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'Not at all.' Finn stretched out his long legs beneath the table and told her, 'As a topic of conversation I'm sure I'd find you endlessly fascinating.'
And wasn't that the truth? The way she'd smiled at him just now had been a definite come-on, completely at odds with the wary, almost frightened look in her eyes. Almost as if she was flirting with him, inviting him to come close, to touch, but would head for the hills if he so much as moved a muscle!
He smiled at her, trying to put her at her ease, wanting her to open up. If she and her agency were having problems then there was a strong possibility he could help. He wanted to help her, and not entirely because of the family business connection, either; he could be completely honest with himself on that score. 'How about telling me why you chose looking after other people's children as a profession?' he suggested. 'Have you always been a nanny?'
In the waning light her skin gleamed like ivory, the cropped top she was wearing displaying her neat midriff and the slender length of her neck and arms, the dusky valley between her breasts tantalisingly on view because of the number of artfully unfastened buttons.
Desire stirred roughly—an instant, predictable and ungovernable reaction to one very sexy lady!
Caro's eyes widened in consternation as she watched the way he suddenly shifted uncomfortably on his seat, the way the lines at the corners of his mouth hardened, and cast desperately around for something to say.
The flirting game seemed to have been going well. She didn't want his mood to change to impatience, and by the look of things it was doing just that, but she couldn't answer his questions, either.
She gulped. Things were getting scary. Maybe she should give him one last chance to redeem himself. She would casually mention his wife, the missing Fleur, and judge his reaction. If he explained why she wasn't around, and the explanation was reasonable and nothing like her own wild and dark imaginings, then she would revise her opinion and mark his flirtatious behaviour down to harmless habit.
But if he tried to tell her that his wife didn't understand him, or wasn't too important in his life, then she would know the leopard hadn't changed his spots and would have to move in for the kill.
'Surely you won't be able to make a decision on your future home without having Mrs Helliar's opinion?' There, despite the way he had never once, in any connection, mentioned his absent wife, her question, in the circumstances, would seem perfectly natural. She watched his face for any signs of awkwardness but he merely smiled dismissively, lifting those wide, hard shoulders in a lazy shrug.
'Why on earth would you think that? As she'll never spend more than one month in twelve in the UK she'd be the first to agree that her opinion on mine and Sophie's future home was irrelevant. Now, shall I make coffee, or will you?'
He had had his chance to redeem himself, and failed. His message was clear. He and his wife were as good as separated. He could do as he liked. His wife's opinion didn't count.
It was now time for action, not words, she decided feverishly. And, although her heart was racing, by a supreme effort of will she made her movements slow and slinky as she got to her feet and stretched languorously, her hands loosely clasped behind her head.
'No coffee for me, thanks. I'm going to amble around the garden. After that steak, I've got a feeling I could do with the exercise.'
She lowered her arms quickly. The way his eyes made a slow journey of discovery over the contour lines of her body made her stomach clench, the ferocity of the spasm taking her by surprise, making her voice sound as if it had been put through a grater as she invited belatedly, 'Coming?' and turned, swaying slowly over the terrace, one half of her hoping he'd take her up on the invitation and follow, the other half desperately praying he wouldn't.
He had caught up with her by the time she'd negotiated the shallow flight of steps that led down to the lawn. 'Watch where you're going!' Dusk was gathering, shadows deepening, drawing together. Her narrow, naked feet glimmered palely against the grass. 'There could be stones lying around. You might cut yourself.' An inane remark if ever there was one, made to cover the overwhelming impulse he had to lift her into his arms, carry her to his bed and make love to her until she knew darn well she belonged to him.
What the hell was he thinking of? Of course she didn't belong to him! He didn't know where the insane idea had come from—normal male lust for a rav-ishingly attractive woman didn't usually turn him into a fool, for pity's sake! Yet was it so foolish, so impossible?
He cleared his throat of some annoying constriction. 'We need to talk, Caroline. We really do.' It was way past time he levelled with her, told her—among other things—that he knew who she was. Get all that stuff out of the way, cards on the table, and then get on to what he darn well knew was a growing mental and physical attraction for him and, he suspected, for her, too.
Her feet shuffled to a halt, her toes curling in the cool green grass. Saying her name in full like that made everything seem more serious somehow. And talking wasn't on her agenda.
She flinched as he placed his hands on either side of her waist. The touch of his skin on the bare flesh of her midriff sent a massive shock wave through her, paralysing her. She couldn't say a word; only the faintest of moans escaped her parted lips when the pressure of those beautifully crafted hands increased as they tugged her into the lean strength of his body.
His body heat was drugging. She couldn't move, could only drift closer into him, her breath sobbing in her lungs as he made a growling noise in his throat—as if he had lost patience with himself, or her, or both of them—then brought his head down to take her parted lips with the sensual insistence of his.
As a kiss it was intense and primal, her fevered, instinctive response making her realise at last what desire was, how one particular man could set the senses soaring, how passion could leave the most upright woman alive contemplating moral bankruptcy!
Caro didn't know what was wrong with her. She was supposed to get him burning for her, not the other way around!
CHAPTER SEVEN
Caro woke to the sound of Sophie doing her best to out-sing the dawn chorus.
'Wow, and aren't we the early riser!' Caro hoisted herself up on one elbow and brushed her hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand. Six a.m. and the baby was wide awake, bright as a button, and her nanny, although she had hardly slept at all, had slept alone, and for that she had to be very, very thankful.
Because at one stage of the proceedings it had seemed almost a foregone conclusion that she would be sharing the double in the master bedroom. A kind of madness had overtaken her and she went hot and shaky all over now just remembering.
As his hands had begun a lazy exploration of her back, sliding beneath her top, stroking down over her shoulder blades then curving around her ribcage, the restless heat of passion had flamed fiercely inside her, driving her to press herself against his aroused body, everything inside her melting, shaking with need as he'd whispered thickly against her quivering mouth, 'See what you do to me? Stop me if this is too soon for you, but do it now, while I'm still capable of using some self-control.'
The balls of his thumbs had been describing soft circles on the underswell of both of her suddenly desperately aching breasts and she'd wanted him to make love to her, wanted it as she'd never wanted anything before, and the self-betrayal would have been complete if those words of his hadn't finally got through the dizzily spinning remnants of her mind.
Something had frozen inside her. She was sure her heart had stopped beating. She'd snatched at the escape route he had offered and pushed out shakily, 'You're right. It is too soon...much too soon...I'm sorry, Finn...' And she'd jerked away from him, walking back towards the cottage on legs that felt decidedly tottery, not daring to look at him because if she had and he'd held out his hands and spoken her . name she would have hurled herself back into his arms, all wisdom gone, her integrity in shreds. Such was the power of what he did to her.
