Passion & Pleasure. Julia James
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blow his cover. Just so long as it wasn’t her. For some reason, that was important.
Deciding that the netting her father had asked her to get could wait, Fliss pulled her keys out of her pocket and started towards the driver’s door. It had suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t bothered to change before she came out. In a white cotton vest and pink dungarees that fairly screamed their chainstore origins she’d be no match for Diane in her expensive designer gear. She wasn’t a vain woman, but she had her pride.
She had no desire to allow the other girl to embarrass her again. She swung open the car door, but before she could get inside, she heard someone call her name. Matthew Quinn was striding across the tarmac towards her and there was no way she could pretend she hadn’t noticed him.
Once again, she was impaled by the distracting intensity of his gaze, and she found herself turning to press her back against the car, holding on to the handle of the door with nervous fingers.
‘Mr Quinn,’ she said, clearing her throat as her voice betrayed her. But in narrow-fitting chinos and a black T-shirt, he made her nerves tingle, his dark eyes and hard features more familiar than they should have been. ‘How—how are you?’
‘I’m getting there,’ he said drily, regarding her so closely she was sure no aspect of her appearance had gone unremarked. ‘How about you? How’s—what’s its name—Buttons getting on?’
‘Oh—he’s OK.’ Fliss wondered if anyone would believe they were standing here having a conversation about a rabbit. She swallowed, forcing herself to look beyond him. ‘Is Diane with you?’
‘No.’ He didn’t elaborate. ‘Are you heading home now?’
‘Yes.’ Fliss lifted her shoulders awkwardly. ‘You don’t need a lift, do you?’
‘Would you have given me one?’ he enquired, a trace of humour in his voice, and Fliss felt her cheeks heat at the deliberate double entendre.
‘Of course,’ she replied, refusing to let him see he’d disconcerted her. ‘Well, if you don’t need my help…’ She glanced behind her. ‘I suppose I’d better be going…’
‘Do you have time for a coffee?’
If she’d been disconcerted before, his question caught her totally unawares and she gazed at him with troubled eyes. ‘A coffee?’
‘Yeah.’ His mouth turned down. ‘You know, an aromatic beverage beloved of our so-called civilised society?’
‘I know what coffee is,’ she said a little stiffly.
‘Well, then…?’
Fliss hesitated. She was getting the distinct impression that he was already regretting the invitation, but he’d made it now and he’d stand by it.
So why shouldn’t she take advantage of it?
‘All right,’ she said, feeling a little frisson of excitement in the pit of her stomach. ‘Where do you want to go?’
Matthew Quinn frowned. ‘Well, there’s a coffee shop in the supermarket, isn’t there? Or—’ His mouth thinned. ‘We could go back to my place.’
‘The supermarket sounds fine,’ said Fliss hastily, turning to lock the car again. She moistened her lips. ‘If you’re sure.’
‘Why shouldn’t I be sure?’ he demanded, and then sudden comprehension brought a sardonic twist to his mouth. ‘Oh, right. You think I might want to avoid public places, yeah?’
Fliss gave a nervous shrug. ‘It’s your call.’
‘But you know who I am, right?’ he persisted, and she gave him a defensive look.
‘Did you think I wouldn’t?’
‘Perhaps I hoped,’ he admitted, moving closer as another car came to take the slot beside Fliss’s. ‘I guess the whole village is twittering about it.’
‘You flatter yourself!’
Fliss used the retort to put some space between them. The other car had initiated an intimacy she hadn’t expected and she couldn’t deny she was flustered. The brush of his arm against hers had stirred an awareness that pooled like liquid fire in her belly and she was desperate to escape before he realised she was unsettled by his nearness.
‘Do I?’ he asked now, falling into step beside her as she hurried towards the supermarket. ‘How’s that?’
‘Well, I didn’t say anything!’ exclaimed Fliss hotly, feeling an unwelcome trickle of perspiration between her breasts. Rushing about in this heat wasn’t just unwise, it was stupid. ‘If you don’t believe me—’
‘Did I say I didn’t believe you?’ he countered softly. Then hard fingers fastened about her upper arm, bringing her to an abrupt stop. ‘OK, let’s start again, shall we? I know I probably seem paranoid to you and I’m sorry. It’s what comes of spending the last six months trying to pretend I’m normal. Obviously I’m not being very successful.’
Fliss’s eyes widened. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said after a moment. ‘Of course you’re normal. It’s me. I’m too easily offended. But, honestly, I haven’t told anyone who you are.’
His lips twitched. ‘I believe you.’
‘Good.’ Fliss forced a smile, even though she doubted anything he said would slow her pulse. ‘So—do you want to go in?’
Matthew Quinn smiled then, which did nothing for her rattled equilibrium. Yet there was a vulnerability about that smile—as well as a raw sensuality—that seemed to tug almost painfully at her heart.
The fact that he’d actually said nothing to warrant such a reaction disturbed her quite a bit. She had no reason to feel sorry for him, for heaven’s sake. Or was feeling sorry for him her defence? The alternative—that she might be attracted to him—was definitely a more dangerous proposition.
‘You wouldn’t reconsider my offer of coffee at my house,’ he said at last, when she was almost at breaking point. ‘Maybe you’re right; maybe I do flatter myself. But right now, I’ve got no desire to risk being stared at yet again.’
Chapter Four
HE WAS sure she would refuse.
As he released her arm and stepped back from her, he realised he was banking on it. He’d already regretted issuing the invitation, however urgent his motives had been. All he really wanted to do was go home and close his door against the world. He wasn’t up to entertaining anyone. Diane’s visit had proved that. So what in hell was he doing inviting this young woman back to his home and risking his fragile independence yet again?
She was looking at him now, her blue eyes wide and troubled. What was she thinking? he wondered. That she couldn’t trust him? That he was some crazy nutcase who was suffering a bad attack of paranoia? If so, she was probably right.
She looked so innocent, he thought irritably. Which couldn’t be true. What had Diane said? That she’d got herself pregnant at sixteen? Hardly the behaviour of an innocent. And women could effect any number of disguises. Diane had proved that, too.
But this girl was nothing like Diane. He knew that. For one thing, Diane would never go out without make-up, or give so little regard to her appearance. OK, Fliss Taylor’s skin was smooth and creamy and seemed to need little improvement, but her hair clashed wildly with the pink overalls she was wearing, and, judging by the way her breasts moved, she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath that skimpy T-shirt—
Hold it! Where the hell had that come from? It was a long time since he’d even noticed a woman’s breasts.
‘All right,’ she said suddenly, startling him out of his guilty reverie. ‘Let’s do that.’ Was it only his imagination or was she putting a brave front on it, too? ‘I assume you came in your own vehicle.’