Fiancee By Mistake Read online

  'We can.'

  Abruptly he lost interest in the dark teasing, turning away from her and reaching for his discarded sweater, pulling it on with a rough, jerky movement

  'Face it, lady, we're stuck here together for as long as this snow takes to clear. And, while I'm no more pleased about the situation than you are, I'm forced to accept the fact that I can see no possible alternative. If you're wise you'll do the same.'

  'I don't seem to have any choice.'

  Her voice was unexpectedly subdued, and as she spoke he caught the faint shiver that shook her feminine frame. Immediately his conscience pricked him uncomfortably.

  'You're cold. Look, why don't I show you to your room and you can change into something warmer and more comfortable?'

  'Something less tarty, don't you mean?' she flashed back. 'Something less characteristic of the woman you think I am.'

  'If the dress fits,' he murmured sardonically, smiling straight into her indignant face. 'Look, lady, all I mean is that we're stuck here, whether we like it or not, so we might as well make the best of things. I think we could communicate more—rationally—if you wore something a little less provocative.'

  Certainly he would feel more in control if he wasn't confronted at every turn by the soft smoothness of her flesh, the peachy bloom of those rounded shoulders, the cleavage beneath. If he didn't have to see the way the velvet dress clung lovingly to every curve, see the hellishly short skirt that exposed those long, long legs...

  'And you'll be able to stop drooling!'

  'You'd also feel better if you were warmer,' Sean persisted, refusing to rise to her bait.

  Was he really so obvious? Did what he thought show in his eyes every time he looked at her? Or was it just that she recognised the hunger he felt because she had been in its grip too, and possibly still felt its power?

  "This cottage isn't centrally heated, and you got soaked while you were outside. You'd be much more comfortable in something dry and clean.'

  'We both would,' she put in unexpectedly.

  When he frowned his surprise at her interjection she gestured silently with one hand, drawing his attention to the way that his jeans were still darkened from his knees to his ankles where the snow had melted. In the heat of events since their arrival at the cottage he hadn't even registered the fact that his clothes were as wet as her own.

  'We both would,' he agreed soberly. 'You must be chilled to the bone. So why don't you have a shower to warm yourself through and then get changed? There's plenty of hot water. I left the immersion heater on while I was out.'

  Practicality helped. It distracted him from the blatant carnality of his thoughts, imposed control on a situation he had feared was rapidly running away from him.

  'And while you do that I'll get the fire going again and sort out something to eat. How does that sound?'

  'Wonderful!' It came out on a sigh, her voice surprisingly weak, and she passed a hand briefly across her eyes as if suddenly very tired.

  'Are you OK?'

  For a moment genuine concern sharpened his voice, only to fade again as swiftly as it had come when he saw her suddenly snap to attention again, clearly ready to repulse any move he made to help her.

  Tm fine.'

  'Are you sure?' If he was honest, she didn't look it. Her face was colourless, her eyes seeming too big above her pallid cheeks. 'You could still be in shock—the aftereffects of the accident.'

  'I'm fine. And if I am in shock it's not the accident that caused it. So if you'll just tell me which room I can have... '

  Sean didn't care for her coolly dismissive tone, and he liked even less the way she looked down her nose at him, as if he was something particularly nasty and foul-smelling that bad just crawled out from under a stone. But he clamped his jaw tight shut on an angry response.

  'This way.'

  In the hall be picked up her bag and led the way up the steep, creaking staircase to the narrow landing at the top.

  'Bathroom,' he announced, flinging open the nearest of the three doors. 'My bedroom—and yours—'

  Then he caught the way she was looking at him.

  'What the hell is it now? Oh, I see!'

  It was almost as if he could read her mind, so clearly were her thoughts stamped on that fine-boned face.

  'You didn't really believe that I would provide separate bedrooms, is that it? Well, you don't have to worry about that, sweetheart. Believe me, you're perfectly safe. I have no designs on your virtue at all.'

  'My virtue?' Her tone was taut, but she seemed to be having to make an effort to inject it with the sort of bite that had been there before. 'I didn't think you believed I had any.'

  'My opinion of you is irrelevant.'

  Unable to trust himself not to respond to her provocation if he stayed any longer, he dropped her case onto the narrow bed in the far comer of the room he had allocated to her, heedless of whether it landed safely or not, and turned for the stairs.

  'There are clean towels in the airing cupboard in the bathroom,' he tossed at her. 'Help yourself.'

  'Perhaps it's your own virtue that you're afraid might be threatened.'

  Her taunt floated down the stairs after him, the malicious mockery in her tone making a nonsense of his earlier worry that she might be feeling unwell.

  Downstairs, he was thankful that the physical activity needed to collect coal, lay and light the fire was a welcome distraction from other, less acceptable thoughts. It proved a much needed antidote to the fizzing electrical energy that seemed to be burning in his blood, keeping him permanently on edge.

  It was just anger that made him feel this way, he told himself. Anger at the way she had led him on then suddenly applied the brakes so hard that he had practically bruised himself against the force of her rejection.

  Anger at the weather that now kept them trapped here together and ensured that Pete, even supposing he'd got himself sobered up fast, would not be able to come and collect her for twenty-four hours or more.

  Anger at his brother's fiancée for being the sort of cold, heartless bitch who could leap into one man's bed when she had only just left another victim broken-hearted—and all the time having yet a third lover dangling on a string.

  'Damn her!' He slammed coal onto the fire with a violence that expressed the force of his feelings. 'Damn her to hell!'

  But the real problem was knowing that the full strength of his fury was actually directed at himself. He had known from the start just who this woman was, and yet that hadn't stopped him at all. No thought of Pete had been in his mind when he had kissed that incredibly full, soft mouth, when he had caressed the smooth warmth of her skin, peeled away the clinging velvet dress...

  'Oh, God!'

  This time he could not hold back the groan of response. He had accused her of feeling nothing more than lust and she had flung the accusation right back in his face. And she had been right.

  That was the real trouble. He couldn't even begin to try to deny it. He had wanted her so badly, desired her with a passion that made his body ache just to recall it. He had lusted after her—and he still did.

  It should have been easier with her out of the room. He might have thought that then the fire burning in his blood, the throbbing race of his pulse, would slow, gradually fading away. But in fact he felt far worse.

  What he should be doing was contacting Pete. The young fool would be desperate to know if his plan had succeeded and if his erstwhile fianc6e was safely secured so that he could come and try to talk some sense into her. After all, seeing as he had told Annie that he had no phone, it wouldn't do to have his brother shatter that illusion with a frantic enquiry later. He'd do it now, while she was in the shower.

  But the only response from the other end of the line was the infuriating repetition of the engaged tone. Either Pete was pouring out his tale of woe to someone else or he had left the phone off the hook while he sobered himself up. Either way, he would have to leave it for now.

  As he cros
sed the hall again he could hear the sound of the shower, still running in the bathroom upstairs. It was impossible not to think of that water pounding down onto her naked body, not to imagine that white flesh beginning to glow under the heat of it. Impossible not to picture her hands, rich with creamy lather, gliding over the curves of her breasts, sliding down past her waist, over her hips...

  'Hell, no!'

  With a brutal effort he dragged his mind away from such tormenting images and forced it onto practical matters, hurrying to the kitchen. Coffee first, to warm them both, and then he would think of food.

  His concentration was so fierce that he barely registered that the sound of the shower had ceased, didn't hear the soft pad of bare feet across the landing. He was absorbed in peeling and chopping vegetables when a quiet voice spoke behind him.

  'Can I do anything to help?'

  Sean's hand closed over his knife in convulsive reaction. But that one second of response was all that he allowed himself. Deliberately keeping his face turned away, he shook his head, turning only when he knew that he had his expression and his breathing well under control.

  'It's all in hand. It's just something quick and easy.'

  Change into something more comfortable, he had said, and she had done just that. But if she had aimed for something less provocative then she most definitely had not succeeded.

  The well-worn denim jeans she had on were skintight, clinging to the rounded hips and long legs almost as lovingly as the velvet dress had done. And the lilac sweater picked up and deepened the colour of those stunning eyes, making them look even more brilliant against the magnolia blossom purity of her skin.

  With her face entirely free of the artifice of make-up, she looked, if it were possible, even more beautiful than before.

  Her long dark hair, still damp from her shower, fell loose in soft waves around her shoulders, the ends just beginning to curl as they dried. She looked at least ten years younger than when he had first seen her, and infinitely more approachable, almost delicately vulnerable, especially when her nose twitched like that. 'Something smells good anyway. Italian?'

  'Mmm.'

  Hastily he crushed down his weak thoughts, refusing to allow himself to acknowledge how appealing she looked as she inhaled appreciatively.

  'Lasagne.'

  'Wonderful!' Her smile lit up her face. 'I'm very impressed.'

  'Don't be.' Sean was unable to stop himself from responding to her enthusiasm with a grin of his own. 'I have to admit that I didn't make it from scratch. In this case, "quick and easy" means something cooked and frozen by my mother. All I've done is reheat it according to her instructions.'

  'You obviously have a very loving mother.'

  'She was concerned that, left to myself, I wouldn't eat properly, and she might just have been right.'

  'It's been a bad time for you?'

  Catching the surprised glance he slanted in her direction, she made a small, appeasing gesture with her hands.

  'It's just that you don't strike me as the sort of man who would normally neglect important things like that. And, as you seem pretty self-reliant, I can't believe that you don't really know how to cook.'

  Her perspicacity knocked him off balance for a moment, so that before he quite realised it he had told her the truth.

  'At one time I admit I was so low that I took very little interest in anything.'

  The look in her eyes, a sudden shadow in their violet depths, alerted him to the fact that he had let slip more than he had intended and needed to act hastily to cover his tracks.

  'But that gave my mother the perfect opportunity to play doting parent. Through there—' he indicated a door at the far end of the tiny kitchen '—is a freezer stuffed to the gills with enough goodies to feed an army for a month.'

  To his relief, she followed his lead.

  'Just what you need in weather like this. It is still snowing, I take it?'

  'Worse than ever. When I last looked out, the tracks the car had made were already completely covered. We were lucky to make it here at all.'

  'And if you hadn't come along to help me I would have been in real trouble,' she said with a faint shudder. 'I really do appreciate your help.'

  'I could hardly have left you there,' Sean growled.

  It was damnably difficult maintaining this conversation. The trouble was that it seemed just an ordinary exchange of polite trivia, so that anyone looking in from outside would have believed it to be precisely that. But polite and trivial was not at all the way he felt

  Every inch of his body was stretched taut in awareness of her physical presence. In his ears her voice sounded so soft and musical that he felt he could listen to it all night and never tire of the sound. His fingers itched to smooth over those fine-boned shoulders, slide through the glossy brown hair. He was a burning tangle of unease, had a hunger that no food could satisfy, while she looked so cool and composed, totally in control.

  And that was the real problem. This was not at all how he wanted her to be, damn her!

  He didn't want her to stand there looking as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. Not when he could remember how wild she had been in his arms, how gloriously needy and wanton. He didn't want to believe that she could switch from that passion to this control in the space of a few short moments. He wanted her to be as shaken as he had been—as he still was.

  'But, all the same, I do appreciate it.'

  'No problem.'

  The scar on his face ached abominably, and he rubbed at it abstractedly, freezing when he saw her eyes follow the movement.

  'Was it because of the accident that you felt so low? Look, are you sure I can't help?'

  'You can pour a drink, if you like. That cupboard over there. Wine for me, and whatever you'd like.'

  'I'll have the same.'

  Her voice was muffled as she reached into the cupboard he had indicated, pulling out a bottle and a couple of glasses. Sean suddenly had the strangest feeling that she was actually trying to make things easier for him. That she was giving him the chance to answer the question in his own time.

  'Yes, it was after the accident. For a while I felt pretty disillusioned and had no interest in anything.' Until he'd heard the words spoken out loud he hadn't believed he was going to say them. He had hardly spoken to anyone about this, let alone a complete stranger.

  Perhaps it was something as simple as the fact that she had kept her back to him, concentrating on pouring the wine, that made it easier to tell her.

  '"Disillusioned"? That's a strange word to use.'

  She was turning back now, holding out a glass to him.

  'I could see why you'd feel depressed or downhearted, but disillusioned...'

  'You'd understand if you knew the whole story,' Sean muttered cynically.

  Oh, damn his bloody big mouth! He'd given her the perfect opportunity to say. Tell me the whole story. And that was something he hadn't done—even to Pete or his mother. Surprisingly, she didn't pick him up on it. Instead she frowned delicately, a fine line appearing in the space between her arched brows.

  'How long ago was this accident? That scar looks pretty recent.'

  'You could say that.' His mouth twisted on the words.

  'I got out of hospital just over eight weeks ago. I was actually a patient for a fortnight or so.'

  "That would explain it.'

  She nodded slowly, the violet eyes resting briefly on the damaged side of his face.

  'Do you want this wine or not?'

  Belatedly Sean realised that she was still holding the glass out to him. He moved forward to take it from her, frowning darkly when he saw the way she jumped as their fingers brushed for a second, the speed with which she stepped backwards, away from him.

  'I suppose in time it will fade—become less dramatic.'

  'Less horrific, don't you mean?' Sean snarled, still smarting from her nervous reaction. 'Well, I hate to disillusion you, but I'll never look like Inspector Callender, let alone—wh
at was the phrase you used?—God's gift to women, ever again!'

  To his consternation she actually looked hurt.

  'That wasn't what I meant at all! But I suppose I should have known that's how you'd interpret what I said. After all, your face is your fortune, isn't it? You must hate the idea that you no longer qualify for a place in the top ten sexiest men alive. It really must have dealt your lady-killer image a terrible blow. Is that why you're hiding away up here in this isolated spot?'

  For a mindless second Sean's hand tightened round the stem of his glass so convulsively that he was frankly surprised when it didn't snap under the pressure. In the back of his mind he could hear Marnie's voice, taunting him with almost the very same words, and his eyes closed briefly against the memories it brought with it.

  'I told you before not to confuse the character I play with reality,' he tossed at her coolly. 'And for your information, I am not "hiding away" anywhere. I had already decided on a couple of months' holiday before the accident. In the circumstances it seemed even more important to take it, in order to ensure that I was fully fit to return to work when the time came.'

  As he spoke he was moving to check the food in the cooker, so he didn't see her reaction to his words.

  That should be ready in about forty minutes. If you don't mind I'll use the time to have a quick shower, and then...'

  The words dried on his lips as he turned to see her moving about the small living room, occasionally stopping to examine something more closely. As he spoke she had come to a halt in front of the old oak dresser which took up almost all of the length of one wall.

  He knew exactly what she had seen, and privately cursed his stupidity in not moving it earlier when he had the chance.

  In silence he watched as she reached out and picked up the framed photograph, turning it into the light. Sean could picture in his mind just what she was seeing. Pete. Taken only that summer, here in the garden of the cottage. With his fair hair falling over his face and a wide, infectious grin, it was his brother to a tee. Folding his arms across his chest, Sean could only watch and wait.