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His lips caressed her throat, her eyelids, the corners of her mouth, sweeping away caution and reason so that when he took her lips again she kissed him back. His mouth was urgent, hungry, and the taste, the delicious smell of him spun in her head. He moved slightly, moulding her into him so she fitted more comfortably into his hard frame, and she felt his strength, his desire against her softness.
The sound of a door opening downstairs brought them apart. As someone came out into the hall below and then began to climb the stairs, Zac took her arm, moving her along the landing as though they’d just left their room. He seemed totally unperturbed and in control, and to Rachel’s fevered senses it was like a sharp slap across the face.
She forced her mind into automatic so she could cope with returning the polite ‘Good evening’ the rosy-cheeked walker gave them as he passed at the top of the stairs, and then as she descended to the hall with Zac behind her, she clenched her teeth, breathing through her nose. This whole thing, their—what? flirtation, brief dalliance, game—meant little to Zac beyond a mild spot of intrigue to while away the spare hours while he was in England. His reaction to what she had considered the most mind-blowing experience of her life was proof of that. He hadn’t felt an iota of what she had.
Tears pricked at the back of her eyes and she blinked them away fiercely, angry at her weakness. She was not going to cry; she was not going to give him any inkling of what that kiss had done to her. This had been a timely reminder from her guardian angel that men were as different from women as chalk to cheese. A man’s emotions were all tied up with a certain part of his anatomy that—once satisfied—moved on to the next conquest. How many times did she have to learn the same lesson, for goodness’ sake? She was stupid, so stupid.
Rachel marched through to the pub lounge without looking behind her or waiting for Zac, pushing open the door and stepping into the noisy room with her head held high. Jennie and Susan would have recognised the attitude of bravado: they’d witnessed it many times in the aftermath of Giles’s betrayal. They would have understood that from childhood Rachel had become adept at disguising her feelings and that wearing her heart on her sleeve was alien to her. She walked over to the table by the fire the landlady had mentioned and sat down, Zac a step behind her. Looking up at him, she gave a brilliant smile. ‘This is nice.’ She held out her hands to the crackling flames.
His mouth quirked attractively. ‘You’re easily pleased.’
How right he was, but she wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Looking around him, she said, ‘The landlady’s waving two menus at us, I think she wants you to collect them. And I’ll have a glass of red wine while you’re there.’
There was a shadow of puzzlement in the golden eyes—he had clearly picked up that something had changed. He stared at her for a long moment, his smile dying, and then turned and went to the bar. She continued to look at him, her peripheral vision taking in the little stir he’d caused among the female component of the walkers.
Her mouth tightened. They were stuck here for tonight, that was as clear as the nose on her face, but come morning she would make it plain she had no intention of continuing to the house party. She wanted to go home. And he might be able to charm the birds out of the trees but tonight he was going to find himself with one girl who was well and truly immune to the great Zac Lawson. And he could put that little experience in his pipe and smoke it.
CHAPTER SIX
ZAC CAME BACK WITH A bottle of wine and two glasses, the menus tucked under one arm. After handing her a menu and pouring them both a glass of wine, he settled back in his chair and said expressionlessly, ‘OK, what have I done?’
She waited for two or three seconds before raising her eyes from the menu. ‘I’m sorry? I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You’re a different person suddenly.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. I think we need to order, don’t we? It’s late.’
‘Is it because I’ve messed up the weekend and we’re stuck here?’ he asked levelly. ‘Are you mad at me?’
Her chin tilted a fraction higher. ‘Of course not. And you haven’t messed up the weekend. Even you can’t control the weather. Now, we really do need to decide on food.’
He surveyed her silently for enough time for Rachel to squirm inwardly, but she was determined not to show any weakness. ‘Then it must be because I kissed you,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘We were OK before then. Did you assume I was preparing the ground for the full deployment when we go back to the room?’
Rather than him guess the truth, that would do. She took a sip of wine before she dared look him in the eyes. ‘Weren’t you?’ she challenged.
There was another long pause. ‘I don’t know,’ he said with a frown. ‘I kissed you because I wanted to, because I long to kiss or touch you every moment I’m with you, and if you want the truth I would very much like to sleep with you. I can’t help that, Rachel. I’m a man. However…’ There was a distinct pause. ‘I’m not an animal. I’ve never once taken a woman to bed who wasn’t one hundred per cent willing, so you have nothing to fear from me.’
She didn’t doubt he’d never had to cajole or manipulate a woman; there was probably a queue round the block of willing females ready to warm his bed. Coolly, she said, ‘I’ll have the steak and kidney pie with onion mash and seasonal vegetables,’ as she handed the menu back to him. ‘You order at the bar.’
‘I’m aware of that,’ he said, equally coolly.
She was behaving very badly. As she watched Zac talking to the landlady she suddenly felt very small and very alone in the crowded room. She’d bet she’d get no argument from him tomor
row about taking her home, he probably couldn’t wait to get rid of her. Her mouth drooped at the corners and her gaze turned inwards. Somehow her life hadn’t turned out at all as she’d expected when she and Jennie and Susan had been carefree students. She didn’t profess to be anything special, far from it, but she’d thought by the age of twenty-seven she would be married, probably with the prospect of a family high on the agenda. She’d never envisaged a lifetime career in marketing.
Had she been too choosy with the men she’d dated before Giles? She pictured one or two in her mind. But if the spark wasn’t there, it wasn’t there, surely? She’d liked them, had had fun and some good times, but she’d never been tempted to think of them as ‘the one’.
She hadn’t been aware Zac had left the bar but when he slid into his seat, saying, ‘It’s OK, Rachel. Really,’ her head shot up to meet his gaze. His face was impassive.
She made a gesture of confusion. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘I’m not going to ravish you in the middle of the night when you’re asleep or leap on you the minute we get back to the room. I promise. Now, could you please stop looking as though every moment with me is torture, because you’re making the landlady think we don’t appreciate the luxury of our surroundings.’
She looked into his eyes, saw the hidden laughter in the golden orbs and wanted to kick him. ‘She does not.’
‘Oh, yes, she does,’ he informed her solemnly. ‘“Zac”, she said—we’re on first-name terms now—“it must be my inn that’s putting that expression on your girlfriend’s face because it couldn’t be you. You’re too charming, too wonderful, too altogether fascinating for it to be you.”’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous.’ She glared at him. ‘And I am not your girlfriend.’
