Snowbound Seduction (8 page)

One thing was for sure, the landlady hadn't been joking when she'd said the ceiling was low. Rachel had to bend her head and when Zac reached the top stair and stepped into the room, he was bent almost double. That aside, the room was large—although a good third was unusable, the ceiling height falling to no more than two or three feet in places—and fully carpeted. What looked like a custom-made double bed stood under two roof lights, although these were shrouded with snow. The legs of the bedstead were only six inches high so that the bed virtually sat on the floor. One wall had open shelving, along with a bar on which coat hangers hung—presumably because a traditional wardrobe wouldn't have fitted into the space—and a low coffee table by the door held an electric kettle, cups and saucers and the traditional hotel packets of coffee, tea and sugar, along with several small packets of biscuits and tiny cartons of UHT milk.

The room could have been termed quaint—if you were a young child or extremely small adult. As it was…

The landlady looked at their faces. ‘There's nothing else.'

Rachel had been hoping for twin beds or at least a comfy armchair where she could curl up with a blanket. Groaning inwardly, she forced a polite smile. ‘It's fine.'

‘Well, I'll leave you to get sorted out and come down when you're ready, all right? There's a table for two by the fire free—you'll soon be nice and warm again.' The landlady smiled a beatific smile and bustled out.

Zac placed the suitcases on the floor, took off his overcoat and sat down on the bed so he could stretch his aching neck muscles. ‘Never let it be said I don't know how to give a girl a good time,' he said wryly, glancing around their surroundings.

Rachel giggled. She felt slightly hysterical. She'd been right about the log fires, oak beams and so on—it was just the building in question was an old inn and she and Zac had been thrust into a situation she could never have foreseen. Kicking off her walking boots, she said, ‘Shouldn't you phone and let them know we aren't going to make it tonight?'

He nodded, stretching his long legs and flexing his shoulders before digging his phone out of his pocket. Rachel wondered how perfectly natural actions could be so mouth-wateringly sexy where Zac was concerned. And how she was going to get through the next few hours without forgetting every good reason why she shouldn't sleep with him.

She pulled on her new boots and squatted down in front of the mirror on the wall to tidy her hair, reflecting it was the first time in her life she'd felt like a giant. Her knees were aching by the time she'd renewed her lipstick and straightened up. Zac was lying on the bed
watching her, having finished his phone call. Ignoring the smouldering tawny eyes, she said, ‘Shall we go and get something to eat? I'm starving.'

‘Me too.'

She knew he wasn't referring to food but pretended she didn't. ‘Was Martin OK about us not coming?' she asked for something to say, turning and reaching for her handbag.

‘Of course. Half the guests haven't turned up apparently.' As she opened the bedroom door he uncoiled his long body and stood up—as best he could. ‘I can't believe it's legal to ask money for a room like this,' he muttered, after bumping his head on the doorframe as he followed her down the perilous staircase. ‘It's only fit for leprechauns.'

She turned to face him on the first-floor landing, slightly more at ease now they'd left their intimate little bird's nest. ‘It's probably not legal. The landlady didn't strike me as someone who'd bother too much about things like that, or health and safety either.' She glanced at the landing window where the whirling snow was battering against the glass. ‘Still, lucky for us it was available, all things considered.'

‘Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining.' He reached out and smoothed a lock of hair from her cheek, his fingers stroking her throat for an infinitesimal moment. ‘It's just not what I'd got in mind for you this weekend, that's all.'

Not what she'd had in mind either. Especially the double bed.

‘I was going to wow you with Martin's mansion and his umpteen acres, including a trout lake and stables and what have you, not to mention the indoor leisure complex and swarm of servants. Instead…' his eyes
narrowed sexily and his mouth curved in a self-derisive smile ‘…there's just me and Gulliver's room.'

Rachel's stomach flipped over. As a seduction technique it was very good. He'd obviously had a lot of practice in that department. So why, knowing that, did her traitorous body respond so fiercely? She cleared her throat, determined to gain control. And she might have done if Zac hadn't chosen that moment to kiss her again. Drawing her into his arms, he lifted her chin, tilting her face so he could gain full access to her mouth. The kiss wasn't threatening; in fact, it was gentle—an unbelievably slow, erotic exploration that melted her bones. The desire that had sent her blood racing from the first moment she'd set eyes on him became longing; he kissed better than Giles or any of her other boyfriends, better than she would have dreamt possible. All her fantasies rolled into one.

His lips caressed her throat, her eyelids, the corners of her mouth, sweeping away caution and reason so that when he took her lips again she kissed him back. His mouth was urgent, hungry, and the taste, the delicious smell of him spun in her head. He moved slightly, moulding her into him so she fitted more comfortably into his hard frame, and she felt his strength, his desire against her softness.

The sound of a door opening downstairs brought them apart. As someone came out into the hall below and then began to climb the stairs, Zac took her arm, moving her along the landing as though they'd just left their room. He seemed totally unperturbed and in control, and to Rachel's fevered senses it was like a sharp slap across the face.

She forced her mind into automatic so she could cope with returning the polite ‘Good evening' the rosy-
cheeked walker gave them as he passed at the top of the stairs, and then as she descended to the hall with Zac behind her, she clenched her teeth, breathing through her nose. This whole thing, their—what? flirtation, brief dalliance, game—meant little to Zac beyond a mild spot of intrigue to while away the spare hours while he was in England. His reaction to what she had considered the most mind-blowing experience of her life was proof of that. He hadn't felt an iota of what she had.

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes and she blinked them away fiercely, angry at her weakness. She was not going to cry; she was not going to give him any inkling of what that kiss had done to her. This had been a timely reminder from her guardian angel that men were as different from women as chalk to cheese. A man's emotions were all tied up with a certain part of his anatomy that—once satisfied—moved on to the next conquest. How many times did she have to learn the same lesson, for goodness' sake? She was stupid, so stupid.

Rachel marched through to the pub lounge without looking behind her or waiting for Zac, pushing open the door and stepping into the noisy room with her head held high. Jennie and Susan would have recognised the attitude of bravado: they'd witnessed it many times in the aftermath of Giles's betrayal. They would have understood that from childhood Rachel had become adept at disguising her feelings and that wearing her heart on her sleeve was alien to her. She walked over to the table by the fire the landlady had mentioned and sat down, Zac a step behind her. Looking up at him, she gave a brilliant smile. ‘This is nice.' She held out her hands to the crackling flames.

His mouth quirked attractively. ‘You're easily pleased.'

How right he was, but she wouldn't make the same mistake again. Looking around him, she said, ‘The landlady's waving two menus at us, I think she wants you to collect them. And I'll have a glass of red wine while you're there.'

There was a shadow of puzzlement in the golden eyes—he had clearly picked up that something had changed. He stared at her for a long moment, his smile dying, and then turned and went to the bar. She continued to look at him, her peripheral vision taking in the little stir he'd caused among the female component of the walkers.

Her mouth tightened. They were stuck here for tonight, that was as clear as the nose on her face, but come morning she would make it plain she had no intention of continuing to the house party. She wanted to go home. And he might be able to charm the birds out of the trees but tonight he was going to find himself with one girl who was well and truly immune to the great Zac Lawson. And he could put that little experience in his pipe and smoke it.

Z
AC CAME BACK WITH A
bottle of wine and two glasses, the menus tucked under one arm. After handing her a menu and pouring them both a glass of wine, he settled back in his chair and said expressionlessly, ‘OK, what have I done?'

She waited for two or three seconds before raising her eyes from the menu. ‘I'm sorry? I don't know what you mean.'

‘You're a different person suddenly.'

She raised her eyebrows. ‘I have no idea what you're talking about. I think we need to order, don't we? It's late.'

‘Is it because I've messed up the weekend and we're stuck here?' he asked levelly. ‘Are you mad at me?'

Her chin tilted a fraction higher. ‘Of course not. And you haven't messed up the weekend. Even you can't control the weather. Now, we really do need to decide on food.'

He surveyed her silently for enough time for Rachel to squirm inwardly, but she was determined not to show any weakness. ‘Then it must be because I kissed you,' he said thoughtfully. ‘We were OK before then. Did you assume I was preparing the ground for the full deployment when we go back to the room?'

Rather than him guess the truth, that would do. She took a sip of wine before she dared look him in the eyes. ‘Weren't you?' she challenged.

There was another long pause. ‘I don't know,' he said with a frown. ‘I kissed you because I wanted to, because I long to kiss or touch you every moment I'm with you, and if you want the truth I would very much like to sleep with you. I can't help that, Rachel. I'm a man. However…' There was a distinct pause. ‘I'm not an animal. I've never once taken a woman to bed who wasn't one hundred per cent willing, so you have nothing to fear from me.'

She didn't doubt he'd never had to cajole or manipulate a woman; there was probably a queue round the block of willing females ready to warm his bed. Coolly, she said, ‘I'll have the steak and kidney pie with onion mash and seasonal vegetables,' as she handed the menu back to him. ‘You order at the bar.'

‘I'm aware of that,' he said, equally coolly.

She was behaving very badly. As she watched Zac talking to the landlady she suddenly felt very small and very alone in the crowded room. She'd bet she'd get no argument from him tomorrow about taking her home, he probably couldn't wait to get rid of her. Her mouth drooped at the corners and her gaze turned inwards. Somehow her life hadn't turned out at all as she'd expected when she and Jennie and Susan had been carefree students. She didn't profess to be anything special, far from it, but she'd thought by the age of twenty-seven she would be married, probably with the prospect of a family high on the agenda. She'd never envisaged a lifetime career in marketing.

Had she been too choosy with the men she'd dated before Giles? She pictured one or two in her mind. But
if the spark wasn't there, it wasn't there, surely? She'd liked them, had had fun and some good times, but she'd never been tempted to think of them as ‘the one'.

She hadn't been aware Zac had left the bar but when he slid into his seat, saying, ‘It's OK, Rachel. Really,' her head shot up to meet his gaze. His face was impassive.

She made a gesture of confusion. ‘I'm sorry?'

‘I'm not going to ravish you in the middle of the night when you're asleep or leap on you the minute we get back to the room. I promise. Now, could you please stop looking as though every moment with me is torture, because you're making the landlady think we don't appreciate the luxury of our surroundings.'

She looked into his eyes, saw the hidden laughter in the golden orbs and wanted to kick him. ‘She does not.'

‘Oh, yes, she does,' he informed her solemnly. ‘“Zac”, she said—we're on first-name terms now—“it must be my inn that's putting that expression on your girlfriend's face because it couldn't be you. You're too charming, too wonderful, too altogether fascinating for it to be you.”'

‘Don't be so ridiculous.' She glared at him. ‘And I am
not
your girlfriend.'

‘Ah, but she doesn't know that. Your eagerness to share a room with me didn't help either. In her eyes we're definitely an item,' he said with an air of satisfaction.

Rachel had made the mistake of taking a sip of wine. Now she spluttered and choked a little before banging the glass down on the table. ‘I most definitely was
not
eager to share a room with you. It just so happens that it's the only room left in the place and I was tired and cold and hungry.'

‘
I
know that.' His tone was soothing, exaggeratedly so. ‘But the landlady doesn't. She said—'

‘I really don't care what the landlady was supposed to have said, and I don't believe she said anything anyway.'

He smiled, a genuine smile, one that crinkled his eyes and accelerated Rachel's breathing. ‘“Oh, ye of little faith…”'

Trying to maintain a glare, she took another sip of wine. She needed the boost to her system. ‘I'll sleep in a chair down here tonight,' she said waspishly. ‘That'll settle things.'

‘No can do. Fire and safety regulations.'

‘You're making that up,' she accused, not fooled by his innocent expression. ‘Like the rest of this silly conversation.'

‘Would I?' he drawled lazily, not in the least put out.

Impossible man. Impossible situation. ‘Absolutely.'

One of the walkers, a healthy, tanned, attractive blonde girl in tight jeans and an even tighter T-shirt, sashayed slowly past their table, staring at Zac with what Rachel considered brazen interest. Suddenly she felt as deflated as a pricked balloon. The girl was brimming over with eager exuberance and self-confidence, and she was lovely. She wouldn't have any hang-ups about sleeping with a handsome single man; in fact, she'd probably make the first move in the bed department.

Rachel watched the high ponytail of sleek curls bob as the girl passed, her perfect little derrière displayed to maximum advantage in the snug denim. She didn't look a day over eighteen and she oozed life and vivacity, a boldness and assurance about her that suggested she
was happily comfortable inside her skin. That was the kind of woman Zac should be with.

‘What are you thinking?'

‘What?' Startled, her eyes snapped to his.

‘The look on your face…' His voice hesitated and stopped. His golden eyes held hers. After what seemed an age, he said softly, ‘You're an enigma, do you know that? I find myself feeling like a schoolboy when I'm with you, wanting to do something outrageous to impress you.'

She stared at him, too taken aback to hide it.

‘And I don't know why,' he continued, still in the same quiet tone. ‘You're beautiful, but I've known many beautiful women in my time and none of them have affected me the way you do. I want to know everything you think and feel, what makes you happy and what makes you sad, what you like and don't like, what's made you into the woman you are.'

Mesmerised, she murmured, ‘I'm not beautiful.'

‘Oh, but you are, in a gentle, soft and very dangerous way. A way that makes a man forget who he is and what he wants out of life,' he added wryly, a self-derisive quirk to his lips.

He couldn't be talking about her. Rachel's eyes fell to her hands. Siren material she definitely was not.

‘So, you see, I need to understand you but every time I think I've found out one facet it changes, like the clouds on a windy day. Which is…unsettling.' He gave a growl of a laugh. ‘Very unsettling.'

Unthinkingly, Rachel finished her glass of wine and watched his strong, capable fingers as he poured her another. ‘You're making me out to be someone I'm not,' she whispered when he settled back in his chair, his
face broodingly intent on hers. ‘I'm very ordinary, as it happens.'

Again the growl of a laugh rumbled. ‘Rachel, you're many things, and a whole host of them damn exasperating, but ordinary you are most definitely not.'

Her chin rose. ‘If I'm such a trial, why have you persisted in asking me out? Wouldn't it have been easier to walk away?'

‘I told you, I need to suss you out if I'm going to have any peace of mind when I go back home.' His voice had lost all amusement. ‘And you know I will go back, don't you?' He leaned forward. ‘I have to. My work, family, friends—my
life's
in Canada.'

They stared at each other wordlessly, the silence stretching until Rachel was ready to scream. From somewhere she found the strength to speak at last. ‘I haven't asked you to stay, Zac.'

His mouth tightened for a moment, then relaxed. ‘True.'

Self-preservation urged her on. ‘Nor would I,' she added, sounding brutal even to her own ears. ‘The last thing I want is—'

‘Me?' he cut in drily.

‘A relationship. With
anyone
,' she emphasised softly. ‘The thing with Giles…' She paused for a moment. ‘Well, it made me realise I don't want to put myself in the same position again. Not for a long, long time anyway.'

He refilled his own glass and before the conversation could continue, one of the girls from behind the bar came bustling up with two steaming plates. ‘Two steak and kidney pies?' she enquired cheerily, as though the place was full of customers who'd recently ordered. Depositing a plate in front of each of them, she added,
‘The veg and mash are on their way, all right? Is there anything else I can get you?'

Zac raised his eyebrows at Rachel and when she shook her head, he smiled at the waitress. ‘Nothing, thanks. This looks great. Smells good too.'

The girl smiled back, lowering her voice and bending towards them as she said, ‘The food's fabulous here, that's what makes it so popular. Ken, the chef, owns the place too and he used to be head chef at one of the big London hotels till him and Maggie…' she gestured towards the landlady with a jerk of her head ‘…got married. They've built up a real good reputation,' she added proudly. ‘Folk come from miles around to eat here.'

Rachel smiled. There was something ingenuous about the young girl's enthusiasm. ‘You obviously like working here.'

‘Love it,' she answered promptly. ‘Life's too short to stay anywhere you don't like, isn't it? Live for today, that's what I say. Make the most of each minute and there's no regrets.'

She gave them a beaming smile and then, as another girl brought the dishes of mashed potato and vegetables, took them from her, placed them in the centre of the table and walked back to the bar. Rachel gazed after her; she was young to be a sage.

‘She's right, you know.' Zac had just taken a bite of his pie while Rachel helped herself to the mash and veg. ‘Dead right.'

‘About the food?' she asked, passing him a serving spoon.

‘No. Well, that too, but I meant the living-for-today bit.' He eyed her innocently. ‘Perhaps that's what we should do this weekend? Live for the moment with no thought to tomorrow?'

She managed a creditable laugh. ‘Why is it men always come up with that one when they've got an ulterior motive in mind?' she said lightly, glad he had taken her earlier rebuff without sulking. Giles had sulked. Often.

He'd heaped up his plate and now he grinned at her. He looked big and dark and so handsome he took her breath away. She wondered what he'd say if she told him that from the first moment they'd met she'd had wildly erotic and definitely X-rated fantasies about him. Not that she ever would.

She swallowed hard, fighting to remain unmoved by the sexual magnetism he exerted as naturally as breathing. And failing miserably. She had a mental picture of the big double bed in their room and swallowed again, panic slicing in, hot and strong.

‘This is delicious—try some. The pie's packed with meat.'

Zac was totally relaxed and eating his meal with relish, clearly untroubled by the kind of thoughts assailing her. And in spite of all he'd said, he seemed pretty unperturbed by her ultimate rejection of him too. Men really were a different species, she thought with a mixture of anger and bewilderment. And then she caught a heavenly whiff of the steak and kidney pie that made her mouth water, at the same time as her stomach reminded her she hadn't eaten for aeons.

To hell with it. She picked up her knife and fork and tucked in. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

 

The steak and kidney pie was swiftly followed by apple crumble and custard, and by the coffee stage of the meal Rachel was sitting toasting her toes in front of the fire, listening to the merry group of walkers hollering out
one Christmas carol after another. They were a lively bunch but tuneless.

The landlady had brought two brandies with the coffee, insisting they were the promised ‘warm-up' drinks and on the house, and with her stomach full and the wine having taken the edge off her worry about the night ahead, Rachel felt almost mellow as she sipped the spirit.

‘Against all the odds, this is nice.' Zac had taken off his jacket and loosened his tie, undoing the first couple of buttons of his shirt. It had caused her a few momentary problems at the time but her body had just about adjusted. She glanced at him as he spoke and the golden gaze was waiting for her.

Rachel smiled. ‘Yes, it is.' They'd talked of amusing, inconsequential things during the meal, putting the previous tenseness behind them by unspoken mutual consent. If they could just stay here like this all night she'd be OK, she thought now with wry humour. But that double bed loomed large.

Zac swallowed the last of his brandy. ‘Fancy another?' he offered, rising to his feet. ‘We haven't got far to go to bed.'

Two glasses of wine and a brandy was really her limit, she'd never been able to drink alcohol at the same level as most of the other students at uni and her tolerance had got less since. Tonight, though, satisfyingly warm and replete, a spirit of recklessness took hold. ‘Lovely.' She held out her glass.