The Forgotten Gallo Bride. Natalie Anderson
Читать онлайн книгу.
that naive girl any more. She wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself now. She wasn’t going to run away and hide. ‘I’m not here to provide you with intimate entertainment.’
His gaze clashed with her own fierce one. Something changed within his expression. Then he too straightened.
‘What did Jasper say to you?’ he asked harshly, even angrier now.
‘That you were going to be alone this weekend.’
‘And he thinks that’s a problem?’ he asked bitterly. ‘Does he think I can’t handle being alone?’
‘You’d have to ask him that,’ she answered crossly. ‘I’m just doing what he asked me to.’
‘Well, Jasper was mistaken in asking you to do anything for me. I apologise for my crass assumption. You may leave.’
It couldn’t have sounded less like an apology. The sky was darkening more and she could see less of his face but she could sense his anger and his resistance to her presence. Her own anger bubbled. That he could be so rude? Had he truly forgotten her? She didn’t care if he couldn’t cope on his own or not, he didn’t look remotely incapacitated to her. As far as she was concerned, Jasper was worrying about nothing and she couldn’t wait to get out of the place. But she couldn’t get past him not recognising her. ‘Don’t you know who—?’
But it was then that the heavens truly opened, turning from torrential rain to ice. Marble-sized hailstones pelted down, bouncing on the gravel and her car and creating such a din she could no longer hear herself think let alone catch a word of what he was now saying. She saw him mutter something else—most likely impolite—then he stepped back and held his arm out towards her.
Was he inviting her in now?
Furious, she didn’t move. He sent her such a speaking look and then reached for her. His grip on her upper arm was hard and her feet were moving before she’d thought better of it. The door slammed behind her, shutting out the worst of the icy racket. But it was colder indoors than it had been out there. Her heart pounded. He’d stepped back only enough to drag her inside and suddenly they were face to face and only a couple of inches apart, his grip on her wasn’t any less ferocious and she could feel his breath on her frozen face.
Her gaze clashed with his. In the dim light she could see little of his expression, only that it was harsh. Her breathing—and her pulse—quickened at his nearness. Her body remembered his touch and she shivered.
Abruptly he released her. As he turned away his hand brushed hers and she quivered again as that electricity arced into her.
Yes. For her, he’d always packed a punch.
‘You may wait in here, until the hail has stopped,’ he said stiffly, taking another step back from her, frowning down at his hand before turning to switch on the light.
She blinked as the sudden brightness hurt her eyes—as did his silence. Shaken by her intense reaction to his proximity, she decided it was better to stay silent herself.
He didn’t invite her into a warm room and offer her a seat or a drink or anything more comfortable, only shelter from the storm that should hopefully pass quickly overhead.
It was clear he didn’t want to wait with her, yet he didn’t want to leave her alone in his large, inhospitable house either. She suppressed a vicious smile at his quandary, still smarting from his lack of recognition of her.
A year ago she’d seen him smile and heard him laugh as he’d joked with Jasper. From her hidden corner she’d been so drawn to him. He’d been arrogant then too, confident and assured, but it was different now—cold disapproval radiated from every inch of his body. He didn’t want the intrusion. He didn’t want her.
Well, he’d never wanted her. And that was just fine, wasn’t it?
Except there’d been one moment all those months ago. One moment when he’d teased her, smiled at her, reassured her. And then come close to her. Her cheeks burned at the memory of just how close he’d gotten to her then. He’d taken her by surprise—and her own reaction?
‘Miss—?’
He interrupted her thoughts, dragging her back to the cold, miserable presence.
He was staring, his eyebrows raised slightly as if he was wondering what she was thinking. Embarrassed, she glanced around the vast interior. It was freezing and so unwelcoming.
‘Falconer.’ She told him her new name. ‘Zara Falconer.’
She looked back at him as she spoke but there was no reaction at all in his expression.
And there was no outward sign of injury either. He seemed perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Yet Jasper had been adamant that Tomas needed her. He’d been agitated about it. And curiosity had been too much for her.
Tomas was undeniably the same lethally attractive man, but the shadows in his face were deeper and darker. He didn’t look like the carefree, rapier-sharp devil she’d met that day.
‘Jasper asked me to housekeep for you for a few days,’ she finally, formally explained her mission.
‘You’re too young.’ He dismissed the idea in an instant.
She bristled, a bitter smile twisting her lips. How many times had she heard that in her life? Yes, she did look younger than she was, but she wasn’t stupid and she could work as hard as anyone. In fact, she could work harder. She had for years. ‘I’m not as young as I look.’
* * *
Tomas stared down at the bedraggled woman standing in front of him. She might think otherwise but he knew what Jasper’s intentions had been in sending her to him. The old schemer had been insisting for months that what Tomas really needed was some fun times with a beautiful woman. That if he relaxed, it would all come right, but his old friend was completely wrong. And the minute he got rid of her, he’d be phoning Jasper to tell him so. Again.
But it surprised him that Jasper had sent someone so unlike the usual high-maintenance-model bombshell that the old man himself preferred. This girl was too sweet. She looked so damned young in those thin sneakers, wet jeans and the light jacket that didn’t offer sufficient protection from the rain and annoyed the hell out of him. But as he looked closer he saw she was right. She wasn’t quite as young as her appearance first suggested.
When Tomas had opened that door she’d had a shy smile on her glowing face. The rain had been like dew on her radiant skin. Her loosely tied back rich brown hair had been starting to tumble, so wet tendrils curled softly at her temples. Her sweetheart-shaped face was dominated by those large sea-green shining eyes and full rosebud lips. Hell, she’d even had a dimple when she smiled. She’d looked the very picture of innocence and joie de vivre.
Everything he wasn’t. Everything he’d never had.
Right now she looked the picture of indignation. It was no less attractive and he was finding it very hard to wrench his eyes off her.
His thoughts were appallingly sexual in nature. He’d taken one look at her and been hit by the almost irresistible urge to draw her close and kiss her—and made a fool of himself in thinking that was why she’d come here. But her mouth looked full and soft and perfect for kissing and she was just the right size to fit in his arms and press against his hard body. He ached for that even now.
He couldn’t remember when he’d last kissed a woman. Or last wanted to. But then, he couldn’t remember anything.
Angered, he stepped towards her, not stopping even as her eyes widened in wary surprise. He didn’t want to know why she was here making a small puddle on the hall floor as the water streamed from her stupidly light jacket. He didn’t want to be bothered by how frozen her fingers had felt when the back of his hand had brushed against them. He didn’t want to see those still-shining eyes casting their innocent, cautious appeal at him.
He didn’t want to want her.
What