Passion & Pleasure: Savage Awakening / For Pleasure...Or Marriage? / Taken for His Pleasure

Matt was taken aback. He wasn’t used to people speaking their minds so openly. Since his return, the opposite had been true. Even his mother verbally tiptoed about him, as if she wasn’t entirely sure what he might do if she said the wrong thing. But Fliss Taylor…

‘I—I need some help around the house,’ he agreed neutrally.

‘And when Diane told you I used to work for Colonel Phillips, you thought snap! She can work for me, too.’

Matt abandoned the rest of the shopping and propped his hip against one of the mahogany units. ‘It wasn’t quite like that.’

‘But that is why you approached me in the car park,’ she persisted, and he gave a concessionary shrug.

‘All right. I admit, I thought about it.’

Her brows drew together. ‘But now you’ve changed your mind?’

‘No! Yes!’ Matt heard the kettle boiling and turned gratefully to make the tea. He sighed. ‘You make it sound as if I could have no other reason for speaking to you. We’re not exactly strangers, for pity’s sake. I mean, I made no complaint about your daughter dumping her rabbit on my doorstep, did I?’

‘Gee, thanks.’

Her sardonic response was hardly unexpected and he turned to face her again with weary compliance. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘That was uncalled-for. You both thought the house was empty. I know that. But, just for the record, when I first came out of the showroom and saw you across the car park, the idea of asking you to work for me was far from my mind.’

And that was true, he conceded, half amused by the admission. But with the sun adding gold lights to the coppery beauty of her hair, she’d been instantly recognisable. And, although the prospect of offering her a job had given him a reason to speak to her, he might have done so anyway.

Or not.

Her sudden decision to leave the doorway and cross the room towards him disrupted his thought processes. For a crazy moment, he wondered if something in his face had given her the impression that he was attracted to her and he moved almost automatically out of her way.

He realised his mistake when she cast him a pitying glance and reached instead for the two mugs he’d filled with hot water. With casual expertise, she spooned the two used tea bags into the waste bin and then said drily, ‘I don’t like strong tea. Do you?’

Matt felt furious with himself as he shook his head. For heaven’s sake, he was doing everything he could to reinforce the opinion she probably already had of him. Cursing under his breath, he opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk. He set it down on the counter beside her rather more heavily than was wise and predictably some spilled onto the marble surface. He swore again. ‘Sorry.’

Fliss added milk to both cups. Then, cradling hers between her palms, she said softly, ‘Did I do something wrong?’

Matt felt a wave of weariness envelop him again. ‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘It’s not you. It’s me. Like I said before, I’m not finding it easy to—to interact with people.’

Fliss frowned. ‘Is that why you’ve moved out of London?’ she asked, and then coloured. ‘Oh, sorry. It’s nothing to do with me.’

‘No.’ He conceded the point. ‘But it’s the truth.’ He picked up his own cup and swallowed a mouthful of tea. ‘I needed some space. London offers very little of that.’

She absorbed this, her eyes on the beige liquid in her cup, and, against his will, he noticed how long her lashes were. For someone with red hair, they were unusually dark, too, but lighter at the tips, as if bleached by the sun.

His jaw tightened. As if it mattered to him. She could be a raving beauty, with a figure to die for, and he wouldn’t be interested. He wondered what she’d say if he told her that.

‘I suppose Diane’s parents said this house was for sale,’ she ventured now, and Matt accepted that she deserved some explanation.

‘No,’ he assured her. ‘As you might have guessed, Diane isn’t in favour of me moving out of London. I found the house on a property website. It sounded exactly what I was looking for so I bought it.’

‘Sight unseen?’ She was obviously surprised.

‘Well, I had Joe Francis, an architect friend of mine, look at it,’ he said, a little defensively. ‘And I did speak to the Chesneys. They seemed to think it was OK.’

‘And what do you think, now that you’ve moved in?’

‘I like it.’ He smiled in spite of himself. ‘I’ll like it better, of course, when it feels less like a mausoleum and more like a home.’

Fliss glanced about her. ‘Colonel Phillips didn’t think it was a mausoleum.’

‘No, well, he probably kept the place furnished.’ He paused, wondering how much he should tell her. ‘That’s what I was doing in Westerbury. Buying some furniture that won’t look out of place in these rooms.’

‘From Harry Gilchrist,’ she said, and Matt quirked an eyebrow.

‘You know him?’

‘He lives in the village,’ she said regretfully. ‘I suppose he recognised you.’

Matt finished his tea and set his empty mug down on the counter. ‘Did he ever,’ he said, pulling a wry face. ‘Oh, well, I guess a week is better than nothing.’

‘You might be surprised.’ Fliss finished her own tea and, to his surprise, moved to the sink to wash up the cups. ‘Most of the villagers tend to mind their own business.’

‘Do they?’

Matt spoke almost absently, his eyes unwillingly drawn to the vulnerable curve of her nape. She’d tugged her hair to one side and secured it with a tortoiseshell clip, and the slender start of her spine was exposed.

He wasn’t thinking, or he would have looked away, but instead his eyes moved down over the crossed braces of her dungarees. A narrow waist dipped in above the provocative swell of her bottom, the loose trousers only hinting at the lushness of her hips and thighs. Her legs were longer then he’d imagined, her ankles trim below the cuffs of her trousers.

‘What do you mean?’

Her words arrested whatever insane visions he had been having, and he shook his head as if that would clear his brain. For God’s sake, what was he doing? And what was she talking about? He was damned if he could remember.

‘I beg your pardon?’

His apology was automatic, but her expression as she turned towards him fairly simmered with resentment. ‘You said, Do they?’ she reminded him tightly. ‘What did you mean?’

Matt didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. For a moment there, he’d been entertaining himself with the thought that he was just the same as any other man. Of course, he wasn’t, but she didn’t know that. And she probably thought he was leering at her like any other member of his sex.

‘You know,’ she said flatly, as he struggled to answer her, ‘when you said Diane hadn’t told you a lot about me, you were lying, weren’t you? Have the decency to admit it.’

‘You’re wrong.’ Matt blew out a breath. ‘Whatever I said, it had nothing to do with anything Diane had said about you. But, OK, she didn’t tell me that you were still at school when you got pregnant. However, that has nothing to do with me.’

‘Damn right.’

There was a catch in her voice now, and Matt silently cursed Diane for getting him into this. ‘Right,’ he said, folding his arms across his chest. ‘So, shall we put that behind us and start again?’

‘Whatever.’ She finished drying the cups and moved towards the door. ‘I’d better be going. Amy will be home from school now and she’s quite a handful for my father.’

‘I’ll bet.’ He kept his mind firmly on what she was saying and not on the curling strands of red-gold hair that had escaped the clip and were bobbing beside her cheek. He chewed at the inside of his cheek for a moment, relishing the pain as a distraction. ‘You—er—you wouldn’t still consider working for me, I suppose?’

She halted, but she kept her back to him as she spoke. ‘Doing what, exactly?’

Matt knew an almost overwhelming urge to touch her then. She suddenly seemed so vulnerable, so alone. Which was ridiculous really, considering she had a father and a daughter who probably thought the world of her. Yet he sensed that he’d hurt her and he didn’t know how to repair the damage.