One Summer At The Lake. Susan Carlisle
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felt like a pretty sorry substitute for not one but two brilliant parents.
She took a deep breath and fought her way clear of the oppressive weight of emotions that continued to hit her when she wasn’t expecting it. There wasn’t time to feel angry at fate or the drunk driver whose carelessness had taken away the twins’ parents. There was barely time to comb her hair some days!
‘I’m sorry. I hope Georgina wasn’t bothering you.’ It was more polite than ‘what the hell are you doing in here?’ but in her experience it was always better to try a smile before you brought out the big stick.
Though it would take a very big stick indeed or even a small army to make this intruder leave if he didn’t take the hint, she thought, sliding a peek at him under her lashes and looking away quickly. The heat climbed into her smooth cheeks as she realised her scrutiny was being returned, though there was nothing remotely surreptitious or apologetic about the way his dark eyes were wandering over her.
She flicked her plait back in a businesslike manner over her shoulder and, raising a brief cool hand to her cheeks, she wished that her protective instincts were the only reason she could feel the heavy, frantic beat of her heart in every inch of her body.
She’d never come across a man who exuded such a raw, sheer maleness before and it was deeply weird, not in a pleasant way, to find her indiscriminate hormones reacting independently to the aura he projected. She pressed her hand protectively to her stomach, which was quivering the way it did when she found herself in any situation that involved high places and the possibility of falling.
Logic suggested he was no danger to Georgie, just another visitor to the Fun Day who’d got lost or was just plain nosy but…the fact that she was the person whose job it was to protect the twins from everything bad in the world meant that Zoe was taking no chances.
‘Now, Georgie, please.’
With a show of reluctance and a big sigh the copper-headed little girl responded finally to the note of command and slid out of the chair. But Isandro wasn’t watching. His eyes were trained on the sliver of pale, toned midriff that was on show. The tantalising flash of flesh vanished as the woman’s hand closed over the child’s. Drawing her in, she bent to speak, saying something to the kid that made her nod before running out of the door.
Isandro watched as the young woman straightened up, throwing the fat plait of glossy dark hair over her shoulder again, exposing the firm curve of her jaw and the long elegant line of her pale throat.
The recognition that his response to her had been primal, out of his control, produced a frown that faded as he put the situation in perspective. Just because he had experienced an unexpectedly strong physical response did not mean he couldn’t control it…Since his failed marriage he had never been in any form of relationship that he couldn’t walk away from, and he never would.
She straightened up. ‘Sorry about that.’
Now the child was gone some of the tension seemed to have left her slender shoulders, though a degree of caution remained in the blue eyes that studied him now with an undisguised curiosity mingled with a critical quality he was not accustomed to seeing when a woman looked at him.
Isandro’s smile held a hint of self mockery…If she had not been beautiful would he have chosen to be amused…?
His appreciation of beauty was not restricted to architecture. He put this woman somewhere in her early twenties, young enough at least to wear no make-up and look good. Her clear skin was flawless, pale tinged with the lightest of roses in her smooth, rounded cheeks. She was not just sexy, she was beautiful.
Not in the classical sense perhaps, and absolutely nothing like the sort of woman he normally found attractive. For starters he dated women who worked hard at and took pride in their appearance. This woman’s grooming left a lot to be desired, but her oval face with wide-set, slanting blue eyes, delicate carved cheekbones and wide, full lips had an arresting quality that combined sexiness with a sense of vulnerability.
Vulnerability was another thing he avoided in women. Needy was just too time-consuming, and time was a precious commodity.
His response simply proved that sexual attraction was not an exact science. Her look was not even smart casual, more scruffy casual. Despite his unflattering assessment of her style he was conscious of a heaviness in his groin by the time his eyes had made the journey up the length of her lusciously long, denim-clad legs. Tall and slender but with feminine curves that the oversized white shirt she wore did not hide, she really did have a delicious body—and she would scrub up well, he decided, picturing her in something silky and insubstantial, and then in nothing at all.
He found his mood mellowing some more. The day might not be a total washout after all. He found himself more attracted to her than he had to a woman in months…It was possible that part of the appeal was she was not his type, not a samey clone. That and the clear-eyed stare, plus the extraordinarily sexy mouth, and the fact he felt confident that he could slide his fingers into her hair and not come away with a handful of hair extensions. Now that had been a real mood killer!
What had the kid called her…?
Not Mum, and she wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t mean anything, so he remained cautious.
There were enough complications in life without inviting them, so Isandro kept his love life simple. He didn’t do long-term relationships and was upfront about it, and even so he had never had to work hard to get a woman into his bed.
Married women, single parents, women who wanted commitment were not conducive to simplicity, so he ruled them out. He had learnt from his mistakes, and an expensive divorce that had lost him both a wife and a best friend provided a steep learning curve. Quite frankly there was no point in inviting problems when there were any number of attractive unattached women who did not come with baggage.
He could fight for a prize when it was required, but it was not his style to fantasise over the unattainable. He had no problem walking away from temptation, however attractively packaged, so he was surprised to recognise that in this instance it was a struggle to adopt his normal take-it-or-leave-it attitude.
Now that her niece was safely away from strangers she should have been able to relax slightly, but Zoe discovered she wasn’t.
Obviously she had registered the fact he was not ugly the moment she entered the room, but she hadn’t noticed the ludicrously long eyelashes, the jet-black, deep set heavy-lidded eyes they framed, or the incredible sculpted structure of his patrician features. Each strong angle and plane of his face was perfect.
He was her idea of a fallen angel—fatally beautiful and seductively dangerous—supposing angels were six-five and wore designer black from head to toe.
He smiled. It was usually possible to tell when a woman felt a reciprocal tug of attraction, and in this case it definitely was…She either wasn’t attempting to hide her reaction or she didn’t know how, not that she was trying to flirt with him, which was actually refreshing. Even a perfect vintage could become pedestrian if a man drank it for breakfast, lunch and dinner; he enjoyed flirtation to a point, but once you knew the moves of the modern mating ritual it could on occasion become painfully predictable.
A sense of expectation buzzing through his veins, he bit into the grapes. They were sour, as predicted, but he smiled.
The flash of white teeth and the intensity of the stranger’s hard dark eyes sent a shiver through Zoe’s body unravelling like a silken ribbon of desire. It was a relief when she finally discovered a flaw, which should have made him less attractive but had quite the reverse effect. The imperfection was relatively minor—a scar, a thin white line that began to the right of one eye and traced the curve of one chiselled cheekbone.
Zoe swallowed and plucked at the neckline of her shirt as the palpable silence in the room stretched. Her tingling awareness of him was so strong that there was a delay for several seconds before her body responded to the desperate commands of her brain. She was close to applauding with sheer relief when she managed to gather up the shreds of her self-control and lower her gaze.