An Innocent Affair (3 page)

To think he'd thought her untainted by the life she'd led. To think he'd been enchanted by her open warmth and transparent sincerity! The throbbing in his temples reached new heights. In a different frame of mind Alex would undoubtedly have paused to reflect on the contradictory nature of Hope's responses. But Alex didn't pause; he reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders. He glimpsed shock and dismay in her wide blue eyes before he kissed her.

The pressure of his mouth bent her body back until her head touched the springy moss-covered ground. His hands moved from her shoulders to frame her face, effectively immobilising it. Not that Hope had any thoughts of fighting; she had no thoughts at all. The only information that filtered into her brain concerned simple things, like smell, texture and taste. The smell of the leather gauntlet on his right hand, the wool of his sweater and the citrusy spice of the masculine fragrance he used. The texture of his firm mouth, the sensation as his tongue thrust into the recesses of her mouth and the taste of him… Now she knew. Now she'd never be able to forget it.

It stopped just as suddenly as it had begun. The weak sunlight that his head had blotted out filtered through the
transparent thinness of her closed eyelids. She listened to the echo of her own heartbeat.

‘Say something,' he said thickly. ‘At least look at me.' If he hadn't been able to see her chest rising and falling he wouldn't have known she was alive. Her hair was spread around her face, a rich golden frame. The permanent indentation between his eyes deepened as he stared down at her.

A smile tugged the corners of her mouth. ‘How can I refuse an offer like that? Or was it an order? Don't look so surprised, Alex. What did you expect? Hysteria? I've been kissed before…' Not like that,
never
like that. Her nervous system had shut down, unable to accept the messages being fed it. ‘Admittedly with more finesse…' To her surprise he perceptibly flinched. He flexed his massive shoulders and his glance slid momentarily from her face.

She was no weakling, but Alex hadn't needed to use more than a fraction of the strength in that awesome upper body to immobilise her. And all the time she'd been aware of the staggering strength he held in check. She hadn't just been aware of it—she'd been deeply excited by it. Alien emotions churned in her belly.

‘We're quits,' he observed flatly.

‘Given the choice, I'd have taken a slapped face.' A dull red spread over the hard contours of his cheekbones and she felt a surge of satisfaction. ‘Though I'm sure you're not the sort of man who'd strike a female.' Her voice was laced with sarcasm.

‘I'm sorry I lacked finesse,' he bit back.

Sprawling here, she felt rather vulnerable, but she didn't want to risk moving until she had full control over her limbs again. ‘It was a bit naive of me to expect subtlety from someone like you. I don't expect imagination is your strong point—' With a yelp of alarm she
closed her eyes. He moved with amazing fluidity for someone of his build.

When she risked opening one eye he was kneeling beside her. The muscles of her abdomen clenched in anticipation of sitting upright. They relaxed instantaneously as he ran the tip of one callused forefinger experimentally down the side of her cheek. Each microscopic downy hair on her smooth skin danced in response. A sound escaped her lips as the air fled from her lungs in one gasp.

‘I never did know when to stop,' she croaked. ‘I'm sure you're as subtle as hell.'

‘For an elderly male with limited reserves of stamina?' he suggested silkily.

‘Can't you take a joke?' He was removing the thick padded gauntlet from his hand. A girl who got turned on by looking at a man's hands was in serious trouble, she reflected wildly.

‘Creativity takes many shapes and forms.' He lowered himself on one elbow and brushed the tangled curls from her brow. ‘I may be colour-blind…'

‘How fascinating,' she replied in a high-pitched voice. ‘Colour-blind.' He'd tugged the zip of her waterproof jacket far enough down to give his mouth access to the base of her throat. ‘This is silly.'

Her words emerged as a breathy gasp rather than a sharp reprimand. She dug her fingers into his rich pelt of hair in order to jerk his head away, but the warm lash of his tongue against the pulse-spot made her fingers curl against his scalp in a manner more intended to hold him against her than repel him.

The open-mouthed assaults on her neck tore a series of soft, guttural moans from Hope's throat. Alex lowered his body as he moved higher, until by the time he was
at eye level with her they lay thigh to thigh, chest to chest on the sloping ground.

‘It must be difficult for someone used to delicate refinement to be exposed to such crude clumsiness.' The rasp of his voice was close to her ear. His lips grazed the same orifice and sent electrical tremors down to the tip of her curling toes.

Her blue eyes were swimming as she met his hard gaze; her stare was hazy and unfocused. This was torture; each soft, arousing salute was agony. How could so little make her crave so much? He hadn't even touched her body, but she was pierced by a desire so intense she could hardly breathe.

Handicapped by inarticulate frustration and raw need, her first move in response wasn't loaded with finesse. She raised her head a little, dug her fingers hard into his scalp and pressed her lips, chastely closed, to his mouth.

She was breathing fast and hard when she lifted her mouth from his. Grey eyes clashed with blue.

‘I want…' Emotion clogged her throat.

‘A bit of rough?' The suggestion was as hard as the calculating expression in his eyes.

For a second she couldn't believe what she'd heard. Being plunged into ice was remarkably sobering. She bit down on her lower lip to stop the hurt cry escaping the confines of her throat. She drew her knees protectively up to her chest and rolled over onto her side. Though her knees were shaking, she managed to get to her feet gracefully.

If she'd looked back he'd have been able to see the tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks, so she didn't look back.

 

‘She's invited
who?
'

Beth Lacey didn't appear to notice her daughter's hor
rified expression.

‘Alex Matheson, dear, to make up the numbers. Mind you, he and Adam get on quite well, I believe. They play tennis together, you know.'

‘I didn't know,' Hope replied faintly.

‘I did mention to Anna that you and he got on really well at the wedding. Shall I do a lemon tart, or be really naughty and risk the chocolate meringue?' She waited expectantly and gave an impatient sigh when her daughter regarded her blankly. ‘I told you, we're bringing the pudding. Anna's got enough on her hands without entertaining, but you know Anna, once she's made up her mind. At least she's limiting it to family—and Alex, of course.'

And Alex!

Hope nodded. She knew Anna. She knew Anna well enough to know she couldn't ask her to retract the invitation to Alex without having the whole humiliating tale exposed. Hope wasn't ready for that; she was still feeling far too raw about the whole painful incident. There was only one thing for it.

‘Sorry, Mum, I've got to go out,' she said, levering her tall frame from the saggy armchair.

‘Where to?'

Hand on the doorhandle, Hope smiled vaguely. ‘I won't be long. I'll borrow your car.'

It took her less time than it ought to reach Matheson Motors on the edge of the small market town. She parked her mother's old banger amongst less rusty cars and walked confidently up to the entrance. No one watching her long-legged elegant stride could have guessed how close to open panic she was. Only her sisters knew that she only whistled when she was petrified, and they weren't here.

The girl in Reception looked up and visibly did a dou
ble take. ‘Miss Lacey,' she gasped, her eyes widening. ‘Can I help you?' she added hopefully, regaining some of her professional poise.

‘I'd like to see Alex.' A famous face did have some compensations, especially when you wanted to bluff your way into somewhere you had no right to be.

‘Mr Matheson…' Doubt crossed the other girl's face. ‘Do you have an appointment?'

‘It's a surprise.'

‘Well, I don't think… He's quite strict about…'

‘Actually,' Hope said, leaning forward in a confidential manner, ‘I'm meant to be having dinner with him tonight, but I'm going to have to cry off. So I thought I'd take him for an early lunch to compensate.'

‘For his birthday? I see. Oh, well, in that case…'

Alex's PA turned out to be male, quite a young, attractive male, who wasn't totally immune to her charms. She'd have liked to think it was her famous smile and winning manner that had allowed her to enter the inner sanctum which he so jealously guarded, but it was obvious she'd only got this far because Alex had given his permission.

Panic closed in as the door shut behind her. Pride made it imperative that she didn't show her uncertainty.

She needn't have worried; for all the interest Alex showed in her she might as well have been standing there stark naked. She couldn't have felt more vulnerable if she had been!

He continued to peel off a set of navy overalls, underneath which he wore a pristine white shirt and silk tie. He lifted the dark grey jacket missing from his ensemble from the back of his chair and slipped it on. The shadow of body hair was visible through the thin fabric of his shirt, as was the suggestion of musculature. Hope's
throat grew painfully dry as she tried not to notice these facts.

‘You've got a hands-on management style, I see,' she said, her eyes flicking to the discarded utilitarian overalls.

‘I'm a hands-on sort of guy.'

The innuendo made the colour flare in her cheeks. ‘I expect you know why I'm here.'

‘I'm not nearly so perceptive as you appear to think.'

‘The dinner party.' She didn't want to play games with him. She wasn't capable of playing games with him. Just being in the same room as him was making her aware of how deeply he'd managed to unnerve her.

‘Ah, the dinner party.' He lowered himself into the deeply padded leather swivel chair behind the massive desk which dominated the room. No, she mentally corrected herself, it was Alex who dominated the room—this room and any other room he was in.

‘Don't go.'

‘Pardon? I'm forgetting my manners—won't you have a seat?'

‘You can't forget what you've never had,' she snapped back. ‘And I'm not staying long enough to sit down. Don't think I enjoy being in your company.'

‘If that is so, why are you here?' he enquired imperturbably. He watched her with a narrow-eyed silver stare that made her shiver.

‘I just wanted to ask you to be reasonable. I'm sure you don't want to spend an evening in my company any more than I want to spend an evening in yours.'

‘If you didn't want to see me, why come here?'

‘I've already told you—'

‘Ever heard of the telephone?' he interrupted cryptically.

Hope's mouth opened and closed several times before her voice returned. ‘I didn't think of that.'

‘Of course you didn't…' he drawled.

The hateful
knowing
look in his eyes made her want to scream. ‘If you think I used this as a pretext to see you,' she returned scornfully, ‘you couldn't be more wrong!'

‘Now there's an interesting idea,' he mused, resting his chin on his steepled fingers.

She couldn't look at his hands without imagining… Hope took a deep, steadying breath. I will not lose my temper, she repeated slowly to herself. I won't! ‘Are you going to come?' She sounded calm and reasonable.

‘I could hardly refuse after they've asked me to be godfather to little Joe.'

‘They haven't.' She closed her eyes and pushed back the wing of hair that flopped in her eyes. ‘They've asked me to be his godmother.'

‘Isn't that nice?' His teeth were as white and even as your average wolf's.

‘You're enjoying this!' she accused.

For the first time he looked less than indolent as his body stiffened in the chair. ‘Far from it,' he snapped. ‘But I'm not going to offend friends just because they have the misfortune to be related to a shallow little trollop like you! Sorry,' he corrected, looking her up and down slowly, ‘cancel the “little”…'

‘I'm wasting my time here.' She turned on her heel and strode from the office. ‘How do I get out of here?' she asked the surprised-looking PA.

‘First left and take the lift. If you're in a hurry…?'

‘I am.'

‘You could go through the factory floor, turn right and down the stairs.'

Hope was blind to the eyes that followed her across
the factory floor. Matheson cars were strictly low-tech, at least as far as their construction went, so there was no robot technology—just a dedicated, highly trained workforce. She didn't even register the warning cry as the ground disappeared beneath her.

At moments like this a girl with any sense would faint, she thought. Hope waited for the blackness to enfold her and block out the excruciating pain, but it didn't. Someone flicked a switch and the inspection pit was illuminated by brilliant light. Hope showed extreme restraint and moaned softly in reply to several anxious enquiries.

‘Get the boss.'

Get an ambulance, she wanted to scream. Instead she fainted, for the first time in her life.

‘D
ON'T
touch her,' She heard an authoritative voice grate.

To Hope, this sounded like excellent advice. The pain seemed to be everywhere, but the moment she tried to move it had been obvious the worst damage had been done to her left leg.

‘We thought we ought to give her the kiss of life.'

‘Or put her in the recovery position,' another voice added.

‘For God's sake, man, she's breathing. She's just fainted, and from the angle of that leg it's just as well.' The brusque reply was much closer this time. ‘Where's that ambulance?'

‘I don't faint.' She felt impelled to protest this point.

‘She's awake; she said something.'

‘What is it, Hope?' The touch on her forehead was firm but gentle, and she could smell Alex's distinctive cologne mingled with the warm, musky scent of his body.

‘I didn't faint.' She forced her eyes open and found his face very close.

‘That's too bad. I expect it's hurting like hell.'

‘My leg?'

‘It looks broken,' he told her matter-of-factly. ‘Where else does it hurt?'

‘Everywhere.' Weak tears started to seep from her eyes and she felt ashamed. ‘I'm meant to be modelling swimwear in the Maldives next month.' A spurt of hysterical laughter followed this admission.

‘The ambulance won't be long. Just hold on.' She sensed rather than saw him move away. Agitation made her move restlessly. ‘Don't try to move, Hope.'

‘Promise you won't go away,' she whispered fiercely. Her eyes were glittering feverishly as she caught his hand in a surprisingly strong grip.

A flicker of something close to shock crossed Alex's face. He froze, and his eyes dwelt momentarily on her tightly clenched fingers before moving to her face. ‘I promise.' Hope gave a sigh and relaxed.

When the paramedics arrived she was forced to relinquish her hold on Alex's arm. The loss of contact made her come close to losing her tenuous control.

‘She needs something for the pain,' she heard him say harshly.

‘Don't worry, sir. We won't move her until that's sorted.'

Too right you won't, mate, Hope thought, trying to bring the bewildering scene into focus. This being brave business was not all it was cracked up to be. She made sudden contact with a pair of familiar grey eyes. Something in the calmness of his gaze must have transmitted itself to her, because it was suddenly a lot easier to follow the paramedic's instructions to grip the mask and breathe in the gas and air mixture. This almost instantaneously took the edge off the pain. It didn't disappear, but it was easier to cope with.

Someone stuck an injection in her thigh before her leg was cocooned in a splint and she was strapped to a stretcher.

‘Are you coming with us, sir?'

Hope pulled the mask off her face. ‘You don't have to.' Alex bent his head closer to catch her words and she repeated herself.

‘I'll come.' Hope closed her eyes and gave a small,
satisfied smile. Why she should feel safer knowing he was within grabbing distance was a mystery she would unravel at a later date.

‘How are you feeling?' Alex raised his voice against the noise of the siren. Dear God, man, he thought with savage impatience, why not simply talk about the weather? That would be almost as inane! He functioned well in a crisis, but once command of the situation had been taken out of his hands he felt frustratingly impotent.

‘Drunk,' came back the surprising reply.

Alex looked questioningly to the paramedic. ‘It's the drugs and the gas and air. It affects some people that way.'

‘Do you know something?'

‘What, Hope?'

‘You've got the most beautiful hands I've ever seen,' she confided in a slurred tone.

‘That's very kind of you to say so.'

‘I wanted to say so. Something else I wanted to tell you, Alex—' she began.

Alex turned and the paramedic swiftly smothered the smirk on his face. ‘I think we might discuss this later on, Hope.'

‘I've forgotten what it was anyway.'

 

‘Well, aren't you a lucky girl?'

Was she meant to reply to that one? Hope wondered. Wearing a white coat seemed to endow its owner with an endless supply of platitudes.

‘We'll whip you up to Theatre shortly, and realign that tibia, and you'll be as good as new in next to no time. The ribs will be sore for a while, but they're only cracked. You're really very…'

‘If you tell me one more time how lucky I am, Adam,
so help me I'll realign your nose,' she said wearily, but with sincerity.

Her brother-in-law cast a dampening glare at his tittering minions. ‘Someone who throws herself into pits and doesn't break her neck has to expect clichés, Hope.'

Her grin was a shadow of its former self. ‘Has anyone told Mum and Dad yet?' she asked fretfully.

‘Alex insisted on doing that personally. He thought it would give them less anxiety than a phone call.'

‘I see.' So that was where he'd gone. Since she'd been placed in the care of her brother-in-law she hadn't seen him. She did have an embarrassing recollection of clinging tenaciously to his hand, but details were rather hazy. ‘What's that she's got?' she asked suspiciously as a nurse materialised at the bedside.

‘A pre-med, Hope, to calm you down.'

‘I am calm. Any more calm and I'd—'

‘Why don't you shut up, Hope, and let us do our job? If you'd prefer another doctor you're entitled…'

‘We've been through all that, Adam, and I'm quite happy with you so long as your precious ethics don't get in the way of treating a family member.'

‘Oh, my ethics can take the strain. It's the nursing staff I'm worried about.'

Hope was still grumbling quietly to herself when she drifted once more into a drug-induced slumber.

 

Three days later she was packing up her belongings—or at least giving instructions whilst her mother did so for her.

‘Lovely flowers, dear,' her mother observed, fondly regarding the large bouquet of yellow roses arranged in a tall vase.

‘Send them to the children's ward,' Hope put in quickly.

‘Quite sure?'

Hope smiled grimly. Her mother wasn't going to find a card no matter how hard she looked, because she had removed it—ripped it up and thrown it away with the other rubbish. There had been just one word on the card;
Alex,
written in a bold, strong hand.

She'd woken up the previous afternoon to find him standing there beside her bed, holding the roses. It must have been raining outside because his hair had been wetly slicked back, curling slightly over the collar of his leather jacket. A film of moisture had covered the faintly tanned olive-toned skin of his face, enhancing the air of healthy vitality he exuded.

Her eyes had skimmed over the sharp planes of his face, touched the firm lines of his sexy mouth before coming to rest on his eyes—eyes that followed the slanting line of his dark eyebrows, eyes that were silver-flecked grey and, most significantly, eyes that sent an electrical surge spiralling through her body. She'd felt stunned; she hadn't dreamed this feeling, it had really happened. She'd felt restless, weak and excited all at the same time.

‘Thank you. They look beautiful,' she'd said shyly.

Shyness wasn't an emotion Hope was accustomed to and it made her feel awkward. His keen eyes were missing no details of her ravaged face. ‘It looks worse than it is.' She spoke self-consciously.

Though, spectacular and painful, the bruising which covered most of the left side of her body would leave no lasting damage. She wasn't vain, but she wanted him to see her at her best, which in all modesty she knew was a pretty good best. Instead she looked like something out of a horror film. Sod's law! she thought fatalistically.

‘I wouldn't have thought it was in your best interests to admit that.'

Confusion settled on her face. Her brain still felt a bit like cotton wool. Had she missed a complete segment of conversation here? What did he mean? Or was he implying she ought to enjoy being a patient? If that was so she could swiftly disillusion him on that score!

‘Don't worry.' He forestalled her reply. ‘I didn't come here to discuss that.'

‘Discuss—?'

He silenced her with an imperative hand. ‘I understand your position completely.'

I wish
I
did! Hope's confusion deepened; this grave comment didn't have the ring of sympathetic empathy to it.

‘I wanted to see for myself how you are. There are
no
ulterior motives, Hope. I hope you understand that.'

Hope managed to keep her expression neutral, but it took a phenomenal effort. The minute she'd opened her eyes and seen him standing there she'd known—and it seemed he did too. The hazy dream-like recollections of the time immediately following the accident probably told only part of the story. God knows what I did, she thought, humiliation washing over her. God knows what I said.

‘I didn't want there to be any misunderstandings.'

Hope cleared her throat, which still felt a little raw after the anaesthetic. ‘I appreciate that,' she said. His clinical regard sharpened, grew less impersonal as he absorbed the husky catch in her voice. Hope didn't flinch from his regard and he was the first to look away. She was glad. I've done nothing to be ashamed of, she decided rebelliously. Falling in love was no crime, even when the recipient of those feelings was as reluctant as Alex obviously was.

Privately she thought there was a big difference between blunt and brutal. What does he think? she wondered. That I'm going to fling myself at him and declare my undying passion? It hurt to know he wasn't prepared to risk it.

He hadn't even said goodbye… The sound of her mother's voice pulled her out of her gloomy reverie.

‘I'll take them along to the nurses' station, shall I?' Beth Lacey repeated, with an expression of regret.

 

Hope wasn't left alone long before her brother-in-law put his head around the door; the rest of his lean body swiftly followed suit.

‘All set, then?'

‘Thankfully, yes.'

‘You're a terrible patient.'

‘Says you,' she replied disrespectfully.

‘Seen Alex lately?'

Hope stiffened at this seemingly casual question. ‘Why should I have seen Alex?'

Adam flicked her a curious but not unkind look. ‘You were screaming at the top of your lungs for him when you came out of the anaesthetic.'

‘There are a lot of Alexes in the world.' Is there no escape from the man? I can't even be unconscious in peace!

‘Thousands.'

‘If you mention this to anyone I'll…' People did things that were totally out of character when under the influence—bizarre things. Things that had no significance. Her mental protestations offered little comfort.

‘Don't worry, it's covered by patient confidentiality.' Adam gave his stethoscope a casual twirl.

‘By anyone I especially mean Anna.'

Adam grinned, but didn't respond to this challenge.
‘Duty calls,' he said, moving purposefully towards the door. ‘Good man, Alex Matheson. I like him.'

If I wasn't stuck in this damned thing, she thought, banging the sides of her wheelchair, I wouldn't let him get away with that. Damn that man, she fumed, and it wasn't Adam she was referring to.

 

‘We'll postpone the trip.'

Hope wheeled around awkwardly on the crutches. ‘Don't you dare!' Her parents had been planning their world cruise for over a year now, and they'd been talking about it for as long as she could remember. She couldn't bear being the cause of them missing their dream holiday. ‘I'm quite capable of coping.'

‘I'd only worry about you, dear. If Anna didn't have her hands full with the babies you could go there…'

‘I don't need anyone to look after me. I've only got a plaster on my leg, Mum.' It was frustrating to know she was fighting a losing battle. Once her mother made up her mind there was no unmaking it. She silently cursed overdeveloped maternal instincts.

‘There's the door,' Beth said, levering herself up from her armchair at the sound of a strident peal on the doorbell. It occurred to Hope, not for the first time in the past two weeks, that for once her mother was looking her age—she needed this holiday; she worked far too hard.

‘I'll get it,' Hope responded, gritting her teeth in a determined fashion as she did a neat three-point turn to get through the doorway. She balanced on one leg to open the front door before clutching once more at her crutches. ‘It's you.' She immediately flushed under the ironic stare she received in return. Of all the
stupid
things to say!

‘You're looking well.' The purple bruises that had
decorated one side of her face, and other areas not on public display, had faded to pale yellow patches in the two weeks since the accident. His eyes narrowed slightly as he examined the visible evidence of her fall.

His deep voice did the most insane things to her metabolism. ‘I'm fine, just fine. Won't you come in?' She'd forgotten just how intimidating his physical presence could be. Her eyes ran furtively over the strong, muscular lines of his shoulders and she cleared her throat noisily. ‘Please come in. Nice weather, lovely day…' She managed to stop the irritating flow of banalities.

‘If it's not inconvenient.' The only reaction he made to the parrot-like style of her conversation was a slight inclination of one darkly defined eyebrow.

Nice weather, lovely day—inwardly she groaned as she felt the rivulets of sweat trickle down her spine. It had only stopped snowing half an hour ago, and the driving conditions were appalling. What's wrong with me? Pull yourself together, girl!