Alastair could respond, the front door opened and slammed, and she was gone. “Cherie!” he called out irritably.
She appeared in the doorway a moment later. “What is it?”
“Hannah’s going out with Jago Sullivan. I don’t want him dating my daughter. And why didn’t he come to the door?”
“Oh, Alastair…it’s not a proper date – they’re ‘hanging out’, according to Hannah.”
“Whatever it’s called, I don’t like it. He’s a stock boy, for God’s sake, with a bloody ring in his eyebrow.”
“If you make a fuss, she’ll only be more determined to see him.”
He sighed. “You’re right, of course. I’m getting too old for this.”
“She’ll be gone soon, and you’ll miss all this fuss.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Alastair grumbled, and resumed his seat. “I could do very nicely without it.”
Late Sunday afternoon, Natalie pushed away her bowl of spaghetti. “Jamie, that was amazing! Will you show me how to make the sauce?”
“Sure. It’s dead easy.” He held up the half-empty bottle of Barolo. “Another glass?”
“Careful,” Rhys warned Jamie as he topped up their glasses, “the last time Natalie had wine, she ended up in every tabloid in London. And she ruined my suit.”
“You got in the way. That wine was aimed at Dominic, not you,” she pointed out.
“I’d love to stay and listen to you two argue,” Jamie said as he stood, “but I promised mum I’d get her some sweets.” He clapped a baseball cap on his head. “What can I say, I’m a good son.”
“Bye, Jamie,” Rhys said as he pushed back his chair and stood up. “Don’t hurry back.”
“OK, I can take a hint. Laters.” He kissed Natalie’s cheek, thundered down the stairs, and left.
Natalie stood as well and eyed the dishes. “I like your brother. He’s much nicer than you.”
Rhys came to stand in front of her. “I’m nice, too, sometimes. When I want to be.”
“Really?” She tilted her head back to study him. “I haven’t seen that side of you, sorry.”
He reached out and wiped a bit of passata sauce from the corner of her mouth with his thumb. “Do you know the first thing that I realised about you?”
“What’s that?” she asked, her voice husky.
“That your aim with a wineglass is terrible.”
She caught her lip between her teeth. “Well, as it happens, I have talents in other areas…”
“Saving money isn’t one of them,” Rhys observed in a low voice as he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.
“No.” Electricity tingled through her at his touch.
“And you don’t maintain your car,” he added as his eyes met hers.
“No,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “But I did get the fuel pump replaced.”
“And you’ve a bad habit of leaving things till the last minute,” he murmured, and bracketed her face gently with his hands, “important things.”
“Important things?” she echoed, her eyes wide. “Like what?”
“Like this.”
His arms came around her and his mouth covered hers, and all thoughts of shirts and stains and fuel pumps fled. Desire thrummed through her with a sudden intensity that left her legs trembly and her thoughts scattered.
Rhys pressed her closer as he deepened the kiss.
Natalie clutched at his shirt, grabbing a handful of the soft cotton as desire, raw and sweet and powerful, overtook her.
She’d been kissed before, of course she had. But this? This was entirely different.
Every inch of her skin tingled and responded to his touch. The heat of his jeans-clad thighs against hers, the muscled length of his arms around her, his tongue seeking hers as they kissed – it set her thoughts whirling out of control. There was only his mouth on hers.
“Natalie,” he breathed against her lips, lowering his hands to cup the curves of her bottom, “I’ve wanted you ever since that night at Alastair’s party.”
“Have you?” She closed her eyes as his lips moved away from hers and sought out the sensitive skin behind her ear. “I thought you despised me. I thought…ooh, that’s nice…” She melted as he nibbled her earlobe.
“I thought you were incredibly spoilt—” his hands slid up her waist “—but also incredibly attractive.”
“I don’t know how you resisted me, then.”
“I had a very long, very cold shower when I got home,” he growled, and pressed her hard against the wall and kissed her again, more insistently.
Natalie was helpless to resist the onslaught of his tongue and hands and the hard, heated length of his body against hers. She wanted him with a strength that left her breathless with need.
As Rhys tore his mouth away and began impatiently to unbutton her blouse, Natalie’s mobile shrilled from her jeans pocket. She groaned as he kissed and licked his way down her neck. “Ignore it,” she gasped, “it’ll stop in a second.”
The ringing continued, insistent.
“Shit!” Natalie exclaimed, exasperated, and pulled away. “I forgot to forward it to voicemail, it’ll just keep ringing. Let me just turn it off—”
Rhys grunted something unintelligible and continued to leave heated kisses along her neck.
She pushed him reluctantly away and pulled out her mobile to shut it off. When she saw the call screen, she froze.
Ian Clarkson.
“I’ve got to take this,” she told Rhys, “it’s important,” and she clapped the mobile to her ear. “Hello?” Her voice was unsteady, her stomach a knot of dread.
“Natalie. I didn’t think you were going to answer.”
She gave Rhys an apologetic smile and murmured, “It’s only Caro. Sorry, won’t be a minute.”
He kissed the side of her mouth. “See that you’re not. And tell your sister I’m very put out with her right now.” He padded off to the sitting room to give her privacy.
“What is it?” she demanded
