leave a better impression on Mason than that she’d arrived with.
The rain had soaked through her hair and ran in rivulets beneath the collar of her jacket, sending trickling shivers of discomfort down her spine. She mentally squared her shoulders and focussed on what she had to do. She slipped on the glasses and earmuffs and went back outside.
It was more difficult than she’d expected to clear the branches off to the side, especially in a suit and shoes better suited to a cocktail party than a logging operation.
Mason’s eyes burned a hole through her back more than once as she staggered with another branch across the driveway. Through the earmuffs the softened roar of the saw bounced between the bank and the side of the house until Helena’s head felt as if it was vibrating in unison with the noise. She pressed fingers, sticky with pine resin, over her earmuffs to seal off any gaps as Mason battled a particularly knotted piece of wood. He wielded the chain saw as if it was second nature to him, but then that’s pretty much the way she’d noticed he managed everything in his life. A total perfectionist in whatever he did.
Any other day of the week Helena would have turned tail and left. The discomfort, the noise and the incessant rain would individually have been enough to persuade her to find sanctuary elsewhere. But she couldn’t stop. She had to prove she was worth listening to and not, as Mason so clearly thought, just some grasping bimbo out to find her next sugar daddy. She bent to pick up the branch he’d finally worked free and jumped when Mason leaned forward and pulled one of the earmuffs away from the side of her head.
“Ready to give up yet?”
She looked up, raking his face for any clue that she’d satisfied him she wasn’t just some pretty thing looking for an easy ride, but his features remained unreadable except for the flicker of heat in his eyes when they dropped to the gaping neckline of her jacket.
“Are you finished yet?” she countered, not daring to move.
Slowly, his eyes trailed back up to her face. “Not yet.” His pupils dilated slightly.
Helena felt a brief surge of power. He might act as if he hated her, but he wasn’t unaffected by her. At least not as much as he tried to portray. That telltale flare in his eyes had given her more control than she’d dreamed. “Well, then, I’m not finished either.”
Despite all the activity, the cold evening air and her wet clothes combined to send a deep chill into her bones. She shivered as she bent to pick up one of the slices of the trunk. Mason reached out to stop her.
“What?” She stood up and put her hands on her hips.
“Go inside, you’re wet through.”
“It’s okay, I can manage,” she replied through gritted teeth, bending at the knees to get closer to the richly scented disk of wood.
Mason stood and watched her as she hefted up the piece. Holding it close to her body, she lurched over to where she’d stacked the cut branches. Then, he set to finishing off the remainder of the tree, although she noticed that he cut the slices narrower to make her job a little easier. Eventually he was done and, scooping up three disks to her miserable one each time, they finished clearing the driveway.
“What about that bit?” Helena gestured toward the tip of the tree that had tangled in and brought down the phone line.
“I’ll leave that for the phone guys. C’mon.” He gestured toward the garage.
Helena hesitated a moment in the rain, which hadn’t let up even the tiniest bit as they’d worked to clear the tree, then followed him back inside. She fought to combat the shivers that now cascaded through her body. The last time she’d come close to feeling this cold she’d been with him, too. Only then the outcome had been vastly different to today. She resolutely pushed away the memory of that night, of the lover who was as far removed from this aloof creature as a person could be.
From beside the passenger door of the truck she watched as he grabbed a rag from the cupboard to wipe down the chain saw and put everything away. She lifted a foot to the running board to climb back into the vehicle when warm hands slipped around her waist and lifted her back down. He only touched her for a moment yet it was enough to send a fire coursing through her body, radiating out from where his hands had rested against her sodden clothing. Fire blended with a bit of something else—something she couldn’t afford to acknowledge or identify.
“Forget the road trip tonight.”
“You mean it?” Relief coursed through her. The prospect of sitting in cold wet clothing even for the relatively short trip to Whitianga was anathema to her.
“I don’t say what I don’t mean. Clearing this mess took longer than I expected and we’re both soaked through. By the time we get dried out it’ll be too late for you to check in anywhere around here. I’ll get you some dry things. You can stay in one of the guest rooms.”
He sounded as though he’d rather endure a root canal without anaesthetic. Even so, Helena tried to say thank-you but he was already walking away from her. She followed him down the native-timber parquet floor hall to a separate wing of the house that she hadn’t noticed on her arrival. He flung open a door at the end of the passage and walked through to another door that led into a large champagne-coloured marble bathroom and snapped on the faucet in the shower. Steam slowly started to fill the room.
“Don’t lock the door,” he said as he left her. “I’ll find something for you to wear and drop it inside.”
Helena could barely respond. The lure of warm running water called to her from the shower stall. With cold, stiffened fingers she tried to undo the buttons on the front of her jacket but they just wouldn’t cooperate.
“Here, let me.”
Warm hands brushed her fingers aside. She shivered as Mason deftly undid the buttons and peeled the tailored jacket from her body. Underneath, her simple black silk camisole clung to her skin, shamelessly exposing the fact she wore no bra. Under his gaze her nipples hardened and pressed against the dark silk. A flush of embarrassment flooded her cheeks.
“I’ll be all right from here,” she protested as he started to lift the hem of her camisole.
“You’re so frozen you can barely move. Be sensible, Helena. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”
His fingers brushed against her belly as he took hold of the bottom edge of her cami. The shiver that rippled through her body had nothing to do with cold—his touch scorched like a brand.
“Please, stop.” Helena pushed his hands away and stepped backward. “I’ll be fine from here. Truly.” Blindly, she reached for a towel and pulled it in front of her.
“Whatever you say.” He took a step back. “Come through to the living room when you’re finished. I’ll get the fire going and warm up something for us to eat.”
Helena nodded and watched as he left the bathroom. She let go of the breath she’d been holding and swiftly shimmied out of her skirt and peeled off her clinging wet pantyhose and undies. She released her hair from the army of clips that bound it then gratefully stepped beneath the cascade of warmth thundering in the shower. Sheer bliss. She quickly lathered herself up and rinsed off. The stinging needles of the spray invigorated her and although her fingers and toes still felt cold she felt much better. Hungry though. She towelled off her wet skin, and arranged her damp clothes on
