Surrender To Seduction

‘An hour,’ Cara said knowledgeably. She glanced at the tiny bundle sleeping in Bryn’s arms. ‘Do you think she’ll be all right until then?’

Gerry nodded. ‘She should be. She’s certainly not hungry now, or she wouldn’t have stopped crying. I’ll make a much-needed cup of coffee.’ Her stomach lurched as she met the measuring scrutiny of Bryn Falconer’s green eyes. ‘Can I get you one, or some breakfast?’ Cara didn’t drink coffee, and vowed that breakfast made her feel ill.

The corners of his long, imperious mouth lifted slightly. ‘No, thank you.’ He transferred his glance to Cara’s face and smiled. ‘Don’t you have to get ready for work?’

‘Yes, but I can’t leave you holding the baby!’ Giggling, she flirted her lashes at him.

Disgusted, Gerry realised that she felt left out. Stiffly she reached for the coffee and began the pleasant routine of making it.

From behind her Bryn said, ‘I don’t run the risk of losing my job if I’m late.’

Cara cooed, ‘It must be wonderful to be the boss.’

Trying very hard to make her voice steady, Gerry said, ‘Cara, you can’t be late for your go-see.’

‘I know, I know.’ Reluctance tinged her voice.

Gerry’s mouth tightened. Cara really had it bad; last night she’d been over the moon at her luck. Now, as though a chance to audition for an international firm meant nothing to her, she said, ‘I’d better change, I suppose.’

Gerry reached for a cup and saucer. Without looking at him, she said, ‘You don’t have to stay, Mr Falconer. I’ll look after the baby until the police come.’

‘I’m in no hurry,’ he replied easily. ‘Cara, if you’re ready in twenty minutes I’ll give you a lift into Queen Street.’

‘Oh—that’d be wonderful!’

Swinging around, Gerry said grittily, ‘This is a really important interview, Cara.’

‘I know, I know.’ Chastened, Cara sprang to her feet. ‘I’ll wear exactly what we decided on.’

She walked around Bryn’s long legs and set out for the door, stopping just inside it when he asked Gerry, ‘Don’t you have to work too?’

Cara said, ‘Oh, Gerry’s on holiday, lucky thing. Although,’ she added fairly, ‘it’s her first holiday since she started up the agency three years ago.’

‘You’re very young, surely, to be running a model agency?’

Although neither Bryn’s words nor his tone gave anything away, Gerry suspected he considered her job lightweight and frivolous. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she gave him her smile again and said, ‘How kind of you. What do you do, Mr Falconer?’

Cara hovered, her lovely face bemused as she looked from one to the other.

‘Call me Bryn,’ he invited, hooded eyes gleaming behind those heavy lashes.

‘Thank you, Bryn,’ Gerry said politely, and didn’t reciprocate. His smile widened into a swift shark’s grin that flicked her on the raw. In her most indolent voice Gerry persisted, ‘And what do you do?’

The grin faded as rapidly as it had arrived. ‘I’m an importer,’ he said.

Cara interrupted, ‘I’ll see you soon, Bryn.’

Bryn Falconer’s gaze didn’t follow her out of the room. Instead he looked down at the sleeping baby in his arms, and then up again, catching Gerry’s frown as she picked up the package of sterilising preparation.

‘Gerry doesn’t suit you,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Is it your real name?’

Gerry’s brows shot up. ‘Actually, no,’ she drawled, emphasising each syllable a little too much. ‘It’s Geraldine, which doesn’t suit me either.’

His smile had none of the sexy warmth that made it so alarmingly attractive. Instead there was a hint of ruthlessness in it as his gaze travelled with studied deliberation over her face. ‘Oh, I don’t know about that. “The fair Geraldine”,’ he quoted, astonishing her. ‘I think it suits you very well. You’re extremely beautiful.’ His glance lingered on the flakes of colour across her high cheekbones. Softly he said, ‘You have a charming response to compliments.’

‘I’m not used to getting them first thing in the morning,’ she said, angry at the struggle it took her to achieve her usual poised tone.

His lashes drooped. ‘But those compliments are the sweetest,’ he said smoothly.

Oh, he knew how to make a woman blush—and he’d made the sexual implication with no more than a rasp in the deep voice that sent a shivering thrill down her spine, heat and cold intermingled. Into her wayward mind flashed an image of him naked, the big limbs slack with satisfied desire, the hard, uncompromising mouth blurred by kisses.

No doubt he’d woken up like that this morning, but it had been Cara’s kisses on his mouth, Cara’s sleek young body in his arms.

Repressing a sudden, worrying flare of raw jealousy, Gerry parried, ‘Well, thank you. I do make excellent breakfasts, but although I’m always pleased to receive compliments on my cooking—’ her voice lingered a moment on the word before she resumed, ‘—I don’t know that I consider them the sweetest. Most women prefer to be complimented on more important qualities.’ Before he had a chance to answer she switched the subject. ‘You know, the baby’s sleeping so soundly—I’m sure she wouldn’t wake if I took her.’

It was the coward’s way out and he had to know it, but he said calmly, ‘Of course. Here you are.’

Gerry realised immediately that she had made a mistake. Whereas they’d transferred the baby from her arms to his in one swift movement, now it had to be done with slow care to avoid waking her.

Bryn’s faint scent—purely male, with a slight, distasteful flavouring of Cara’s favourite tuberose—reached right into a hidden, vulnerable place inside Gerry. She discovered that the arms that held the baby were sheer muscle, and that the faint shadow of his beard beneath his skin affected her in ways she refused even to consider.

And she discovered that the accidental brush of his hand against her breasts sent a primitive, charged thrill storming through her with flagrant, shattering force.

‘Poor little scrap!’ she said in a voice too even to be natural, when the child was once more in her arms. Turning away, she fought for some composure. ‘I wonder why her mother abandoned her. The usual reason, I suppose.’

‘Is there a usual reason?’ His voice was level and condemnatory. ‘How would you know? The mothers in these cases aren’t discovered very often.’

‘I’ve always assumed it’s because they come from homes where being an unmarried mother is considered wicked, and they’re terrified of being found out.’

‘Or perhaps because the child is a nuisance,’ he said.

Gerry gave him a startled look. Hard green eyes met hers, limpid, emotionless. Looking down, she thought, He’s far too old for Cara! before her usual common sense reasserted itself.

‘This is a newborn baby,’ she said crisply. ‘Her mother won’t be thinking too clearly, and could quite possibly be badly affected mentally by the birth. Even so, she left her where she was certain to be noticed and wrapped her warmly. She didn’t intend her to die.’

‘Really?’ He waited a moment—making sure, she wondered with irritation, that she knew how to hold the baby?—before stepping back.

Cuddling the child, Gerry sat down on the opposite sofa, saying with brazen nerve, ‘You seem very accustomed to children. Do you have any of your own?’

‘No,’ he said, his smile a thin line edged with mockery. ‘Like you, I have friends with families, and I can claim a couple of godchildren too.’

Although he hadn’t answered her unspoken question, he knew what she’d been asking. If she wanted to find out she was going to have to demand straight out, Are you married?

And she couldn’t do that; Cara’s love life was her own business. However, Gerry wondered whether it might be a good idea to drop a few comments to her about the messiness of relationships with married men.

Apart from anything else, it made for bad publicity, just the sort Cara couldn’t afford at the beginning of her career.

She was glad when the sudden movement of the baby in her arms gave her an excuse to look away. ‘All right, little love,’ she soothed, rocking the child until she settled back into deep sleep.