The Seduction Scheme

‘Thanks.’ Benedict pulled out one of the two high stools that were pushed underneath the counter. ‘Aren’t you eating?’ Two stools, he noticed, not three; boyfriend didn’t stay over too often, then. He felt a surge of satisfaction.

Rachel thought of the meal she’d never got to eat. ‘I lost my appetite somewhere between losing my child and fighting with my fiancée.’

She glanced down at her finger and realised she’d never actually picked up the ring. She’d never actually said yes. She didn’t believe in fate, but it did seem as if someone was trying to tell her something. Perhaps there was enough of the romantic left in her to wish she could marry someone she genuinely didn’t want to live without. Someone whose touch she craved. A man with whom she could share her deepest dreams and fears—who would make her feel complete.

‘Do you do that much?’

For a horrified split second she thought she’d spoken out loud. It took her another couple of confusion-filled seconds to realise he wasn’t referring to her fantasising and then make the connection with her earlier comment.

‘I don’t make a habit of losing Charlie.’ What a night; it’s no wonder my concentration is shot to hell, she thought.

‘I meant fighting with your boyfriend—though he’s hardly a boy, is he?’ He took another healthy bite of the sandwich and watched the angry colour mount her smooth cheeks. He’d touched a nerve.

‘Nigel is forty-two,’ she snapped back, her fingers drumming against the work surface. ‘I’ve not the faintest idea why I’m justifying myself to you!’ she muttered half to herself.

‘Don’t worry…’

‘I wasn’t!’

‘You probably feel uncomfortable about the age gap.’

‘Age gap!’ she yelped. This man was stretching her maternal gratitude to its limit. ‘I’m thirty.’

‘Really? You don’t look it.’ Time might blur the edges of her beauty in the distant future, but with a bone structure like that the ageing process would be graceful.

The dark, direct stare was deeply disturbing. ‘Am I supposed to be flattered?’ she asked sharply to hide the fact that this unkempt man was making her feel flustered and more self-conscious than she could recall feeling in years!

‘I can do better than that…’

‘I’m sure you can.’

‘But I wouldn’t presume.’

Her brows drew together in a straight line as she looked at him. ‘I find that difficult to believe.’ He had the look of a man who’d do a lot of presuming.

‘Has he ever been married?’

‘As a matter of fact, no. And he’s not gay!’

‘I’m sure you did the right thing asking.’

‘I didn’t ask! Nigel is a cautious man, and he’s seen lots of his friends’ marriages break up.’ She didn’t add that Nigel had always seemed more appalled by the financial havoc this wrought when he’d mentioned the marital failures of his peers. ‘There’s nothing wrong with caution.’ She winced at the defensive note in her voice. There wasn’t a single reason why she needed to justify herself to this man.

‘Not a thing. Not unless it makes you deaf to gut instinct.’

‘Nigel isn’t too big on gut instinct,’ she said drily. She bit her lip, immediately feeling disloyal for voicing this opinion.

‘And you?’

‘Pardon?’ The icy note in her voice didn’t alert him to the fact that he was being unacceptably personal. Wasn’t that just typical? Just when you needed them, the tried and tested remedies let you down…

‘I suppose there are times when a lady like you just can’t afford to listen to her gut instincts,’ he reflected slowly. She searched his face suspiciously; she was certain, despite the gravity of his expression, she was being mocked. ‘I mean, you couldn’t just date any guy who wandered in off the street.’ This time there was no mistaking his reference. ‘Do you have a list? Suitable professions, salary, that sort of thing?’

‘If you want to say I’m a snob…’

‘I’m not really sure what you are,’ he confessed. ‘I’m feeling my way.’

‘I don’t want to be felt!’

‘That explains Nigel’s frustrated expression.’

‘If you’ve finished eating…?’ she said pointedly. She could see from his expression she was wasting her breath. Her haughtiness was passing right over his dark head.

‘Has it always been just the two of you?’

‘Are you always this curious about strangers?’

‘Charlie made me feel like one of the family.’ The flash of laughter in his eyes was reflected by the lopsided smile that tugged at one corner of his mouth. He didn’t let her into the private joke.

‘Really?’ Her arched eyebrows shot up. ‘That’s not something she makes a habit of.’

‘It’s like that sometimes, don’t you find? You meet someone and it feels as if you’ve known them for ever. You just click.’

His voice had a tactile quality when he lowered it to that soft, intimate level; it was almost as if he’d touched her—stroked her. She pushed aside this disturbing notion briskly, because the idea of being touched by this man was extremely disturbing!

‘I try not to make snap decisions.’ Panic was developing into an uncomfortable constriction in her throat. ‘I’m sure you do a lot more…clicking than me,’ she said tartly.

It occurred to her belatedly that it might be a mistake to swap sexual innuendo with someone she wanted to keep at a safe distance. She didn’t want to give the wrong impression.

A laugh was wrenched from his throat. ‘That sounded a lot like a snap judgement to me.’

‘I didn’t mean…’ she began, horrified. She stopped; that was exactly what she’d meant. He had the look of a man who put his charismatic personality to good use with the opposite sex. A sensible woman naturally distrusted a man with such raw, in-your-face sexuality.

‘Many a sexual athlete lurks behind horn-rimmed specs and a geeky exterior,’ he warned, amusement in his face. ‘So is it my social standing or physical appearance which places me in the no-go zone?’

He’d dropped the veiled pretence that this conversation was impersonal. Usually someone who welcomed straight speaking, she felt light-headed with an adrenalin rush that made her want to lock herself safely behind a closed door.

‘I don’t enjoy this sort of conversation.’

‘No, I don’t recall having a conversation precisely like this one before.’

‘Mum, I’m ready.’

Rachel turned, an expression of false vivacity on her face. For once Charlie’s timing was immaculate.

‘Right,’ she said briskly. Love swelled in her chest as she looked at the small figure. How could you feel cross with a child who looked at you with eyes like Charlie’s? she wondered. Especially when those eyes were underlined by dark rings of exhaustion. ‘You’d better say thank you to Mr…’

‘Steve will do just fine.’ A man called Steve wasn’t born with a silver spoon firmly pushed down his throat…a man named Steve didn’t choke on family obligations. He held out his hand and the sleeve of his jacket fell back to reveal the face of his Rolex. Casually he shook his cuff down. A pair of bright blue eyes followed his action.