Page 39 of His Best Mistake

If only she could get her growing feelings for Jack under control. She knew what was happening. Despite her previous hope that she’d be able to ride out the lust, she was acting true to form and falling for him. For the sake of her sanity and her weary heart she ought to find her inner strength and put a stop to it, but it was hard when he was everything she’d ever wanted. Yet where could this possibly go? Jack showed no sign of being similarly afflicted and even if he was things were complicated enough already.

She needed some air, she thought, levering herself up off the bed. She needed to blow away the cobwebs, alleviate the uneasy restlessness inside her and regain her perspective. Regroup and build up her defences before she slid straight down the slope into heartbreak and misery.

Jack had disappeared off somewhere, so Stella decided that since the afternoon was unseasonably warm she’d go for a walk. She changed her shoes and grabbed a cardigan and opened the door, to find him standing there, fist raised, as if he was about to knock on it. In the same instant, the air rushed from her lungs and she was suddenly very aware of the huge bed behind her. Skin prickling, she automatically took a step back, out of his orbit, and breathed.

“Did you want something?” she asked lightly, thankfully sounding completely normal.

“I did,” he said with a nod. “I wanted to let you know I’ve booked a table in the restaurant for eight.”

“Great. Thank you. And thank you for all this.”

“No problem.” His gaze slid down her body leaving a trail of heat in its wake. “Going out?”

“I thought I might go for a walk.”

“Good idea,” he said, flashing her a quick smile. “It’ll build up an appetite for dinner. I’ll join you.”

What? No. That was not the plan. How could she get perspective if Jack was with her? She could hardly think straight when he was close, and she needed to. Badly. “Honestly, Jack, I’ll be fine,” she said with an airy wave of her hand. “There’s no need to worry. I’ll take my mobile.”

He arched an eyebrow and grinned, and there went her pathetic heart flip-flopping all over the place because he was just so hard to resist. “I was actually thinking about me,” he said.

“Oh?”

“This place apparently sits in nine thousand acres of English countryside, some of which I’d quite like to see too. But there are alpacas. Deer. Very possibly kamikaze sheep and no doubt a whole host of other forms of perilous wildlife. You’re a country girl. I’m a Londoner. I need you to protect me. Come on.”

Jack spun on his heel and grabbed his jacket and with a sigh, Stella followed him. What else could she do? To refuse would be churlish when he was the one who’d arranged all this, and she did need air. Besides, if she protested too much he might decide to probe and the last thing she wanted to do was explain how she was feeling. She might have decided to open up but there were limits.

However, as she

and Jack wandered through the stunning grounds and he entertained her with stories that made her laugh despite herself, Stella felt the remnants of her defences crumble and realised that if anyone was in need of protection, it was her.

*

He wasn’t nearly as rusty on the charm front as he’d imagined, thought Jack over supper a few hours later, as he watched Stella practically weeping with laughter at something he’d said. It was good to know that he was the one who’d caused it. Almost as good as realising that he hadn’t laughed so much in years either.

Despite its inauspicious beginnings the last week had turned out really rather well. The shadows in her eyes had gone and the stress had faded from her expression. They’d spent time together and talked and he’d found himself increasingly fascinated by her.

And not just fascinated. When he’d decided to switch on the charm he’d failed to consider that it could work both ways. He hadn’t allowed for the fact that her response to his attempts to distract her and entertain her would lead to him being equally charmed by her. But he was. Totally and utterly charmed. The smiles she shot him and the warmth in her gaze whenever it rested on him seemed to do strange things to his chest.

This had given him pause for thought and as a result he’d toyed with the idea of going back to work, but then she’d revealed it was her birthday, implying that it had never really been celebrated before, and he’d thought to hell with work. He’d give her a birthday to remember. He hadn’t even hesitated.

But perhaps he should have because he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his hands off her. The attraction that had never really gone away was back with the strength of a gale force wind, whipping up a storm inside him and creating havoc with his reason. He spent virtually every moment they were together wishing he could haul her off and take her to bed. He’d lost count of the number of cold showers he’d had to have.

Take this afternoon, for example. The hour-long, pleasingly wildlife-free walk should have been equally pleasingly desire-and-tension-free. It had started off benignly enough, the conversation meandering as much as the path, but then they’d come across a bronze abstract sculpture of two figures entwined. While telling him what she knew about the artist Stella had smoothed her hand over the lines of it, slowly, lovingly, as if savouring every pit and bump, and he’d been transfixed. His mind had reeled back to that night at the cottage when her hands had been all over him in much the same way and within seconds he was as hard as the rock the sculpture was sitting on, and this close to dragging her off into the bushes.

When they’d got back to the hotel, she’d headed to the spa and he’d gone for a swim, but the vague hope he’d had that powering up and down the length of the pool might calm all the feelings rocketing around inside him had been dashed when she’d emerged from her room ready to head downstairs, dressed in a figure-hugging wrap-around dress that made him want to forget dinner and spend the night unwrapping her.

Now, after a delicious meal, the candles flickering gently over her face, desire was building inside him, almost unbearable in its intensity because she was gorgeous, even with the hiccuping and smudged mascara, or maybe, actually, because of it.

“Are you all right?” he asked, tension and desire making his voice rough.

Stella nodded and discreetly wiped her eyes with her napkin. “I will be,” she said, the laughter still echoing in her voice. “Goodness, I had no idea you could be so funny.”

“Neither did I.”

“That was hilarious.”

“We thought so at the time.”

---