‘Great.’ He settled back against the billowy sofa with every appearance of relaxed enjoyment. ‘And make the cake a big slice, would you? I’m starving.’
Cheeky hound. Blossom smiled frostily. Utterly sure of himself and arrogant with it—just the sort of male she’d walk a mile to avoid. Still, she’d offered seconds now.
Once in the kitchen she made the coffee and cut a generous wedge of cake—not that the other slice had been small, she thought grimly. She looked at the half of cake remaining in the tin, and for a moment was tempted to put that on his plate rather than the slice she’d cut. She resisted. Less because he was Greg’s boss and more because he’d probably eat it quite happily, remaining oblivious to any sarcasm. Giant ego.
Walking through to the sitting room, she silently handed him the plate and mug, deciding the cool, non-speaking approach was the quickest way to get rid of him. No more repartee.
‘Thanks.’ He took the cake with boyish enthusiasm. ‘Your sister is some cook. She didn’t strike me as the sort of woman who would bake her own cake when I met her at Christmas.’
The work do. Blossom had babysat on that occasion too, and she remembered Melissa had looked like every man’s fantasy with bells on in the draped-silk jersey dress with plunging neckline she had worn. Talk about stereotyping! Blossom eyed him severely. ‘My sister is extremely domesticated,’ she said coolly. ‘All Melissa ever wanted from when she was a child was to be a wife and mother, and she does both extremely well.’
‘And you disapprove of that?’ he asked evenly.
‘No, I do not.’ Coolness went out of the window and she glared at him. ‘Of course I don’t. Everyone, man and woman, should follow their own path. We’ve chosen very different ones, that’s all. I wouldn’t dream of expecting Melissa to want what I want. We respect each other as individuals.’
‘Greg’s crazy about her, isn’t he?’
‘She’s crazy about him.’
Zak’s nod was thoughtful. ‘He’s something of a mad professor, but brilliant, quite brilliant. I can see it would suit him to have someone to look after him.’
She couldn’t imagine Zak wanting to be looked after. Blossom sipped at her now-cool coffee as she watched him eat the second slice of cake. It was gone in a few big bites. He ate with relish; she could imagine he was a man who tackled every area of his life with the same unabashed gusto. Something in the pit of her stomach curled, and she lowered her eyes to her empty mug. When she raised them, Zak was looking straight at her.
‘You’re clearly wiped out, I’d better be going,’ he said softly. He stood to his feet. ‘Thanks for the coffee and cake.’
Flustered, Blossom rose a moment later, furious that her cheeks had turned pink when there was no logical reason for it. ‘I’ll let Greg know you called by when he comes home.’
‘Tell him I won’t expect him in until Melissa’s home and feeling herself again while you’re at it,’ he said lazily as she led the way to the front door. ‘There is nothing brewing in the pipeline that can’t keep for a week or two.’
‘Right.’ She nodded. She felt ridiculously out of her depth. What was it about this man that made her feel she’d regressed to the painful teenage years, when she’d been gawky, awkward and tongue-tied? Whatever it was, she could do without it. She opened the front door and stood aside for him to exit the house. Instead he stopped in front of her.
His eyes unfathomable, he murmured, ‘It’s been nice meeting you. Do I take it you’ll be sticking around for a day or two?’
It was a simple question, so why the agitation in her breast? ‘Until I’m not needed,’ she confirmed. ‘It’s the least I can do.’
‘That won’t prove difficult work-wise?’
She shook her head. ‘As luck would have it, I’ve just finished a pretty extensive spell of work and had promised myself a break.’
‘We might see each other again, then. If anything crops up I need to speak to Greg about.’ He smiled a slow smile.
He was the head of a major electronics firm and he was talking about face-to-face contact? Without pausing to consider how it sounded, she said, ‘Have you got Greg’s mobile number?’
He continued to regard her for another moment before his eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘Do I take that as a polite way of saying I wouldn’t be welcome?’ he asked mildly.
The pink in her cheeks had turned to a fiery red that would have rivalled a boiled lobster. Her embarrassment wasn’t helped by the fact that he seemed to find her amusing rather than offensive. ‘Of course not,’ she said tightly. ‘I was just checking you could contact him if you needed to, that’s all.’
‘Just checking.’ Two words, but they carried a huge amount of disbelief.
‘Absolutely.’ She stared straight back into the blue eyes.
‘Right.’ His tone had not changed. He held her gaze for one more eternal moment, and then stepped out of the house and walked towards a low-slung sportscar parked at the side of the pebbled front garden. It was a beauty, an Aston Martin, in a delicate shade of silver grey, gleaming in the summer twilight.
Blossom wondered why she hadn’t noticed it when he had arrived, and wouldn’t admit it was because she’d had eyes for nothing but him. She shut the front door, not waiting to see him drive away, and then stood leaning against it as she strained her ears. There was the sound of a car door shutting, the throb of a powerful engine and then the scrunchy noise of tyres on stone. He was leaving, so why was her heart still thudding?
It was only when all was quiet that she became aware she had been holding her breath. Letting it out in a great sigh, she straightened. That was that. He had gone. Undoubtedly with the impression that Melissa’s twin sister was a cold, hard and somewhat rude career woman without a romantic bone in the whole of her body.
‘And I’m not.’ She spoke aloud into the quiet, slumbering hall where the only sound was the steady ticking of the magnificent antique grandfather clock in the far corner. Was it her imagination, or was it staring at her with a reproachful look on its superior face?
Blossom stuck out her tongue in a manner which belied her thirty-four years, resolving to put Zak Hamilton and his possible opinion of her out of her mind. She had more than enough to cope with as it was in the forseeable future; the whirling dervish that was her nephew would be waking at the crack of dawn, if the weekend she’d babysat Melissa’s children before was anything to go by. And, once Harry was awake, the world had no choice but to follow.
She squared her shoulders, breathed in and out very deeply, and made her way into the sitting room to clear away the mugs and plates.
CHAPTER TWO
ANNOYINGLY, once Blossom was lying under the tastefully scented, crisp linen sheets in the generous double bed in Melissa’s guest room, sleep became an impossibility. She found herself embroiled in a minute-by-minute post-mortem of the whole day, right from when Greg had first called her.
The crazy dash to the house, Greg’s poor little wan face, the frantic pace that had ensued with the
