The Housewife and the Film Star (5 page)

"Now, you sound like my mother, woman."

"Don't
woman
me, Sven. Maybe you should listen to her more, and now that we've got that cleared up, really leave!"

No way!

"No."

She growled in that devilishly sexy way again, and he did the only thing he could do. He covered the short distance between them and shut her protest up with his mouth.

****

One minute, he stood watching her, the next, he'd grabbed her and pinned her against him. His mouth firmly clamped on hers, he muffled her shriek of surprise.
Oh hell.

Heat suffused her instantly. Her moan allowed him access, and with a groan of his own, his tongue found hers whilst he grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms high above her head. The action pushed her breasts flat into his chest, and he ground his
rock-hard erection into her lower belly. Sylvia lost all sense of time, and she gave herself up to the sensation of being held, as her own tongue dueled with his in a passionate kiss that seemed to go on forever. Her whole body enveloped in his hard warmth, that clever tongue of his teased and suckled. He explored every crevice of her mouth with increasing thoroughness, withdrawing just enough for Sylvia to gasp some much needed oxygen, before he claimed her again. The initial urgency was now replaced by a gentle adoration that made her wish he would never let her go.

When he finally released her with one last gentle nip of teeth on her bottom lip, his breathing was as harsh as her own. The muffled curse he uttered into her hair mirrored her own feelings exactly.

"Bloody hell, woman, what a kiss."

No shit, Sherlock.

He pulled away from her with a rueful smile, and his thumb swiped across her bottom lip. Those amazing eyes of his, the deepest blue she'd ever seen them.

"If your kids weren't upstairs, nothing would stop me from making you scream."

Oh God.
If he wasn't still holding on to her, she was sure she'd have just slid to the floor at those growled words.

"You okay?"

Was she okay? The man had just kissed her senseless, and he wanted to know whether she was okay? Sylvia couldn't help the hysterical bubble of laughter that escaped, and she shook her head, pushed against his chest, and locked her knees.

"No, I'm
not
okay. Don't you dare kiss me like that again unless you have the intention on following through."

His answering smile was pure sin itself.

"We have ourselves a deal, lady. Now, tell me about Harry."

Chapter Five

"Sven, I do
not
want to see Mum back here before Monday morning when I have to be back at college." With those ominous words, Alicia all but shoved her mum out of the front door and handed a chuckling Sven an overnight suitcase.

"Ohh, going away then, Sylvia? Have fun. I know
I
would if I were taking a trip with
him
. Yum yum." Her neighbor's voice carried across Sylvia’s front garden.

Oh, for goodness sakes, could this get any more embarrassing? Where was the magic hole to fall into when you needed it? As if she wasn't nervous enough about bringing Sven to Peggy's dinner. Now, her nosy and slightly loopy, though kind, neighbor witnessed her being handed over to him like some parcel.

"Hello, Mrs. Robinson, how are you today? Got that new story plotted out yet?" Alicia's cheery greeting set Sylvia's cheeks on fire. Oh, good God!

"So kind of you to ask, Alicia. I'm getting there
, and, thanks to handsome here, I've just found my perfect inspiration for the hero."

"Hero?" Sven asked. He looked from Alicia to the beaming older woman with a slightly puzzled expression before his eyes sought hers, and Sylvia took pity on him.

"Jo writes male erotica, and her books are very popular."

Her neighbor's smile broadened at Sven's amused laugh.

"Really? What interesting neighbors you have, Sylvia. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Robinson, and, if I do make it into one your books, I'll expect a copy in return."

"Naturally … handsome. Now, you go and show our Sylvia here a good time, and don't do anything I wouldn't."

With a wink, she mercifully disappeared up her garden path.

Really, what next?
Sylvia was uncomfortably aware of the amount of curtain twitching going on. She forgot about the army of ants that had started to march under her skin the minute the doorbell announced Sven's arrival, so immediate was the need to get off the doorstep and retreat from view. As if he'd sensed her agitation, Sven's hand settled on the small of her back. Instant heat flared up at his touch through the sheer material of her silk dress, and he guided her to the sleek Jaguar where his driver was patiently waiting for them.

"Don't worry, Mum. Timmy will not have time to miss you. Rubes and I have the weekend all planned out. Just enjoy yourself and let him get Aunt Peg. Shame I can't be a fly on the wall." And with one last hug from her eldest Sylvia
sank into the plush interior of the luxury car, grateful for the blacked-out windows that hid her from the neighbors.

Sliding in into the seat next to her, Sven gave her renewed palpitations, as the back seat seemed to shrink in on itself. Did he have to sit so close? His scent assaulted her and threatened to send her into cardiac failure. The sleek interior seemed devoid of oxygen. What on earth was she doing? Why had she ever thought this was a good idea? Bringing him to Peggy's was akin to suicide, and, as for spending the weekend with him, her heart would never survive it.

Sven gave quiet instructions to his driver.

"Let's get out of here, George. We've given them enough to gape at."

He took her hand, interlinking their fingers, and she drew a shuddering breath into her lungs.

"Why so nervous,
älskling?
It's only a dinner."

****

Sylvia's heartbeat raced under his fingertips, and he tightened his hold on her hand automatically. But then she snatched it away and scooted as far away from him as she could.

"This is a mistake, Sven. It'll never work. I appreciate your offer of help, but I never should have agreed to it.  Peggy will not even let you in the house, I'm sure, and Harry isn't your problem, he's mine."

"That's where you're wrong. I told you yesterday, Harry is very much my problem. I take great issue to men forcing themselves on women." 
Especially when the woman is mine
, he added mentally, and forced his clenched hands to relax. She was nervous enough without him displaying his famous temper. He would save that for Harry.

When he'd brought the subject up the day before, Sylvia had turned into a nervous wreck in front of him, once again making him wonder what on earth was going on. He'd eventually got her to admit that Harry had been hounding her with marriage proposals, urged on by her sister–in-law and seemed to think that Sylvia's refusal so far was just coyness on her part. He clearly didn't know her at all, if he thought that. His little firecracker most certainly knew what she wanted, and, whilst Sven was not averse to using some gentle persuasion, he would never force himself on a woman when he was so clearly not wanted
, regardless of what had been reported about him in the papers. It went against anything he'd ever been taught in the lifestyle, not that she knew about that yet, and he wasn't at all sure it would be wise to reveal that side of him any time soon. At least Sylvia had experience in the lifestyle. It no doubt explained why he'd been so drawn to her, from the get-go. Whether he could trust her enough to reveal that side of him remained to be seen.

As it was, the latest kiss-and-tell shamble six months ago had seen his reputation in the business hit rock bottom, and he'd not had any decent script offers since. Whilst the paper had been forced to print a full apology, mud stuck, and he stood no chance of getting the backing for the film he wanted, no
, he fucking needed to shoot, damn it. He owed his family that much. Seeing Sylvia worry her bottom lip with her teeth, her arms wrapped protectively around herself as she reiterated over and over that she was never getting married again, had sent all his protective instincts into hyper alert. Clearly all had not been well in Sylvia's marriage to the much older Richard, and he had to force himself to not let her see the potent fury at what he was imagining. No fucking way was he going to let her enter the lion's den on her own.

"He's not forcing himself on anyone, Sven, he's just…"

Her whispered words brought him back to the present. Sylvia was looking at him warily. Her eyes searched his face. The single worry line between her brows made him wonder how much of those latest thoughts had been mirrored on his face. He forced a smile on his lips.

"Just what? He is not taking no for an answer, is he? Which makes him a jerk. I told you, you'll have in me the image of the doting boyfriend, and, if that doesn't work to make the man back off, well…"

He let the words trail off, a sneer on his face, as he imagined how satisfying it would be to plant a fist in the man's face.

"And that would make you as bad as him, Sven. Sheesh, what is it with you men, thinking violence is the answer to everything?"

A heavy silence descended between them, as Sylvia shrank in on herself again. His gut churned at what he read in those tortured eyes of hers for just a second before she resolutely stared out of the window, her hands clenched in her lap.

"Not the answer to everything, no
. That would be sex, lady."

Relief washed over him, when the color returned to her cheeks.

"You would say that."

"Don't knock it until you've tried it
, baby, at least not with me."

The feminine sound of strangled exasperation made all his blood rush south. Six months without sex had clearly robbed him of the ability to control his body, making him feel like a horny teenager. At least there was some small satisfaction in the way her breathing sped up, and a slow blush spread across her exposed cleavage. He wasn't the only one feeling the heat.

"Step on it, George, will you?"

The sooner they got this dinner over with, the sooner he could work on getting her out of his system.

****

Stood on Peggy's door step Sven stared down at five fo
ot nothing of starched elegance that was Sylvia's sister-in-law. The polite smile on her face didn't reach her eyes, and those silver-grey orbs narrowed when she opened the door, and Sylvia tensed against him. Peggy's gaze travelled upwards, and her mouth formed a silent O.

"I, well … Sylvia, you really should have said you were bringing … um … company."

She looked positively flustered for all of a nanosecond. Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline, when he pulled Sylvia a bit closer into his frame. He dropped a kiss onto the one exposed shoulder he'd been itching to kiss since he'd first seen her in the elegantly sexy dress. The vibrant color brought out the blue in her eyes and hinted at the luscious curves hiding underneath. His gaze settled on Peggy's in a quiet challenge, and, against Sylvia's dire predictions, she stepped aside, and gestured them in.

"You better come in. Edward, Henry, Sylvia is
finally
here. Perhaps I'll be able to rescue dinner after all."

"I'm sorry we're late
, Peggy. It's —"

"Entirely my fault of course," Sven interrupted, giving Sylvia's waist another reassuring squeeze. "Please forgive my tardiness, but my driver was delayed, and then I had to play a game of football with Timmy, of course, and you know how it is."

"Timmy?" Peggy echoed, looking from him to Sylvia.

"Yes, surely you're familiar with your nephew. You know, this high … little dynamo with a very hard head?"

Sylvia's strangled laugh made his own lips twitch, and they shared an amused look, before the arrival of Peggy's husband and a man whom he presumed must be Harry broke the moment. Sven's own eyes narrowed taking in the competition. Harry had to be in his late fifties, if the receding grey hair was anything to go by. Deep brown eyes met his for an instant, before the man forced his lips into a smile, dismissing Sven as easily as the imaginary speck of dust on his immaculate business suit. Sylvia and
this
? Over his dead body. The surge of jealousy at the thought of the man's pudgy hands on her made him clench his jaw so tight, his teeth ground together. Sylvia's startled glance up at him forced a smile on his face, and he turned his attention back to Peggy.

"Of course, I'm familiar with Timothy, but I fail to see what is so amusing." Peggy frowned at him.

"Never mind, just a private joke between lovers.”

Peggy drew herself up even more starchly if that was possible, and fixed him with a look of contempt before she turned round to the men behind her.

"This is my husband Edward, and this is Harry. He's a
very
good friend of Sylvia's, soon to be much more, isn't that right, Sylvia?"

"Peggy, don't start, for God's sake." Sylvia groaned.

Harry watched the byplay with a condescending smile. Sven felt the tension in Sylvia's body all the way down to his toes, and he had to force himself to not growl the next words.

"We'll see about that, won't we?" he said
, and keeping one hand firmly on Sylvia's waist, he extended his hand.

"Sven Larsson."

"Oh, we all know who you are. And what you are. As does half the country. Sylvia never had much sense in the men she chose."

Fucking great
. Sylvia might not read the papers, but her sister-in-law clearly did, as did Harry, if the superior look on his face was anything to go by.

Peggy fixed him with another of her stares, ignoring her husband's low exclamation, but before he could respond, Sylvia surprised them all.

"Of course, one of those unsuitable men was your brother, Peggy, or have you conveniently forgotten that? I invited Sven, and if you're just going to insult him, then we're going now, and you can stuff your dinner."

"Now, that really would not be wise, Sylvia. Need I remind you of your situation?"

"Okay, enough, we are forgetting our hospitality, Peggy," Edward interrupted. “You will make Mr. Larsson think that we English are unwelcoming."

Sven dropped another kiss on Sylvia's neck this time. He had to suppress a laugh at the outrage that poured off Peggy. Harry’s narrow-eyed perusal left him quietly seething, however. He stared the man down, his temper simmering under his society smile, and Peggy, conceding defeat for now, ushered them all into the dining room.

Conversation was stilted and polite to the extreme over the course of the roast dinner, which Sylvia hardly touched. They discussed the weather, of course, and then the conversation turned to the latest stock prices.

Sylvia shared many an eye
-roll across the table with Sven, until Peggy's declaration that it was time for dessert. Sylvia mouthed a silent “sorry” at him, and she reluctantly joined her sister-in-law. He chuckled at the instant blush on her face when he blew a kiss at her with a wink. He hoped that would take her mind off the tongue lashing his little firecracker would no doubt have to endure in the kitchen. All he had to do was stop himself from wiping off that superior grin from the men's face across from him.

Tension hung in the air like a heavy cloak
, now that the women had left. The last of the day's rays bathed Peggy's dining room in an eerie glow, and illuminated the men sat around the table.

Oh, they were all English politeness to a fault, but he wasn't an actor for nothing.  Edward seemed harmless enough, if completely under his wife's thumb, but Harry made his skin crawl. Sylvia's
, too, if her forced smiles all through dinner had been anything to go by.