took a half-step back and she almost wept, so intense was her relief to put a few more inches of air between them. She had to ask herself whether the problem lay with him or her... No, actually, she didn’t have to ask herself anything—and she wouldn’t.
Resurrecting a little defiance, albeit a slightly less focused version, she lifted a hand to her face and absently brushed a curl from her cheek. The braid in her hair was unravelling as fast as she was!
‘Do I have time to freshen up?’
His heavy-lidded gaze slid over the soft curves of her face, lingering a second or two too long on the plump fullness of her lips before he ventured a response. ‘You look fine to me, but if you need—’
Flustered by the way he was looking at her, she shook her head. ‘No. I’m fine.’
He watched through his half-lowered lids as she tweaked the baby’s cap, even though it didn’t need tweaking. She looked, he decided, better than fine.
A lot better!
He recognised the compulsive element as his glance slid over her slim figure, but he didn’t have an appetite to fight it.
He liked looking at her. It was a weakness he was ready to admit to and looking at her was infinitely preferable to having her loose in his head, even if he had invited the invasion by revealing far too much. He still didn’t know what madness had possessed him to make him open up that way.
During the flight, while he’d renewed his acquaintance with the pilot, he’d tried and failed to analyse why she acted as some sort of catalyst to feelings he had buried—best thing for them—and failed.
He’d settled for a slightly unsatisfactory verdict: that it wouldn’t be happening again, but he could carry on looking.
And where was the harm?
Except to his blood pressure.
Today her hair was tied again, though in a looser plait affair that left curls trailing down her neck and around her face. She had opted to wear a shift dress with a swirly pattern of soft blues and greens that showed off her slim arms and incredible legs. Looking at the slim calves reminded him of the only other time he’d seen her legs. The memory of the sizzling tension of that night still retained enough residual heat to make his skin prickle and his gut tighten.
‘Are you going to accept some help?’
She straightened up gracefully and did the flip thing with her hair. Every time she did it he thought about unwinding that plait and spreading the hair... ‘Help,’ he exclaimed abruptly.
In response to her bemused expression, Ivo nodded at the stroller where Jamie was doing his impression of a perfect baby, kicking his legs and looking cute and smiley. ‘Do you want to negotiate the steps or...?’ He arched a satiric brow and added drily, ‘In case you were wondering, this is me discussing it with you.’
Flora decided to ignore the sarcasm. Instead she nodded to the two uniformed figures waiting to carry the buggy down the steps.
‘Thanks so much.’
Ivo watched the men melt as she smiled at them.
Behind her Flora heard Ivo swear; it was an impressive bilingual effort. She half turned to look at him as the men hoisted the buggy between them, a questioning frown painting furrows in her wide smooth brow.
‘What happened?’
‘It hasn’t yet—this is the first test.’
She lifted her face and quivered nervously. ‘Test?’ It had an ominous sound and brought back the terrible weeks of revision before her finals, then the elation of passing before she’d realised that exams were only the first step. Next came experience.
She’d been lucky and got a job offer after her first interview, a firm based in Edinburgh but with their heart and much of their work in the Highlands, domestic and commercial.
She’d joined a team of young and enthusiastic architects with innovative ideas for affordable but aesthetically pleasing homes in the Highlands.
She had seen her future as mapped out and then... Well, it just went to show that you should live in the moment. She had walked away from her dream job and did she regret it? She looked at the crumpled sleep suit in her hand and lifted her chin. Not for one second did she regret her choice.
‘We are in love, remember.’
The soft words jolted her back to the moment with a thud. She dropped the sleep suit, gulped and tried to match his insouciant tone. ‘I didn’t think you’d care what the help thinks, and you’ve already told me that your grandfather doesn’t believe in love...or is that you? You know, a person could be forgiven for thinking the brooding Latin lover doth protest too much.’
‘I’m not your lover.’ The blush she had held at bay couldn’t withstand this provocation or the dark chocolate, velvety voice. ‘As for the help, just don’t smile at them the way you did those two.’
‘Smile?’ She shook her head, bemused by his comment. ‘I don’t...’ Her voice faded as he took her arm and propelled her towards the open doors and onto the metal platform in the open air. ‘My jacket!’ she protested.
She didn’t need it. The heat after the air-conditioned atmosphere of the flight hit her. She lifted her hand to shade her eyes against the sun. The men carrying the buggy were on the tarmac waiting; so were several other people. Oh, hell, she realised, a reception committee! All it lacked was a brass band and some sexy baton-twirlers.
This was more awful than any of the scenarios she had dreamt of.
‘I’d assumed low profile,’ he hissed through clenched teeth.
She felt his low chuckle, low heartless chuckle, and then his fingers tightened around her shoulder in warning, as though he had expected her to turn and run back into the plane. Serve him right if I did, she thought viciously.
‘You might have warned me there would be...’
She had half turned and was tilting her head back when his hand moved from her shoulder to the back of her head, his long fingers curling into her hair and his thumb coming to rest on the angle of her jaw, making her forget what she was about to say.
He bent forward, the gleam of intent in his dark eyes telling her what was about to happen a split second before it did.
He was going to kiss her.
Then he did, and she stopped thinking.
His mouth was warm, his kiss managed to be slow and sensitive and yet possessive, a statement saying, ‘She’s mine,’ to anyone watching.
Flora wasn’t watching, she was feeling. It was as if her nerve endings had been exposed as she fell bonelessly into the kiss and him; resisting never even crossed her mind.
The hot stream of desire coursing like wine though her body was both terrifying and the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her.
His arms were like steel, holding her close, moulding her to his hard body, very hard. Knowing
