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‘Tell me.’
She shrugged uncomfortably. She knew by now he wasn’t like Giles. Giles had pretended tenderness and consideration and honesty and it had all be counterfeit, but she supposed she’d continued to liken Zac to Giles inasmuch as she’d expected him to enjoy being the centre of attention at parties and entertaining and such like. He was so handsome, so charismatic she’d imagined he’d fly with the smart set and have something of a…superficial life. But she couldn’t very well say that. Her mind racing, she said lamely, ‘I didn’t expect you to be something of a recluse, I guess.’
He didn’t laugh. Instead, he considered her words for a moment or two as they walked. Then he nodded. ‘I suppose you could say I’m reclusive to some extent, at least when I feel the need to be. That being said, I’m not adver
se to company on certain occasions.’
His tone had been lazy but she knew he was telling her his lifestyle certainly didn’t encompass celibacy. Not that she’d thought it did. Nevertheless, she was surprised how much it hurt. Stupid, Rachel, she told herself grimly. Really stupid.
‘And, of course, with my father getting older I tend to run the firm pretty much these days, and that includes travelling when the need arises, like this trip to England.’ He smiled at her. ‘Not that any of my other trips have yielded such an unexpected bonus as this one.’
She forced a smile in return. ‘And your friends?’ she persisted. ‘You do have friends, I take it?’
‘Yes, Rachel, I have friends,’ he said gravely. ‘Some married, some single and one or two in the process of getting divorces. Pretty average, wouldn’t you say?’
Perhaps, but Zac Lawson was far from average and that was part of the trouble.
He continued to talk about his life in Canada as they walked back to the inn, the snow falling with picture-postcard prettiness and not at all with the ferocity of the day before. But he didn’t mention girlfriends, past or present.
Not that she wanted him to, not really, Rachel told herself as she listened to his low, melodic, faint Canadian drawl, but at the same time she did. Which didn’t make sense. Along with everything to do with this weekend.
They had no sooner passed the group of rather obese-looking snowmen in the pub’s grounds and entered the warmly welcoming interior of the inn than they were pounced on by the blonde walker. ‘Enjoy your walk?’ she asked chirpily, and without giving them a chance to reply added, ‘I’m Angel, by the way. My name’s Angela but no one calls me that. Come and meet the rest of the gang.’ She turned and indicated the rest of the party, who were gathered round the log fire and who smiled and opened up to include them, making it rude to refuse. ‘We’ve got a couple of jugs of hot chocolate. Help yourself.’
They were a friendly lot. At the end of an hour Rachel had heard a couple of life stories, knew that the walking club had been going for three years—and growing all the time, the organiser, an intense young man with white-blond hair and acne assured her—and that every month they chose a different location to gather together for a whole weekend of walking.
‘Lucky it was here this weekend,’ Angel breathed meaningfully, her eyes eating up Zac before including the others as she said, ‘This being such a great inn and all.’
Surprisingly, Rachel felt the edges of her mouth turn up. The girl was shameless and so overt in her intentions it was like watching a caricature of the original vamp.
Zac caught her eye and she knew he was thinking along the same lines because his eyes were bright with suppressed laughter. He stood up, holding out his hand to Rachel. ‘Shall we freshen up before lunch?’
She escaped the group gratefully, and once they were alone in the hall giggled as she said, ‘Do we take it Angel’s one of the fallen kind?’
‘Without a doubt.’ He returned her smile lazily and it was there, in the hall of the inn with the sound of laughter and voices from the room they’d just left filtering through and the landlady sounding as though she was shouting at someone in the kitchen, that she realised this love wasn’t the sort you were able to get over. It was the once-in-a-lifetime sort.
Fortunately Zac took her hand and they began to climb the stairs at that point because she was sure her face would have given her away if he’d continued to smile at her. As it was, she had managed to pull herself together by the time they’d scaled the second flight of steep, narrow stairs and Zac had followed her into their room.
Their boots and trousers had inevitably got caked with snow on the walk, and as Zac sat down on the edge of the bed and took off his boots, before unconcernedly unbuckling the belt of his jeans, Rachel sat down on her side with her back to him. She wasn’t going to be able to do this, not spend another night in the same bed. Pathetic it might be, and it wasn’t even that she didn’t trust Zac to show restraint. It was herself she feared. At the moment, he knew she was sexually attracted to him but that was all, and she’d die a thousand deaths if she betrayed how she really felt.
She heard him take off his jeans and then the sound of his suitcase opening and shutting. Half a minute later his voice came, wryly amused. ‘You can look now.’
She had taken off her own boots but was still in her damp trousers. As he came to stand in front of her dressed in dry clothes, she schooled her face into a faintly quizzical expression. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Sure you don’t.’ He grinned. ‘Like me to help you off with those wet things?’ he offered helpfully.
‘I can manage perfectly well, thank you.’
‘Considering we slept together last night, you’re remarkably reticent this morning.’ He quirked an eyebrow, still grinning.
‘We slept in the same bed, that’s all.’
His eyes widened innocently. ‘Isn’t that what I just said?’
This time she maintained a dignified silence and gave him a long look. Zac returned the stare, teasing her.
With a hauteur that wasn’t altogether feigned, Rachel rummaged through her own clothes and found fresh jeans. Willing her cheeks not to burn, and failing miserably, she whipped off the damp jeans and pulled on the dry ones without looking at Zac. When she did raise her head he had turned to stare exaggeratedly in the opposite direction. In spite of herself she had to smile. ‘You can look now. I’m quite decent.’
‘Sure? I’m a sensitive soul with fragile sensibilities.’
