Passion & Pleasure. Julia James
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desperately, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ She spread her hands wide, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her. ‘I—I don’t know what came over me. You’re right. That—shouldn’t have happened.’
‘Forget it.’
His voice was harsh, but she didn’t kid herself he was saying that because he felt any responsibility for what had just occurred. It was even possible that he was feeling sorry for her, and that was worse. She couldn’t bear the thought that he and Diane might laugh about this behind her back.
‘Look,’ she said uncomfortably, ‘if you’d rather I left now, I’ll quite understand. I’m sure you won’t have any difficulty in finding someone else to take my place.’
‘Do you want to leave?’
His question startled her. ‘I—it’s not what I want, is it?’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘No.’ She realised she was still standing there with her arms spread and hurriedly dropped them to her sides. ‘I mean, it’s going to be difficult for us to work together after—this.’
‘For you, you mean?’
‘For you, too.’ Fliss stared helplessly at him. ‘All I can say is that I’ve never done anything like this before.’
‘I believe you.’ A hint of a smile touched his lips again. ‘From what I’ve heard, your last employer was in his nineties.’
Fliss flushed. ‘That’s not what I meant,’ she said, her fear that he might find the situation funny resurrecting itself. ‘I don’t—get involved with men.’
Matt held her gaze. ‘Except with the man who fathered your child,’ he remarked wryly. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t marry him if you have such conservative views.’
Fliss’s lips tightened. She wasn’t sure but she thought that might be an insult and she wondered what Diane had told him. And, even though she never discussed Amy’s father with anyone, she felt compelled to defend herself.
‘I didn’t want to marry Amy’s father,’ she said stiffly. ‘And I certainly didn’t plan on having a baby at sixteen.’
‘So why take the risk?’ Matt’s brows ascended. ‘Forgive me, but you must have known what would happen, even at sixteen.’
Fliss shook her head. ‘You don’t understand.’
‘So enlighten me.’
‘Why should I?’ Fliss gave him a defiant look.
‘Because I’m interested.’
‘Curious, don’t you mean?’ He shrugged, and although she suspected she was going to regret it later, she said, ‘I was naive. I’d never been the kind of girl to—well, to get involved with boys. I’d always been more interested in my school work, in getting good grades.’
‘Admirable.’
‘Yes.’ She didn’t know if he was being sarcastic or not, but she went on anyway. ‘I was flattered by an older boy’s attentions, and I made a mistake. End of story.’
‘But it wasn’t the end of the story, was it?’ he said. ‘You had Amy.’
‘Yes, I did. And Terry and his parents left the village telling everyone who would listen that he wasn’t the baby’s father.’
‘Nice guy!’
She pulled a wry face. ‘It was all for the best really. It would never have worked.’ She glanced about her at the worktops piled high with goods she’d taken from the cupboards she was cleaning. ‘Anyway, I’ll just tidy this stuff away and then I’ll go.’
Matt folded his arms across his midriff. ‘Are you still annoyed with me?’
Fliss shook her head. ‘No. I’m annoyed with myself.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I don’t want you to think I regret anything that’s happened.’
‘Not even us sharing a kiss?’
She flushed. ‘Not even that.’
His lips twisted. ‘Well, don’t worry about it. As you said, it’s not going to happen again.’
‘No, it’s not.’ Brushing past him, she lifted the broken steps out of the way and shoved them next to the back door. Then, lifting the bucket she had been using into the sink, she emptied the water away. ‘And as far as paying me for this week is concerned, you can have it on the house.’
He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a swear-word, but as it wasn’t spoken in English she couldn’t be sure. In any case, she was appalled at her own behaviour. It was all right making those kinds of gestures when you could afford it. Unfortunately she couldn’t.
Matt shifted then, coming to stand with his back to the counter beside her, his frustration evident. ‘Look, can’t we forget all this nonsense and start again?’ he demanded.
Fliss turned her head. ‘You really want me to stay?’
Matt expelled a weary sigh. ‘Yeah. I really want you to stay.’
She considered. ‘And you won’t—tell Diane what happened?’
Once again a quirk of amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth. ‘No, I won’t tell Diane,’ he promised. Then, with a strangely mocking expression, he turned away. ‘Take my word for it, she’d never believe it.’
Chapter Eight
MATT spent the rest of the day cursing himself for letting the situation with Fliss develop as it had. It would have served him right if she’d decided she didn’t want to work for him after all. And, in spite of everything, he wanted her to stay.
With hindsight, he didn’t know what had possessed him to act the way he had. What crazy urge had compelled him to touch her at all when he knew damn well that nothing would—or could—come of it?
OK, he understood his initial reaction when she’d landed on top of him. Having the breath knocked out of you by a warm and nubile young woman could cause a momentary loss of memory, and that was his excuse. Unfortunately, he’d prolonged the offence by holding on to her, by allowing her to believe, however briefly, that he knew what the hell he was doing.
Just because it was the first time his body had reacted normally since he came home from Abuqara, he’d wanted to prove something to himself. In those few seconds, he’d actually imagined what it would be like to ease her down onto the kitchen table and bury himself in her moist flesh, and when reality had intruded he’d fought against it.
Though not for long. His brief arousal hadn’t lasted beyond the point where his brain reasserted itself. Whatever fantasy his body had entertained, his mind soon reminded him what he was capable of and what he wasn’t. And making love with Fliss, however appealing that might seem in theory, clearly wasn’t possible in practice. And he was a fool if he thought otherwise.
Nevertheless, for a few delightful moments, he’d enjoyed the fantasy, and that was what he regretted most. He’d let her think he wanted her, instead of just the dream she represented.
All the same, the memory of how soft her skin had been was a constant irritant. No, not an irritant, he contradicted himself impatiently, a torment. It reminded him of how things had used to be, how he had used to feel. Her mouth had been soft, too, moist and generous, and the intimate brush of her tongue had made him want to do more than just taste her lips.
He wondered if that was a good sign. Surely it had to be, he told himself grimly as he carried a tumbler half-filled with mature single malt out onto the patio that evening. It was significant because he hadn’t felt any such emotions while he was in London. In spite of everything Diane had done to spark his interest, he’d backed away