Snowbound Seduction (12 page)

Part of her was hugely gratified, the other part asked why—when he'd so carefully pointed out there was no chance for them whatsoever—he was saying such beautiful things. It didn't make her feel good—well, it did, but not
completely
, not in an I've-been-waiting-for-this-moment-all-of-my-life way. ‘Thank you,' she said flatly.

‘You could have said that as though you meant it.'

She looked at him, a straight look. ‘Zac, I've had no
experience in these kinds of situations,' she said baldly. ‘I guess I don't know how to play the game.'

One dark eyebrow rose. ‘To be perfectly truthful, this is a first for me. I promise you, I've never brought a woman away for the weekend, slept in the same bed and not made love.'

She didn't want to think about all the other women he'd had. Her tone severe, she said, ‘You know what I mean.'

‘You mean we should treat each other like a maiden aunt or a fusty old uncle?' He grinned at her. ‘I would find that very difficult, Rachel.'

She stared at him helplessly, annoyed with herself that she never won in their verbal sparring. He was so very much the man of the world, so confident and sure of himself that he made her feel seven instead of twenty-seven. And yet last night, when he'd told her about the baby son he'd loved and lost, he had been different. It may have been dark but she had been able to sense something of the hidden Zac, the man no one was allowed to see or get near. His wife had betrayed him and their marriage had been a sham from start to finish—what had that done to a proud young man just starting out in life?

Blinking, she broke the hold of the tawny gaze by reaching out for her coffee cup and swallowing the last mouthful of now tepid liquid. It was only then she said, ‘That wasn't what I meant and you know it. I just don't think it's particularly helpful for you to…' Her voice trailed away. She didn't know how to put it.

‘Say I want to be with you? But I do. Very much.'

He was being deliberately awkward. She met the dancing eyes and in spite of herself had to smile. He was impossible.

A gust of laughter from the walkers as one member of the party threw a piece of toast at another, only to have it promptly returned in like manner, brought Zac rising to his feet. ‘Shall we go?' he said, taking her arm with a coolly disapproving glance at the others. ‘The children are getting out of hand.'

Her lips turned up again. The oldest of the party was easily Zac's age, probably a few years older. ‘Are you sure you don't want to join in the snowball fight and have fun?' she teased as they left the room. ‘You'd make one young woman very happy.'

He paused at the foot of the stairs, drawing her loosely into the circle of his arms. ‘There's only one young woman I'd like to make happy this weekend,' he said softly, ‘but unfortunately, my considerable skill and talent in the area I like to think my speciality are not viable with her. However, I fully intend to have fun, as you put it, and who knows, maybe even a snowball fight for two. OK?'

Rachel nodded, part of her acknowledging he'd taken the news of her virginity extremely well in the circumstances. Some men would have just brushed the reasons she hadn't slept with anyone aside and continued with the seduction technique; others would have sulked or even turned violent. Few would have reacted like Zac and not even tried to persuade her to change her mind.

Of course, it might be that he didn't fancy her that much anyway.

Zac kissed the top of her nose and held onto her hand as they walked up the stairs to the first floor, and for the umpteenth time that morning Rachel found herself marvelling that she was here, in this inn, with easily the most handsome and downright sexy man she'd ever
seen, and that included the icons of the silver screen. And if he thought they were going to have fun this weekend, who was she to argue?

T
HEY
went for a long walk in the winter wonderland outside the pub's warm confines after breakfast. According to the weathermen there had been a record fall of snow the night before and the sky looked low and heavy with more, but when they left the inn it wasn't snowing. The wood and meadows directly behind the inn had become an enchanted world and, with no sound of traffic from the blocked roads thereabouts, the silence was magical.

The frozen white landscape, silver-grey sky and bitter cold had created an alien universe, one in which the normal laws of nature seemed suspended, but when they entered the wood some two hundred yards behind the inn the sound of a woodpecker's rapping broke the stillness. The snow wasn't so deep here: the wood consisted mostly of tall, stately fir trees and their branches had become like a canopy of white far above, protecting parts of the grounds to some extent.

They walked with Rachel's arm tucked in Zac's and their bodies close—like a real couple, as Rachel put it to herself. The air was icily pure and exhilarating, although when eventually they came out on the far side of the wood into a meadow, the walking was hard and she found herself hanging onto him.

They'd talked of inconsequential things and Zac had made her laugh a lot, but twenty yards or so into the meadow he suddenly pulled her into his arms, kissing her until she was breathless. ‘I've been wanting to do that all morning,' he whispered against the flushed cold skin of her cheek. ‘You're addictive, do you know that?'

He kissed her again or perhaps Rachel kissed him, she wasn't sure. She just knew she needed the feel of him, the warmth of his lips and the hunger of his mouth. For a split second she wondered how she was going to feel when he went away back to Canada, but then she brushed the thought aside. She'd deal with that when she had to; for now, he was here.

They swayed together, his hands cupping her face for deeper penetration of her mouth, and she gave herself up to the thrill of it—the white, cold day, the pearly-grey sky and the sharp air part of the dizzily new sensations tumbling through her. Murmuring her name, Zac slid his hands into her thick coat and under the sweater she was wearing, running his fingers over the silky skin underneath her bra before moving up to the rounded swell of her breasts in their brief lacy cups.

She gasped, a shiver snaking through her at the touch of his hands, and immediately he adjusted her clothing and buttoned her coat, his voice rueful as he murmured, ‘You're cold and no wonder. I'm sorry, Rachel, it's not the day for that kind of outdoor pursuit, is it?'

She wanted to tell him the weather had nothing at all to do with the way she was feeling, but he was kissing her again, his mouth nipping and caressing her lips in a way that took all lucid thought out of her head.

How long they stood together in the silver-white world she didn't know, but when it began to snow again
it was some moments before his mouth left hers, his breathing heavy and erratic. ‘You taste like honey,' he breathed against her face, and as her eyes opened to look into his, she saw the gold of his eyes was smoky dark. ‘Honey laced with some kind of drug that makes me want more and more.' He released her slowly, tucking her arm through his again as he added, ‘We'd better get back. According to our friendly weatherman, this is going to continue all day once it starts.'

‘We haven't had our snowball fight,' she said inanely, to hide how bereft she felt now his lips had left hers.

‘Later.' He smiled, his cool control in place once more. ‘For now I think it's home and a hot toddy.'

Home. It was only an expression but the word pierced like a spear, suggesting an intimate cosiness that would never be.

Zac must have noticed something because as they began walking his tone was quizzical. ‘What's the matter?'

‘Nothing.' How could she tell him that her feelings for him had done a U-turn that both amazed and confused her? A few days ago she had been convinced she wanted nothing to do with this man and she hadn't been timid about letting him know either; now she didn't know which end of her was up. The trouble was, every minute she spent in his company, every little thing she learnt about him increased the need to be with him. And this was a no-win situation. Aware his gaze was on her, she added lightly, ‘I'm torn, I guess. It's lovely to make the most of this before it turns all slushy and horrible, but at the same time a hot toddy sounds nice.'

He tucked her arm more securely in his. ‘I guess the novelty of this white stuff is lost on me these days.
Canada has rather a lot in the winter.' He grinned wryly.

‘I suppose so.' She glanced up at him. ‘Tell me about your life, Zac. Your home, your work, your friends.' She wanted to be able to picture it when he had gone, even though it probably wasn't a good idea. ‘Do you live by yourself or with your parents?'

‘Hell, not my parents. Oh, don't get me wrong, they're great, but working as I do in the family firm I need my own space. After…' He hesitated for an infinitesimal moment but Rachel noticed it ‘…Moira died, I sold the apartment we'd been living in and rented a place for a couple of years. That was my wild time.' This pause was longer. ‘And then one day I woke up in a strange bed with no recollection of the night before and realised I had to stop before I killed myself or someone else.'

The tawny eyes flashed over her face, probing, but she showed no reaction, although she was filled with pity for the lost young man he'd been then.

‘So I stopped. I made my peace with my family and repented in sackcloth and ashes to my poor mother who'd been convinced she'd have to identify me on a mortuary slab one day. Then I put myself through university by taking a number of part-time jobs.'

‘Your parents couldn't have supported you financially?'

‘Sure.' The hard, handsome face was expressionless. ‘But I needed to do it myself. When I'd got my degree, I came into the family firm and began to get some shop-floor experience—however good an academic background, you can't beat hands-on training. I bought a place a little out of town with a garden that runs down to the river, somewhere where I can fish weekends and hang out without seeing another soul if I don't want to.'

She stared at him. She'd imagined something different—a glitzy bachelor pad perhaps or an umpteen-bedroomed house where he could entertain.

‘What?' He'd caught the look on her face.

‘Nothing.'

‘Tell me.'

She shrugged uncomfortably. She knew by now he wasn't like Giles. Giles had pretended tenderness and consideration and honesty and it had all be counterfeit, but she supposed she'd continued to liken Zac to Giles inasmuch as she'd expected him to enjoy being the centre of attention at parties and entertaining and such like. He was so handsome, so charismatic she'd imagined he'd fly with the smart set and have something of a…superficial life. But she couldn't very well say that. Her mind racing, she said lamely, ‘I didn't expect you to be something of a recluse, I guess.'

He didn't laugh. Instead, he considered her words for a moment or two as they walked. Then he nodded. ‘I suppose you could say I'm reclusive to some extent, at least when I feel the need to be. That being said, I'm not adverse to company on certain occasions.'

His tone had been lazy but she knew he was telling her his lifestyle certainly didn't encompass celibacy. Not that she'd thought it did. Nevertheless, she was surprised how much it hurt. Stupid, Rachel, she told herself grimly. Really stupid.

‘And, of course, with my father getting older I tend to run the firm pretty much these days, and that includes travelling when the need arises, like this trip to England.' He smiled at her. ‘Not that any of my other trips have yielded such an unexpected bonus as this one.'

She forced a smile in return. ‘And your friends?' she persisted. ‘You do have friends, I take it?'

‘Yes, Rachel, I have friends,' he said gravely. ‘Some married, some single and one or two in the process of getting divorces. Pretty average, wouldn't you say?'

Perhaps, but Zac Lawson was far from average and that was part of the trouble.

He continued to talk about his life in Canada as they walked back to the inn, the snow falling with picture-postcard prettiness and not at all with the ferocity of the day before. But he didn't mention girlfriends, past or present.

Not that she wanted him to, not really, Rachel told herself as she listened to his low, melodic, faint Canadian drawl, but at the same time she did. Which didn't make sense. Along with everything to do with this weekend.

They had no sooner passed the group of rather obese-looking snowmen in the pub's grounds and entered the warmly welcoming interior of the inn than they were pounced on by the blonde walker. ‘Enjoy your walk?' she asked chirpily, and without giving them a chance to reply added, ‘I'm Angel, by the way. My name's Angela but no one calls me that. Come and meet the rest of the gang.' She turned and indicated the rest of the party, who were gathered round the log fire and who smiled and opened up to include them, making it rude to refuse. ‘We've got a couple of jugs of hot chocolate. Help yourself.'

They were a friendly lot. At the end of an hour Rachel had heard a couple of life stories, knew that the walking club had been going for three years—and growing all the time, the organiser, an intense young man with white-blond hair and acne assured her—and that every month they chose a different location to gather together for a whole weekend of walking.

‘Lucky it was here this weekend,' Angel breathed meaningfully, her eyes eating up Zac before including the others as she said, ‘This being such a great inn and all.'

Surprisingly, Rachel felt the edges of her mouth turn up. The girl was shameless and so overt in her intentions it was like watching a caricature of the original vamp.

Zac caught her eye and she knew he was thinking along the same lines because his eyes were bright with suppressed laughter. He stood up, holding out his hand to Rachel. ‘Shall we freshen up before lunch?'

She escaped the group gratefully, and once they were alone in the hall giggled as she said, ‘Do we take it Angel's one of the fallen kind?'

‘Without a doubt.' He returned her smile lazily and it was there, in the hall of the inn with the sound of laughter and voices from the room they'd just left filtering through and the landlady sounding as though she was shouting at someone in the kitchen, that she realised this love wasn't the sort you were able to get over. It was the once-in-a-lifetime sort.

Fortunately Zac took her hand and they began to climb the stairs at that point because she was sure her face would have given her away if he'd continued to smile at her. As it was, she had managed to pull herself together by the time they'd scaled the second flight of steep, narrow stairs and Zac had followed her into their room.

Their boots and trousers had inevitably got caked with snow on the walk, and as Zac sat down on the edge of the bed and took off his boots, before unconcernedly unbuckling the belt of his jeans, Rachel sat down on her side with her back to him. She wasn't going to be able to do this, not spend another night in the same bed.
Pathetic it might be, and it wasn't even that she didn't trust Zac to show restraint. It was herself she feared. At the moment, he knew she was sexually attracted to him but that was all, and she'd die a thousand deaths if she betrayed how she really felt.

She heard him take off his jeans and then the sound of his suitcase opening and shutting. Half a minute later his voice came, wryly amused. ‘You can look now.'

She had taken off her own boots but was still in her damp trousers. As he came to stand in front of her dressed in dry clothes, she schooled her face into a faintly quizzical expression. ‘I don't know what you mean.'

‘Sure you don't.' He grinned. ‘Like me to help you off with those wet things?' he offered helpfully.

‘I can manage perfectly well, thank you.'

‘Considering we slept together last night, you're remarkably reticent this morning.' He quirked an eyebrow, still grinning.

‘We slept in the same bed, that's all.'

His eyes widened innocently. ‘Isn't that what I just said?'

This time she maintained a dignified silence and gave him a long look. Zac returned the stare, teasing her.

With a hauteur that wasn't altogether feigned, Rachel rummaged through her own clothes and found fresh jeans. Willing her cheeks not to burn, and failing miserably, she whipped off the damp jeans and pulled on the dry ones without looking at Zac. When she did raise her head he had turned to stare exaggeratedly in the opposite direction. In spite of herself she had to smile. ‘You can look now. I'm quite decent.'

‘Sure? I'm a sensitive soul with fragile sensibilities.'

‘Quite sure.'

‘Be it on your own head.' He turned and then gasped, pointing accusingly at her bare feet. ‘Naked flesh. Cover yourself, woman, have you no sense of decorum?'

‘Very funny, Zac.' She tried to frown but it was difficult.

‘I have seen women partially dressed before without being overcome by my base male desires,' he said mildly. ‘Even ones in bikinis, believe it or not. Some…' He paused dramatically, mocking her. ‘Without any clothes at all. I'm well past the teenage years when raging hormones can take over and cause you to do something you later regret. You're quite safe, Rachel.'

So he'd regret sleeping with her, would he? Or was he referring to getting the girl pregnant who'd become his wife? ‘I know I'm safe,' she said regally. ‘And I don't know why we're having this ridiculous conversation.'

‘It could have something to do with the fact that you make me feel like some lecherous old man.'

Startled, her eyes met his and although his voice had been coolly amused she could see no laughter in the piercing gold gaze, just the opposite. Weakly, she said, ‘You're not old.'