guess.’
She stared at him. ‘Your father’s hoping you’ll take over the family business at some point, isn’t he?’
‘That was never on the cards.’ He opened the door, standing aside so she preceded him into the wide square hall. The old floorboards had been lovingly restored and varnished, their mellow tones reflected in the honey-coloured walls adorned with the odd print or two. ‘I agreed to come and help my father over the next couple of years, partly to ease him into letting go of the strings and making it easier to sell when the time comes, but that’s all.’
‘I see.’ She didn’t, but it was none of her business. ‘So, you’ll go back to the States at some point?’
Again he shrugged. ‘The States, Germany, perhaps even Australia. I’m not sure. I invested a good deal of the money I’ve earned over the last years, played the stock exchange and so on. I don’t actually need to work, but I will. I like a challenge.’
It was the most he had ever said about himself, and Gina longed to ask more, but a closed look had come over his face. Changing the subject, she said, ‘Everything looks extremely clean and dust free. Do you have a cleaner come in?’
‘Are you saying men can’t clean for themselves? That’s a trifle sexist, isn’t it?’ He grinned at her, leading the way to what proved to be the sitting room, and he opened the door into a large room dominated by a magnificent open fireplace, the wooden floors scattered with fine rugs, and the sofas and chairs soft and plumpy. ‘You’re right, though,’ he admitted unrepentantly. ‘Mrs Rothman comes in three days a week, and does everything from changing the lightbulbs to washing and ironing. She’s a treasure.’
‘And preparing your meals?’ she asked as he waved her to a seat.
‘Not at all. I’m a great cook, if I do say so myself, and I prefer to eat what I want when I want to eat it. Glass of wine while you wait?’ he added. ‘Red or white?’
‘Red, please.’ She glanced at the fireplace as he disappeared, presumably to the kitchen. There were the remains of a fire in the fireplace, and plenty of logs were stacked in the ample confines of the hearth. She pictured him sitting here in the evenings, sipping a glass of wine maybe, while he stared into the flickering flames. The wrench her heart gave warned her to keep her thoughts in check. And she wasn’t going to dwell on the likelihood of the blonde of the moment stretched out on a rug in front of the fire, either, with Harry pampering and pleasing her.
‘One glass of wine.’
Gina was brought out of her mental agony as Harry reappeared, an enormous half-full glass of deep-red wine in one hand. She took it with a doubtful smile. There must have been half a bottle in there, and she’d been too het up to eat any of the extensive nibbles earlier, or much lunch, for that matter.
‘I won’t be long. There’s some magazines there—’ he gestured towards one of the occasional tables dotted about the room ‘—and some nuts and olives alongside them. Help yourself.’
‘Thank you.’ As soon as he’d left again, she scuttled across and made short work of half the bowl of nuts, deciding she’d worry about the calories tomorrow. Tonight she needed to be sober and in full charge of her senses. One slip, one look, and he might guess how she felt about him, and then she’d die. She would, she’d die. Or have to go on living with the knowledge she’d betrayed herself, and that would be worse.
She retrieved her glass of wine and sipped at it as she wandered about the room. Rich, dark and fruity, it was gorgeous. Like Harry. Although he had never been fruity with her, more was the pity.
She glanced at herself in the huge antique mirror over the fireplace. The mellow lighting in the room made her hair appear more golden than anything else, and blended the pale ginger freckles that covered her creamy skin from head to foot into an overall honey glow. It couldn’t do anything for her small snub nose and nondescript features, however. She frowned at her reflection, her blue eyes dark with irritation. This was the reason Harry had never come on to her. She was the epitome of the girl next door, when she longed to be a femme fatale: tall, slim, elegant—not busty and hippy. Even her mother had to admit she was ‘nicely rounded’, which meant—in the terms the rest of the world would use—she was on the plump side.
After staring at herself for a full minute, she walked over to the window and looked out over the grounds at the back of the cottage while she finished her glass of wine. She needed something to give her dutch courage for the evening, considering Harry was accompanying a creature not far removed from the Hunchback of Nôtre Dame.
‘You can’t see much tonight.’
He must have crept into the room, because she hadn’t heard him coming. Gina was glad there was no wine in the glass, because with the jump she gave as he came up behind her it would have been all down her dress. He continued to stand behind her, his hands loosely on her waist, as he said, ‘To the left beyond that big chestnut tree there’s a swimming pool, but it’s too dark to see it, and a tennis court. Are you sporty?’
Sporty? She didn’t know what she was with him holding her like this. Dredging up what was left of her thought process, she managed to mumble, ‘I swim a bit.’ She didn’t add that she hadn’t played tennis for years, because whatever sports bra she bought it still didn’t seem to stop her breasts bobbing about like crazy. Too much information, for sure.
‘You’ll have to come and have a swim in the summer, if you’re up this neck of the woods.’
That so wasn’t an option. ‘That’d be great.’
‘If you’re ready, we’ll make a move.’
When he let go of her, she felt wildly relieved and hopelessly bereft. When she turned to face him it didn’t help her shaky equilibrium one bit. He’d obviously had a quick shower along with changing, and his ebony hair was still damp and slightly tousled. Suddenly he appeared vastly different from the immaculately finished product during working hours, and the open-necked black shirt and casual black trousers he was wearing added to the transformation. In the designer suits, shirts and ties he favoured in the office, he was breathtakingly gorgeous. Now he was a walking sex-machine, with enough magnetism to cause a disturbance in the earth’s orbit.
Controlling a rush of love so powerful she was amazed it didn’t show, Gina handed him her empty glass and walked over to the sofa, where her handbag and jacket were, saying over her shoulder, ‘This is very good of you, Harry. There was nothing more exciting than beans on toast waiting for me at the flat.’
‘My pleasure.’
No, hers, given the merest encouragement, Gina thought wryly. She had never been tempted to go all the way with any of her boyfriends in the past, and had even begun to wonder if there was something wrong with her. Harry’s entrance into her life had put paid to that. She only had to think about him to get embarrassingly aroused. If he ever actually made love to her…
He took her jacket from her, helping her into it with a warm smile. She was everlastingly thankful he couldn’t read her mind. Taking a deep breath, she walked briskly out of the room.
CHAPTER TWO
WHY had he done this? Why had he invited her out to dinner tonight? He hadn’t intended to. He’d meant their goodbye to be friendly, swift and final, and definitely with a third party present.
As
