How to Win a Guy in 10 Dates (7 page)

Millie tentatively followed him in. ‘Oh my, it’s like something from an interiors magazine! Someone thought of everything – rush matting on the floor, and even a tilting mirror! I never had a tent with one of those before.’ She breathed in the smell of oiled canvas, and fingered one chunky hewn supporting pole, as she took in two beautiful caned lounging chairs. ‘When you said camping, I never imagined anything like this.’

Running her eyes around, she caught a chest of drawers, with assorted bottles and glasses on top, next to a turned wooden clothes rail. Two camp beds, with crossed legs, one at each side of the tent, already made up, each with a filmy mosquito net suspended from the roof ridge. A neat pile of stripy quilts on a stool at the foot of each.

‘It’s a tent. Just not quite the pop-up variety.’

‘It’s amazing. So … ’ She swallowed back the word ‘romantic’, and this time he didn’t jump in to finish her sentence. ‘So evocative. It’s lovely.’

‘The beds are more comfortable than they look. They’re high to combat the drafts, because vintage tents don’t have a sewn-in ground sheet.’ He kicked off his shoes, wriggled his feet into flip flops that were already sitting under one of the beds. ‘I settled in earlier as you can see. Fancy a drink? I can recommend the rough red.’

Two camp beds? Rigorously single.

What the heck happened to the no-strings sex she’d come all this way for?

Her heart-rate slowed noticeably.

More to the point, what the hell had happened to Mr Sex-on-legs and his seduction techniques?

She swallowed an involuntary sigh. ‘Yep, red would be great.’

So this was what he meant before when he said she wouldn’t have any worries.

‘All okay for you?’ He scooped up glasses and a bottle, and headed for the flap.

‘Everything perfect. Thanks. Couldn’t be better.’ She heard her own voice, a tiny bit flattened.

So that would be disappointment then.

***

Watching him light the lanterns around the terrace a few minutes later, she settled back against the cushions on her lounger, forced herself to sip her wine, and resisted the immediate urge to throw it back and score herself an instant courage boost.

‘The light goes quickly here.’ He sat down, stretched out his recliner, and languidly crossed one foot over the other. ‘So here’s to a weekend without rain.’ He raised his glass and his eyebrows, sent her a lazy wink she didn’t fully understand, and took a drink.

‘The stars are already very bright.’ Millie scanned the sky innocently, as slowly, and deliberately, she crossed her own legs. ‘Like a Van Gough painting.’ Trailed a lazy finger up an accidental-on-purpose patch of bare thigh.

Noted Ed’s narrowed eyes glued to her finger.

Keep calm, and drink slowly.

Then nab your man.

No way was she going to let herself return home without jumping him.

There was a whole weekend ahead of her. She could afford to take her time.

She was a Burlesque teacher, seduction was her business, and if his gaze on her leg was anything to go by, he was there for the taking, whatever he was pretending. Ultimately, she had the power to make him do exactly what she wanted, when she wanted, and she’d do well to remember that, although when she stopped to analyse it, he’d given very little of himself away this far. Possibly because she hadn’t taken the time to ask.

‘So, tell me how you set up all these fireworks then?’ She offered a softening smile. ‘Do we need to save the empty wine bottle?’

Starting by getting him to talk. When his reply came it had just the amount of wounded indignation she’d anticipated.

‘It’s not just about propping rockets in bottles you know.’

She did know, very well, but she was happy for him to tell her anyway. Happy to sit and let his dark voice drift over her in the balmy night air, as he explained the intricacies of triple breaking shells, ignition procedures and software-aided choreography. Enjoying the way he took pains to describe it to her, made sure she understood, infecting her with his unbridled enthusiasm for all things explosive. Only an hour and a half later, as her prompts dwindled, and she stifled a yawn, did he show any sign of stopping.

‘Time for bed?’ He was smiling, looking her straight in the eye, and not a hint of flirtation or ambiguity, dammit. ‘We’ve an early start in the morning. I’ll let you use the bathroom first.’

Full steam ahead to single beds then?

Millie ground her teeth. She’d been lured here under false pretences. No way was she bringing out the full blown seduction yet, but she’d make darned sure this wasn’t easy for him.

When Ed came back to the tent from the bathroom, Millie was sitting cross legged on her camp bed, in a vest and tiny shorts, brushing her hair. Knowing, simply from the way he sucked in a breath as he pushed through the entrance flap, that he was reacting. Not that she made a habit of hanging herself out there, but this guy deserved to be brought off the fence, big style.

She threw out a line. ‘Any chance you could help me sort this mosquito net?’

Sensing his hesitation, she concentrated on the distant noise of cicadas outside, overlaid now with the deep thud of his heart, resonating across the space between them.

‘Of course, no problem.’ Grating as a gravel-pit, and, at a guess, he was lying. Hugely.

And totally underestimating how she’d react herself, how much she wanted him, now she was sitting here, barely dressed.

Dragging in one long ragged breath, she pushed herself to standing, trembling slightly. He raked his eyes over her, swallowed hard, still in his jeans, and the dark thrust of his erection giving him away like nothing else could.

‘Get into bed.’ His low rasp was determined. ‘Then I’ll sort the mosquito net.’

Point taken. Off the fence, in anyone’s book. And given her mission for tonight was done, she should be doing as he requested, except she wasn’t. She couldn’t walk away, not now, because her legs wouldn’t work like that. Instead she found herself crossing the floor towards him, the rush matting smooth under her bare feet, the scent of clean man, warm skin, wrapping itself around her head as she drew closer. Reaching up to touch, she stretched out a hand, aching to feel the roughness of his jaw against her palm.

‘Millie … ’ Chiding now, warning, he circled her wrist with strong, resistant fingers.

And just as she’d braced herself to be wrenched away from him he hesitated, turned to bury his face in her hand, ran his lips along her inner arm, all the way to the crook of her elbow, his stubble sending a scale of notes tumbling through the tender skin that left her legs quaking.

Then he grasped her hand again, spun her swiftly around, and led her firmly back towards her bed. ‘Get in … ’

‘Why?’ Feeling like a sulky child being ordered around, and no doubt she sounded like one.

‘Get in, because I need to talk to you.’

‘Why waste time talking?’ Anger, and disappointment writhed in her chest. He’d pushed her away again, and suddenly she didn’t care how belligerent she sounded. ‘You’re the one who suggested the no-strings sex. What the hell happened to majoring on pleasure? Not meaning to be rude, but there’s firm evidence to suggest you’re up for it, so why back off now?’

‘I need to be sure you can handle it.’ He pulled in a juddering breath. ‘Maybe you’re not as empowered as I thought. Sorry to sound boring, but I need to know it isn’t going to hurt you a whole lot more than you’re already hurt.’

How the hell did he know she was hurt? ‘You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Well that’s fine. Let’s leave it there then.’

She opened her mouth, thinking to explode, then closed it again. All the way to frigging Provence, and he says leave it there? How about no? If there’d been a proper ceiling she’d have been bouncing off it. From the closed down look on his face he was serious. Surely not?

‘So you’re saying no sex without a preliminary talk?’

Before she’d been wavering about whether to go through with it, but his flat denial made her know she wanted it. Badly.

He nodded. ‘That’s about it. Your choice.’

She shifted on the camp bed, which creaked loudly, and gave an inward groan ten times louder than the complaining bed frame.

‘Okay. So what do you want to know?’ Keeping her cool here.

Straight forward seduction would be so much simpler.

‘You can start by me telling me about the guy.’

The guy? Her stomach crunched. ‘Which guy?’

‘Don’t make this difficult. The one who hurt you.’

She clenched her teeth, beat her fists against her thighs in frustration. And then she gave in. Ever so slightly.

‘He was called Josh.’

‘And?’ Ed caught hold of a quilt from the end of the bed. ‘Here, you lie down, I’ll sit on the floor. Jeans permitting.’ He gave a momentary grimace. ‘It’ll be easier like that. At least for me.’

As she turned onto her side, put her head on the pillow, the light cover spilled over her, then he stooped to fold himself cross-legged on the floor. Flopped one arm casually across her hip, just like that. Easy and comfy. She could have stayed like that forever.

‘Okay. So who the hell was Josh?’

She started, as he spat his question through gritted teeth.

‘Sorry.’ He corrected himself quickly, spoke more reasonably this time. ‘Who was Josh?’

She raised her eyebrows, sucked in a sigh.

‘Josh and I went out for a couple of years that was all.’ Play it down. No need to say he was her first real boyfriend and that they’d gone out for four years.

‘A couple of years?’

‘Okay, three. Four maybe.’

‘Your first proper relationship?’

She, nodded, then regretting it, turned on him. ‘What is this – interrogation?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘No, I simply want to understand why you’re still in pieces, how many years down the line did you say it was?’

‘I didn’t.’ She flipped him a dirty look, for pretending to know what she’d hadn’t told him. ‘It’s two years since we broke up.’

He shifted, the pressure of his arm on her hip, shifting to her waist. She shifted in turn beneath it.

‘So, tell me more about him.’ Prompting, coaxing now. ‘What was he like, what did he do?’

‘We were both at uni, and on the face of it, he had it all. He was clever, good looking, had more money than he knew what to do with, and charm by the bucketful.’

Missing out the bits about the fast, rich, lifestyle, about being the golden couple everyone wanted to be like, meant to last forever.

Ed sniffed, flashed her a rueful grin. ‘Getting the picture, and I already hate him.’

‘That’s why the stuff you do is such a blast. With Josh it was all about impressing people, all about how big, how much. All meaningless, all empty. It’s been so cool to do real things, with a real, grounded, honest person, just for a short time. It kind of showed me what matters, what I should look out for, when I finally decide to settle down.’

Ed cleared his throat, appeared to be examining the floor at length.

There, she’d even embarrassed him by saying that, that was the kind of nice guy he was.

‘Settling down being decades in the future. Obviously.’ Adding that in, just so he was clear.

Eventually he looked up again. ‘So why did you break up?’

‘The first time I asked anything of him he ran out on me. I needed him to be there for me, and he melted away. Legged it. It was a horrible shock.’ She expected her voice to crack, but was surprised to hear the words, flat and without emotion.

‘I can imagine.’

Lucky he could, because no way would she share the awful details, not with anyone, ever.

She moved on swiftly. ‘At the time I thought he loved me, but afterwards I realised he wasn’t capable of loving anyone but himself. That he had nothing whatsoever to give to anyone else. It was my mistake, I chose the wrong guy.’

‘And that’s what stopped you trusting people?’

‘Yep. Being let down, by someone you love is the worst feeling, and I’d rather not risk it again.’ Strange to talk about it now, dismissing all that pain in a few simple sentences.

He studied her thoughtfully. ‘And are you over him?’

‘Over him personally, yes.’ And somehow, as she spoke it out loud to Ed, she knew for certain for the first time, that she was over Josh, and the revelation sent a flutter through her stomach.

‘Over the whole experience?’

She shrugged, turned her mouth down at the corners, knowing it was something she wouldn’t ever get over. ‘Ask me again in five years.’

‘Not everyone is like him, Millie.’ He shook his head, sadly she thought. ‘And hopefully you’ve learnt from it.’

She let her face break into a rueful grin. ‘I learned two good rules for life. One, I want to be self-reliant, and two, I’ll never to go within ten miles of a rich guy.’

She heard him let out a hollow laugh, as he sprung to his feet. ‘Make sure you stick to that then, but you’d better watch out – most men in Provence are loaded.’

One fleeting pat on her shoulder, and he’d backed away.

Two minutes later, he’d arranged her mosquito net, turned down the light, and she heard the creak of his own camp-bed as he got in.

And that was that.

BOWLING through the morning sun towards Avignon, in the under-powered hire car, and Ed had decided surviving the weekend was going to be a whole heap easier if he made sure there were obstructions between him and Millie.

Physical obstructions.

Like the table at breakfast, the gear stick now, the thirty glorious miles of no-man’s-land he’d have put between them, when he’d dropped her in town, and he was back in the village sorting out the final preparations for tonight’s display. Because without physical barriers, he was having one hell of a job keeping his hands off her.

And hands off was how it had to be.

One lucky break then, that he’d hit on the idea of talking. When they talked it kept her a. occupied, b. still, and, c. – this far at least – out of his danger zone.

‘So what about your family?’ He threw out an easy opener, designed to guarantee trouble-free conversation, so long as he didn’t allow her to flip the subject onto him.

Jumping at his question, just a little, but she composed herself for a quick reply.

‘We’re pretty normal really. Mum, Dad, three girls. I guess the main thing that made us different was my sister being ill. I’m the middle child. Middle children are meant to go wild, as a way of grabbing some attention, and I didn’t disappoint on that score.’

‘And still rebelling now?’ He was trying to avoid looking at her, but he broke convention to flash her a grin, then instantly regretted it when he was rewarded with her dazzler of a smile that turned his guts to butter.

‘You noticed then.’ She chortled. ‘Old habits – can’t give ‘em up. But seriously, it was hard having a sister who was ill. We just got on with it, but looking back my parents were eaten up with the caring and the hospitals and the anxiety, and it was normal that any energy they had left went to my younger sister. She’s always going to stay the baby, however old she gets. I was left to myself a lot. I spent hours on my own, making things, painting and drawing, but that’s what I went on to do at uni, so it wasn’t all bad.’

A very optimistic view, given how wobbly she’d been the other day about her family.

‘And what about sibling rivalry. Did you fight?’ Padding it out here, but hell, he needed to, given that Avignon was still miles away. He was also tentatively searching for common ground, because where sibling rivalry was concerned, he was an expert.

‘You aren’t supposed to fight with ill kids, and there’s huge pressure to be nice to them, but I was insanely jealous of my older sister. Couldn’t help it. The younger one was pretty much in the same boat as me.’

And good to meet a fellow sufferer.

‘Do you see them much?’

‘Now and again. My mother hates my tattoos.’

That would be a plural there, so he was right, it wasn’t just the tendrils on her leg. He allowed himself a private smirk of congratulation, and a swift glimpse at her shin as she carried on.

‘Let’s say my parents are still coming to terms with who I’ve chosen to be, how I live my life. I’m sure we’ll get there. Eventually.’ Out of the corner of his eye he saw her shrug diffidently. ‘So how about you. Tell me about your family?’

Damn. Too busy smirking to see that deflection coming. ‘My family is large, complex, and better not talked about.’ Just about covered the whole goddam nightmare of it. ‘But I’ve been thinking about what we talked about last night.’

Avoidance tactics. Go on the offensive.

‘And?’

‘I wondered what made you decide to ditch your life-plan.’

He could see by the way she chomped on her lip, the question had stopped her in her tracks, then made her wind most of today’s skirt around her fingers.

‘Are you wearing shorts under there?’ An emergency enquiry, best to check, before she induced a full-blown heart attack.

‘Obviously.’

Except it wasn’t obvious at all or he wouldn’t have asked.

‘Although technically these are knicker shorts. They’re thinner for the heat, with a bit of lace, but they do the same job.’ She looked puzzled. ‘So what’s that got to do with my life-plan?’

Ed concentrated hard to banish all thoughts of Millie’s bits of lace, and failed miserably.

‘Well, as I understood it, there was no space in your life for majoring on pleasure, or any man who might make that happen, and suddenly, last night, there you were, hell bent on talking your way into my bed. So what changed?’ He allowed himself one glance her way, to max out the way those lovely, full lips parted in shock, then sat back to wait.

Not expecting a fast response, he had to swallow his own surprise when she came right back at him.

‘I gave it a lot of thought, and decided to make an exception, for one time only. First, because you promised you’d be leaving, second, because for two years I’ve been trying to make myself emotionally self-reliant, and I thought sex with you would be a good test of how far I’d come.’ Only the way she was chewing the life out of her thumb nail now gave any indication she wasn’t supremely confident. ‘You see, for me temporary is good. I wouldn’t have considered it at all without that temporary guarantee, and somehow I knew you wouldn’t mind being the guinea pig here. So what do you think?’

Not sure how to take the whole the guinea pig thing, but the rest was convincing him that she’d thought this one out, and might be strong enough to enjoy it after all. Just the once, on their very last date, which according to Cassie’s rules was Date Ten, not forgetting he still had to meet both families. And as this weekend was clocking in as Date Seven, that was still a hell of a long way down the line, adding up to one hell of a lot of temptation to resist.

‘I think you might have swung it.’ Spinning her an encouraging beam, because it was way too early for the wicked grin he wanted to deal her. ‘One last thing.’ He was clutching frantically for delaying tactics here. ‘Before we move on to major on pleasure, you need to dance for me first.’

Counting to five, bracing himself, time for her to take a breath and hit the stop button.

‘No way!’

Fired like a bullet from a gun, and landing right on target.

He pursed his lips to contain his smirk of self-congratulation. ‘Can I ask why not?’

‘Dancing’s private. It’s a girl thing.’

That one made him splutter, loudly, even though he was ultimately in favour of her declining.

‘Your Santa Baby client’s going to show her dance to a man I presume. As his Christmas gift, and a very nice one too. I approve of gifts like that.’

The determined set of Millie’s jaw was encouraging. ‘One big difference, the Santa Baby guy isn’t temporary.’

He heaved a mental sigh of relief, and thanked his lucky fireworks she liked arguing. She wasn’t about to back down on this one any time soon.

‘Well, this is Avignon coming up, so it looks as though we’ll have to continue this discussion later.’

‘This isn’t up for discussion Ed, this one’s non negotiable.’ Belted straight back at him, with a force that took even an explosives expert by surprise.

Better and better.

He wasn’t entirely sure how many dates he could spin this one out for. Millie was gritting her teeth now, and she had an un-nerving habit of caving when he least expected, but anything was a bonus, and if he played this right, the hands-off scenario would be a given for this whole weekend. Biting his lip now, to keep his face from splitting into a grin the width of the horizon, whooping silently, and doing a mental high-five. He had scored himself a safe pass. The pressure was off.

Except then she bent down to pull her handbag off the car floor, sending a whole wave of woman scent powering into his face, and he knew by the way his stomach hit the deck that as far as she was concerned, for him the pressure would never be off.

Because simply being near Millie Brown sent his libido quietly and inexorably crazy.

***

Early evening, and the whole village was heaving as Ed wound his way through the narrow streets, dodging the moneyed, sun-varnished visitors who had flocked to be seen against the backdrop of the picturesque evening market, milling in readiness for the fireworks later. Picking up Millie from Avignon had gone better than expected. As anticipated, the volume of her shopping bags was a serious challenge for the rental car – a truck would have been a better option. But the good news was she’d barely paused for breath as she animatedly filled him in on the day’s exploits and purchases, and they’d grabbed something quick to eat at a roadside cafe – thank you Cassie. Then he’d dropped her at the tent, mumbled something about showers, and fled.

Sorting out a firework display had to be a good enough excuse for anyone.

Except he knew the guys could handle things perfectly without him hanging around, like they always did when he was off on bigger, more exciting projects, and he didn’t want to tread on their toes now. Sentimental he was not, but he’d been coming to his parents’ chateau here longer than he could remember. The Mitchum family had been making an annual donation to the village to cover the costs of the summer fireworks for years before he got into the firework business, and although he’d always secured the contract on his own merits, it was a matter of honor to put on a stunning show every year. Somewhere down the line the summer festival fireworks in the village were as much of a calendar-marker for him as Christmas, and taking responsibility for the design of this show by turning up to work alongside the guys was something he’d always held on to, regardless of his growing work commitments elsewhere.

But right now the guys didn’t need him. And he knew he was stalling. Staying as far away from Millie as he could, because the idea of shepherding her through the crowds, being forced to rub against the whole delicious smell of her, to press against the enticing heat of her, tied his gut into knots. He was one strong guy, but something told him that might tip him over the edge, and although he was cringing with guilt at running out on her like this, right now the few hundred yards between them just didn’t seem like enough.

***

When Millie came out of the pool house after her shower later that evening, the long evening shadows on the garden were already smudging towards dusk. Ed had rushed off, no doubt to make last minute adjustments to his shell firing and ignition systems – oh yes, she had been listening last night – so she’d had no reason to hurry. She’d had a quick shuffle through her pile of shopping bags, knowing the real thrill would come when she opened them up again back home next week. She limited herself to extracting one star item from the bags to try on later, a gorgeous black vintage jacket, bought from a second-hand clothes stall, whose cut hugged her so close it had seemed like fate to find it waiting for her.

Shivering slightly despite the warm evening air, she ran her fingers through her hair as she scanned the distant smokey hills, thankful that she’d found a hair dryer in the shower room. She doubted she would ever earn enough to treat herself to a cut at the top London salon she used to go to so regularly when she’d accepted the allowance from her parents. How she’d taken that for granted. What she used to spend on haircuts alone would keep her going for months in the country up north. Picking up that mountain of shopping today in town had re-awakened an unsettling hunger for the urban buzz she craved. She ignored the niggle deep inside, spurring her on to get back to the city she loved. As much as she missed it she was certain she’d only go back on her own terms, as an independent woman, who supported herself.

One grimace allowed, but only if she buried those pangs. She looked at her bags. Mountain of shopping? Mountain range more like. Triple Merci beaucoup. One for cash machines and credit cards, two, for the pool house to store it in, and three, for Ed’s offer to transport it all home in the company van. At least her visit hadn’t been wasted, not that a visit to Provence was ever a waste, but her original premise for getting on the plane had gone right out of the window, when Ed had turned cooler than a polar bear’s toe-nails.

One red hot guy who couldn’t make up his mind, ready enough to talk about sex, dangle it tantalisingly in front of her, then whipping the offer away, and driving her wild into the bargain. Maybe it had only been her own wishful thinking to imagine it was ever on the cards.

And now, even keeping her at arm’s length didn’t seem enough. Today she’d noticed he’d been resorting to obstacles to keep her at bay. At the cafe he’d pretty much dived for the shelter of the table, and it had been the same at breakfast. In the tent he’d deftly circled behind the cane loungers. So much for majoring on pleasure. When a guy was hiding behind furniture to make sure you didn’t jump him, maybe it was time to let go.

Except he had to be the best kisser in the world.

And although both were kisses which he’d broken, almost before they’d begun, she couldn’t help imagine how the next bit would have been. She’d been doing it since the first day she woke up snogging him. It hadn’t exactly become an obsession, but it did fill a large proportion of her waking hours and stopped her getting to sleep at night, especially when the man in question was in a creaking camp-bed, a scant two yards away from her.

Hitching up her towel, she headed towards the tent, vintage jacket in hand. Ed would be gone until after midnight, and that was hours away. She would wander into the village later, to watch the fireworks. They would surely be the only action she saw from Ed any time soon.

Back in the gloom of the tent, she lit the oil lamp, rifled through the camp chest of drawers for underwear, then slipped on the jacket. Tailored short, black, with a deliciously nipped in waist, she twisted in front of the mirror to admire it.

‘Wow!’ That forties cut worked wonders for a girl’s rear view, but definitely called for heels. She grabbed the pair of precipitous courts she’d brought, which had seemed a regrettable waste of case-space when she’d seen the cobbled village streets, and twirled again, smoothing the silk over the curves of her hips. ‘Oh, yes! Perfect.’

Had to be worth every Euro of debt.

‘And I’ll second that … ’

One hoarse growl, that jolted her six inches into the air, and made her heart lodge somewhere in her throat. She’d have cried out, but her breath had whooshed away.