When Harriet Came Home (15 page)

She drew in a deep breath, but that made matters worse as her breasts swelled up against the wall of his chest. She felt so good against him that his bones started to melt. He loved her, and all he could think about was kissing her. But if he started kissing her, he didn’t know if he could stop, and that would only confirm her opinion of him. He didn’t want that. He wasn’t interested in a brief fling with Harriet; he wanted so much more than that. More than maybe she was prepared to give.

As he was still tussling with his lust, he felt her wriggle against him. What the…? Blow him down if she wasn’t snuggling up against his chest. Through the thin layers of material her luscious curves lured him, and as their heat began to mingle, he felt her nipples springing to attention, and his brain turned to slush.

His feet faltered as he brought her to an abrupt halt. “Harriet,” he muttered thickly, “that’s not the wisest thing to do.”

She seemed confused, as if she didn’t have control of her body either. “Can you let go of me. Please?”

He tried to release her, but their bodies remained entwined. Her hands, he realised, were clutching on to him for dear life, her legs rubbing up against his, her chest glued to his.

He smiled. “I’m trying to, but you don’t seem all that keen to let go of me.”

Hope pounded in his veins. The way she was holding him, Harriet must want him bad. “Not that I’m complaining,” he added. “I like the feel of you plastered all over me.”

Even in the darkness he saw her blush. “Oh, damn.” She pulled away. “We should leave.” She sounded upset. She turned away from him and hurried toward the car.

“Harriet, wait!” He wasn’t quick enough. She jumped into the passenger seat and closed the door.

He followed her, easing himself into the driver’s seat. Her arms were crossed over her chest, hands gripping her elbows, as though she needed to defend herself. Against what—him?

“I thought we were having a nice dance together.” He tried to sound reasonable, calm.

“It was getting out of hand…” She trailed off, tugging at her seat belt too hard so it wouldn’t release.

Out of hand? She had no idea.

She blew out a sigh. “Look, I know what it means when a guy brings a girl here to the Lookout, but believe me it’s not going to happen. Not with me. Not tonight.”

His facial muscles tightened up. “That’s not why I wanted to come here.”

She didn’t seem to hear him. “I’m not some quick and easy lay for you just because you know I’m going back to Sydney tomorrow.”

Did she think he was just some randy slimeball? He started up the engine. “Hell, there’s nothing easy about you, that’s for sure.”

“You shouldn’t have brought me here.”

He revved the engine, and the car bounced over the rutted track. His head ached from his rigidly locked jaw. “Don’t worry. I won’t make that mistake again.”

His heart was still strumming, his body still tingling from their close encounter. Their slow dance had been filled with dreamlike magic and sensuality. For him, at any rate. For her, it had apparently felt like a cheap grope.

The CD player clicked over to the next song—“Baby I’m a Fool.” With a vicious jab he flicked off the music.

She grabbed her handbag and clasped it to her chest. “I don’t want you to think I was leading you on or anything…”

“Of course not,” he said, his voice sounding harsh to his ears. “I don’t think anything of the sort.”

She hunched her shoulders and stared out her window. A chill crept over him. If he didn’t do something, she would slip through his fingers like autumn mist and disappear. He couldn’t let that happen.

He leaned forward and peered at the road ahead. He knew what he had to do.

Adam swung the car through the gates of Blackstone Hall.

“Where are we going?” Harriet asked.

The headlights cut through the darkness, reflecting dazzling orbs on the windows of the mansion as they drove past it. “I thought we’d stop by my place for a while,” Adam said.

Harriet jack-knifed in her seat. “I’d rather not.”

“Why not? It’s not that late.”

Her throat grew dry. “I have a long drive tomorrow. I need a good night’s sleep.”

He pulled up the car outside his cottage and cut the engine. “So you’re determined to go back to Sydney tomorrow?”

Not just determined—desperate. “Like I said, first thing tomorrow morning. So I’d like to return to my parents’ place, if you don’t mind.”

He stared at her for a long moment then sighed. “Actually, I do mind.” He angled his head toward her. “I was hoping you’d stay a bit longer this time, but since you’re hell-bent on running back to the big smoke, I want to ask you something.”

She put a hand to her throat. Why did she feel so breathless? “What?”

“I want you to use your imagination. Imagine that I’ve talked you into staying a few days in Wilmot, and that I’ve also persuaded you to have dinner with me over in Scone.”

“Why would I have dinner with you?”

“It’s my way of saying thank-you for all your hard work on the Harvest Ball. We’ve had a great meal at the restaurant, danced at the Lookout, and now we’ve come back to my place.”

Her fingers cramped on the seat belt. Her chest heaved with indignation as she rounded on him. “Boy, you’re persistent. Didn’t you hear what I said back at the Lookout? Or didn’t you think I was serious? You think just because I had a secret crush on you ten years ago that I’m going to fall into bed with you at the snap of your fingers? Sorry, but I don’t enjoy pity sex.”

He backed off and held up his hands, palms facing. “Hey, where did that come from? Did I mention anything about sex?”

“What else do you mean by coming back to your place?” She glared at him as she struggled to master her breathing.

“I meant we could have some coffee. And that’s not just another euphemism for sex,” he quickly added. “I really do mean coffee and a chance to talk.”

He looked so perturbed and genuine that the backs of her eyes stung. She blinked hard several times. “About what?”

He rubbed his jaw awhile, as if he needed time to gather his thoughts.

“Harriet,” he said, “I’m not the same person I was ten years ago. And in a way I have you to thank. If my father hadn’t been caught, my life would have been very different. I’d have a job in finance and a swanky apartment in Sydney. I’d come up to Wilmot on weekends to oversee the farms and stay in that mansion up there. I’d be rich, self-satisfied and shallow, and I wouldn’t even realise what a wanker I was.

“But you changed all that. Because of you, all my preconceived ideas about myself and about my family were stripped away. I practically had to rebuild myself, but I’m not complaining because I came out a better man. All thanks to you. And now, since you came back to Wilmot, you’ve given me the final pieces of the puzzle. Instead of brooding about the past, I can remember my father and appreciate him for what he really was.”

His eyes glimmered at her. He drew in a deep breath and stuck his hand out. “I want this to be the start of a new beginning for us. Will you grant me that at least?”

What was he asking of her? She studied his outstretched hand warily as if it concealed a trap.

“You want us to be friends?” she asked.

He remained silent for a few moments, his expression unreadable. “Of course. Friends.” His tone was neutral.

Friends. How could she be friends with Adam and not betray her true feelings? But then again, it wouldn’t mean much, since she would be in Sydney and he would be here. What harm could it do? On the odd occasion when she visited her parents and she couldn’t avoid running into him, they would have a quick five-minute conversation and that would be all.

“Sure.” She shook his hand briefly. “Friends.”

He smiled at her. “Coffee?”

She followed him into the cottage, still tingling from the touch of his hand. She would have a quick cup of coffee with him, and then she would insist he drive her home. She didn’t want to return to her parents’ place in the small hours of the morning and have them jumping to conclusions.

The interior of Adam’s cottage was still warm from the lingering heat of his wood heater. He tossed in another log and opened the damper, and soon the fire was blazing.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he called out as he began to make the coffee.

Harriet hovered next to the couch. She couldn’t look at it without being reminded of the last time she’d sat on it. Not sat, but
lain
on it. With Adam on top of her, their mouths glued to each other. The back of her neck grew hot with the memories. She shot a glance at Adam standing at the stove, and the gleam in his eye told her that he hadn’t forgotten what had happened on the couch either. Hastily she averted her eyes.

She perched on the edge of an armchair near the wood heater and pretended to study the fire. Within a few seconds she was roasting hot. She stood and pulled off her sweater. A sharp clatter of a spoon dropping made her turn round. Adam was gripping the edge of the kitchen bench, his face flustered as he stared at her.

He cleared his throat. “Do you take milk or sugar with your coffee?”

“Milk, no sugar.”

He brought over the two mugs of coffee and sank down on the couch diagonally opposite her. For a while the crackling of the fire was the only sound in the room. She faked an interest in the picture hanging on the wall, ignoring his gaze which she knew was fixed on her like a spotlight. When she could pretend no longer, she met his eyes.

He tilted his head toward her. “How did you get that scar on your arm?”

Surprised, she lifted her left arm. The black, figure-hugging singlet she wore revealed her bare upper arms and the faintly discoloured line a few inches long just below her shoulder.

“This thing? Don’t you remember? I fell off my dad’s dirt bike.”

His face altered. “I didn’t realise the cut was that bad. You didn’t complain much at the time.”

Because at first she’d been too dazzled by his presence to feel the searing pain, and then too anxious about blubbering in front of him. “I was distracted.”

Adam leaned across and touched her scar, and instantly she trembled. “Did I hurt you?” he quickly asked.

“No.” Her voice was unsteady, betraying her emotions. Did he know how sensitive she was to his touch? How the lightest stroke got her pulses revving?

He kneeled down in front of her and replaced his fingers with his lips.

“What are you doing?” she gasped, liquid lightning streaking through her at the sight and feel of his mouth caressing her scar.

“I wanted to find out what it felt like.” His voice thickened as he lifted his head. He was very close now, and she could see the tiny jet-black flecks in his grey eyes, the subtle creases at the corners of his eyes.

Still on his knees, he cupped her face and brought her even closer to him. “I’m fascinated about every little thing about you. I want to learn everything about you, find out all your hidden secrets.”

She couldn’t allow Adam to discover her biggest secret—that she cared about him more than ever before. She knew she should yank herself free and run out of that cottage, but the feel of his hands cradling her face was so mesmerising and the smell of his skin so tantalising she couldn’t budge an inch.

From deep inside she managed to find her voice. “Adam, I—”

“Don’t say a word,” he shushed her as the pads of his thumbs drew circles on her cheeks.

He drew her closer, and when their lips met a sigh escaped her. A sigh of relief at all her pent-up anticipation. A sigh of delight as his mouth moved slowly and deliciously over hers. She had missed him so much. Her heart felt close to bursting as she recognised her pain, her longing, her wanting. With a muffled moan she pulled him nearer, and his hands slid from her face and wrapped around her waist.

His tongue teased the line of her lips, and when she opened her mouth, he deepened the kiss, flooding her with his heat and passion. He trailed his mouth over her cheeks, her jaw, her neck, stringing soft, exquisite bites along her skin until she was drowning in her own desire. She was so lost in his kisses she didn’t know up from down, and only when a log in the wood heater broke with a shower of sparks did a little sanity penetrate her foggy brain.

Adam’s hands had slipped beneath her black singlet and were roaming across her back and abdomen, trailing fire across her heated skin. When his fingers reached the catch of her bra, she stopped breathing, her resolve teetering on a knife-edge.

“Adam?”

His fingers stilled as he lifted his head. For what seemed like an eternity he stared at her hot face, before he let out a deep gust and slowly withdrew his hands.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he laid his finger across her lips.

“Shh. Don’t say anything.” He smoothed down the rumpled edges of her singlet.

Why was he shushing her again? “Why can’t I—”

“Talk?” He tucked her hair behind her ears. “Because I can see you just want to argue with me.”

“That’s not true. I don’t want to argue—”

“And if you argue with me, I’ll just be goaded into kissing you again.”

Her cheeks flushed. “That’s just plain silly—”

“And I can’t trust myself if I keep on kissing you.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and fixed her with a steady gaze. “I’m determined to keep tonight PG-rated.”

She shook off his hands and jumped to her feet. “I…Adam…I…” She didn’t know what to say.

He rose to his feet. “I can’t seem to get it right with you, Harriet. Why is that?”

The dismay in his eyes puzzled her. She shook her head. “What do you mean?”

“I wanted tonight to be about starting over again. I thought we could just chat and get comfortable with each other.” He ran his fingers through his hair, making it even messier. “But I can’t help kissing you, it seems, and as soon as the kissing starts, I can see all the doubts and questions popping into your brain, spoiling all the pleasure of the kiss.”

She backed away from him. She needed all her strength to keep herself together; she couldn’t afford to break down now. “You shouldn’t have brought me here.”

“You don’t leave me much choice when you’re leaving in the morning.”