had to shave twice a day too, she realised, noticing the shadow across his jaw. She was gripped by a sudden and frighteningly strong urge to sink her fingers into his lush dark hair.
‘This is silly,’ she breathed with a frown.
‘And dangerous,’ he agreed drily.
Hope stared in a dazed fashion into his eyes. As she watched, the pupil expanded until it almost met the dark rim that surrounded his grey iris. Her eyes slid slowly to his mouth…she licked her dry lips nervously. It ought to be illegal for one man to have this much earthy sex appeal.
‘You too?’ She was amazed he’d replied to her soft self-recrimination.
The lines bracketing his strong mouth deepened as he smiled a little grimly in response. His expression remained enigmatic. She instinctively recognised that he wasn’t the sort of person who permitted his emotions to rise close to the surface.
‘Your halo’s crooked.’ He inclined his head towards her corn-coloured hair.
The puzzlement vanished from her face as her fingers touched the coronet of dried rosebuds that was wound into the Pre-Raphaelite curls her hair had been teased into. The tiny village church had been lovingly decorated with garlands of the same pink roses, bound together with lichen and rosemary on a base of rich, rosy velvet.
‘It was a lovely service,’ she remarked dreamily. ‘Lindy looked beautiful.’
‘I suppose she did.’
‘Suppose!’ she echoed indignantly.
‘I was looking at you. You looked like a glowing Botticelli angel.’
This was unexpected enough to take her breath away. He wasn’t the sort of man she would have associated with flowery compliments. ‘I’m no angel.’
‘No,’ he agreed in that slow, deliberate manner of his. ‘That would be boring. I can’t abide being bored, even by an angel.’
‘Looks don’t compensate for lack of character, then?’
‘You’ve got both.’ He spoke calmly, as if he were simply stating the obvious.
‘Some people take convincing.’
‘I’m a quick learner.’
‘Talking to you makes a person dizzy,’ she gasped. ‘Are you always so personal?’
‘I’ll do the weather and the economy if you prefer.’
‘How about what a lovely wedding it was?’
‘I don’t like weddings, but, as such occasions go, this wasn’t too bad. Tell me, how did you manage to keep the affair secret? I thought when the likes of Sam Rourke married, the press from every continent would be camped on the doorstep.’
‘Sam’s very good at laying false trails,’ she said, smiling affectionately when she thought of her new brother-in-law. Sam was an actor of international repute, and millions of women would shed a tear, or several, when they learned he’d married. ‘Also, the invitations weren’t sent out until Wednesday, and they listed the groom as “Patrick S. Rourke,” which happens to be his other name. I’m surprised a busy man like you could drop everything and come at such short notice.’
‘I had nothing else planned. I got back from Saudi yesterday. It was good of your parents to invite me.’ He didn’t add he’d had every intention of putting in the briefest of appearances.
‘You weathered the recession, then?’ Alex Matheson’s firm built distinctive handmade cars. The unapologetically nostalgic lines of the sports cars were instantly recognisable and they were much sought after.
‘Happily, yes.’ He could afford to be confident; there was a five-year waiting list for each of the three models they produced. ‘And how long are you home for, Hope?’
It could be the quiet, firm responses of the couple in the church had softened his brain. Better for them both if she was off to some exotic fashion shoot before they responded to this attraction. Whichever way you looked at it, Hope Lacey was too young for him, Alex reflected.
He’d half expected to be disillusioned when he spoke to her. If he was honest, he’d wanted to be. A healthy dose of reality had seemed the perfect cure for the fascination that had hit him the instant she’d walked into the church. Far from curing him, he found the reality attractive; she was surprisingly natural and mature. Warm, funny— He pulled himself up short. The list could get tiresomely long.
‘I’m at home for the next month.’
Fate wasn’t going to do him any favours! Alex noted the small, smug smile that curved her beautiful lips. Well, she had every right to be confident about her ability to bewitch a man, he silently conceded.
‘Resting?’ One winged dark brow rose teasingly.
‘Well, it’s always a temptation to do everything you’re offered, but you reach the point when you realise there isn’t much point burning out just to bank every available dollar. I’m a bit more discriminating these days.’
‘You can afford to be.’
Hope didn’t dispute this. Modelling had made her financially secure. ‘I’ve been lucky and I work hard. This film might be a new start for me.’ It was a month since she’d finished the round of TV and radio chat shows to promote the film. She was excited and apprehensive about the American premiere soon.
‘You play opposite Sam Rourke?’
Hope nodded. ‘I introduced Lindy to him, so if anything goes wrong in Eden they’ll blame me, no doubt. Come on, let’s get some champagne before it’s all gone.’ She touched his arm lightly and he followed her into the kitchen.
‘Hope, dear, there you are.’ Beth Lacey, her hands deep in a sink of soapy water, smiled at her daughter. ‘Hello, Alex. I hope you’re having a good time?’
‘I’m being well looked after.’
‘Do you mind washing a few glasses for me, Hope? We had a major breakage. I should really remind Lindy she ought to be getting changed.’
‘Sure, off you go, Mum.’
Hope tied an incongruous striped apron over her bridesmaid dress. ‘The spare bubbly’s in the dairy,’ she told Alex. ‘Third door along,’ she added, inclining her head towards the passageway behind him. She immersed her hands in the water and gave a sigh. ‘Why is it your nose always itches when you haven’t got a spare hand?’ she complained.
‘Let me,’ he offered. Before Hope realised what he was about to do Alex leant over and rubbed the tip of her straight nose, which fell somewhere in between the cute and aquiline categories. ‘Better?’
Hope gave a hoarse grunt of assent. I’m staring so hard I’m probably cross-eyed, she decided ruefully. He smells awfully good…she appreciatively breathed in the spicy, faintly lemony scent of his cologne mingled with the musky, masculine odour of his warm body. If she could distil what this man did to her quivering stomach muscles, she’d be a very rich alchemist. Yes, alchemy
