And don’t let me catch you here again.’

          He let go of her so abruptly she had to grab onto the triffid for support. The leaves rustled ominously, and she drew back with a shriek.
‘T-that thing,’ she stammered. ‘What is it?’

         
‘Why? Did you think it was going to eat you?’

         
‘Well, I ... ’ she tailed off, feeling the colour rise in her cheeks.

          Jonathan glared at her for a moment, then he threw his head back and laughed.
‘You’re priceless! You’ll quite happily walk in the middle of the road in the driving rain, or climb inside a hothouse full of flesh-eating plants without any thought. Whatever next?’

         
‘
Are
they flesh-eating?’ Instinctively, Hazel leaned into him for protection.

         
‘No, I’m just winding you up.’

          Sulkily she pulled away, wincing as she put the weight down on her left foot. She must have hurt it when she stumbled, but that didn’t give him the right to laugh at her.
‘I’m glad someone finds this funny.’

         
‘Actually, I don’t.’ Jonathan turned serious again. ‘I still think you owe me an explanation for what you’re doing here.’

         
‘Snooping.’ She sent him a mutinous look.

         
‘Yes, I got that part. What I don’t understand is when someone tells you a place is dangerous, and you’re supposed to stay away from it for your own safety, why do you do the opposite?’

         
‘I was curious, and that’s the truth.’

He stared into her eyes as if he was trying to make up his mind whether to believe her or not. What he saw must have convinced him, because in the end he nodded.

Relaxing, Hazel added, ‘Anyway, telling me not to do something is like a red rag to a bull.’

         
‘I'll have to remember that. But first you need to get out of here before my father finds you and has an apoplexy. Did you hurt yourself when you tripped? Can you walk?’

         
‘Yes, I think s– aww!’ A sharp pain shot up through her leg, and she bit her lip to stop herself from crying out further.

         
‘Did you twist your ankle?’

          Hazel winced as he bent down and put a cool hand on it.
‘I must’ve done. But don’t worry, I can hobble.’

         
‘Not on my watch. Here, hold this.’ He shoved his torch at her, then without further ado, lifted her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing and carried her out of the hothouse.

         
‘What are you doing? This is ridiculous! I’m not a child.’

         
‘No, you’re not.’ His voice sounded deeper somehow and Hazel shivered, but not with fear.

          The moon had come out, and when she lifted her face to his, the pithy remark died on her lips at the look in his eyes. Gone was the merriment which had first attracted her to him, nor did they hold that peculiar suspicion she’d experienced from him in the last week or so. In contrast, they were dark and intense, and his arms, although strong and firm, held her very gently as if he feared she would snap in half.

          Her breath caught in her throat. She knew she should distance herself from him – a relationship would never work – but it was as if her body couldn’t, or wouldn’t, cooperate.

          Sighing, she dropped her head on his shoulder as he carried her into the house.

Reality came back with a bang when she noticed that he turned right at the top of the grand staircase instead of left.

          ‘This isn’t the way to my apartment.’

         
‘I’m not taking you back there. I want to have a proper look at your ankle, and my first-aid kit happens to be in my private bathroom.’

         
‘Oh.’

          The magical moment had gone, and she allowed him to take her to his quarters, where he set her down on a battered, brown leather sofa in his living room. Pulling up a small footstool, he placed her injured foot on it, propped up by a cushion, and then disappeared down a hallway which led to the bathroom and, presumably, his and the boys’ bedrooms. While he was gone, Hazel drank in her surroundings.

          Jonathan’s place consisted of a large L-shaped living room, with windows facing towards the front as well as the east side of the park. The sofa stood in front of a grand fireplace, separated by a Persian rug. One corner of the room was taken up by a dining table and chairs, where the remnants of the boys’ tea was still in evidence, and a desk and book shelves occupied another. The desk was strewn with pens, papers, folders, several mugs and, incongruously, a fire station built out of Lego bricks.

          The whole place was just so like Jonathan that Hazel couldn’t help smiling.

          Jonathan returned carrying a first-aid box, a glass of water, and a packet of aspirin.

         
‘Here, this will help with the pain.’

          Hazel popped two tablets in her mouth, while Jonathan took off her trainer and sock, and rolled up her trouser leg. Her ankle was swollen to almost twice its size, and she winced as he gently turned her foot this way and that.

          ‘You’ve definitely twisted your ankle, quite badly by the looks of it, but I don’t think anything is broken. I wouldn’t be able to do this if you had.’ Grinning, he looked up, and Hazel’s heart did a little jig. ‘I’m going to put some arnica cream on it for the bruising, and then a dressing around it for support. Don’t put too much weight on it over the next few days.’

         
‘I can still work, can’t I?’ Hazel asked. ‘You know, answer the phone and stuff.’

         
‘At least take a couple of days to rest. There’s nothing urgent on your desk, is there?’

         
‘I don’t think so.’

         
‘Good, that settles it.’

         
‘But ... ’

         
‘No ‘buts’. A sprained ankle needs rest.’

          Leaning back on the sofa, Hazel tried to relax while Jonathan’s cool and efficient hands bandaged her foot, but his closeness and gentleness – combined with her own confusion – was making this very hard.

          In the end, to cover up her embarrassment, she said, ‘You’ve done this before, haven’t you?’

         
‘I’m a dad; I can deal with bumps and bruises, and the like.’ He paused in what he was doing and met her eyes. ‘What I find difficult about being a parent is knowing whether I’m giving my children enough emotionally. I often feel I’m coming up short there.’

         
‘They miss you when they go away to school.’

         
‘They said that?’

          Hazel nodded.

          ‘Maybe I need to look into local schools for them. That way we’d be together more, and they’d have friends in the area.’

         
‘Why did you choose boarding school, if you don’t mind me asking?’

         
‘It seemed like a good idea at the time.’ Jonathan finished bandaging Hazel’s foot and rested it back on the footstool. ‘I went to one myself and so did Dad. And Arabella, well, she had very specific ideas about what was expected of people from our social circle.’

          He rose and went to the stereo to put on some music. Mellow jazzy tones filled the room, but the bitterness, which had crept into his voice, still hung in the air. Hazel could see that he was struggling with something. Guilt, perhaps.

          ‘Tradition is a fine thing,’ she said quietly, ‘but you have to do what’s right for you and the boys.’

          He returned to the sofa and sat down beside her.
‘You’re right. From now on I shall listen only to my heart. Anyway, how did you get to be so wise?’

         
‘Me? I’m not wise.’

         
‘Yes, you are,’ he insisted. He slipped his arm over the back of the sofa, brushing her neck as he did so and sending shivers of longing down her back. He cupped her face with his other hand. ‘I’ve never met anyone like you, Hazel. You’re open and full of fun, but there’s a thoughtful side to you as well. It’s ... ’

          Jonathan’s face was suddenly very close to hers, and her lips parted in anticipation.

          ‘Yes?’ she whispered. She knew now why she hadn’t fallen for Lawrence’s charm. He could never make her heart beat faster, the way Jonathan did.

         
‘It’s beautiful.
You
are beautiful.’

          Their lips met. At first Jonathan’s mouth was gentle on hers, softly exploring, then he became more insistent. Slipping her arms around his neck, Hazel responded with the same enthusiasm. Her body moulded itself to his, and every fibre of her being called out to him with desire and tenderness.

          Could this really be it? Had she found the love she craved and never thought would happen; the family she’d longed for since she’d lost her parents?

          She didn’t dare hope for it. She had to be realistic. What was happening between them was probably nothing more than a bit of harmless flirting, but it was
... oh, so wonderful.

          Finally they came to their senses, and Hazel eased away.
‘We mustn’t, you know.’

          Jonathan brushed his hand across her cheek.
‘You’re right again. This is neither the time nor the place. But it’s very tempting,’ he added, with a mischievous wink.

         
‘Behave yourself.’

          Laughing, Jonathan hugged her. Hazel sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. It felt good, sitting there, simply embracing and thinking of nothing but him. She knew now that she was hopelessly in love with him, but she had no idea what he felt about her. She didn’t want her thoughts to go in that direction, but just enjoy the moment while it lasted.

          It didn’t take long for the bubble to burst.

         
‘Hazel?’ Jonathan asked. ‘What
were
you doing in my father’s lab?’

Jonathan cursed inwardly when Hazel pulled away with a puzzled frown.

         
‘I was curious. I already told you that.’

         
‘Yes, but you’ve got to admit that breaking and entering in the middle of the night doesn’t look too good, even if it was just curiosity. By the way, how did you get over the fence?’

         
‘You wrote the access code to the keypad on your blotter. Then I climbed in through a window.’

         
‘Did I? That wasn’t very clever of me.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘If you were so curious, why didn’t you just ask?’

         
‘I asked George about the green light which I’ve seen a few times from my bedroom window. He denied all knowledge about it, and when Lawrence suggested– ‘

         
‘Lawrence? The guy you were seen with in town?’

         
‘Yes, but how did you know?’ Hazel’s brown eyes widened.

          Jonathan looked at his hands, hoping that she didn’t notice his evasiveness.
‘Alison saw you.’

         
‘Lawrence is just a friend.’

         
‘An old friend?’ Jonathan’s stomach suddenly felt tight with jealousy.

          She laughed.
‘No. We met because I spilt coffee on him. Luckily, he forgave me and invited me out. End of story. Anyway, we were talking, and something Lawrence said made me worry about what was going on in the outbuilding. After the lights went out this evening, I decided to take another look.’

         
‘And what did you think was going on down there? Something illegal?’

          Hazel’s colour rose slightly.
‘I suppose so.’

         
‘You’re not an industrial spy then?’

         
‘An industrial spy? What on earth gave you that idea?’

          Jonathan grinned.
‘Can’t be too careful. Actually, I never thought you were, but my father ... well, he’s wary of people he doesn’t know.’

          Seeing the lack of artifice in her eyes and recalling their passionate kiss, was enough to convince Jonathan that Hazel was telling the truth. He felt relief wash over him that she wasn’t spying on his father, but even more so because she didn’t seem interested in this Lawrence character.

          ‘But why would George worry about spies?’ she insisted.
‘There’s nothing to see in his lab except plants and more plants.’

          Jonathan smiled.
‘The plants you saw are jatropha plants, a native species of Mexico and Central America, with a very high oil content; about 37%, I think. The oil can be used for fuel in a diesel engine without being refined, a so-called bio-friendly fuel. Sustainable energy. You’ve heard of that, right?’