Snowbound Seduction

‘You think I’m a wolf?’ he drawled lazily. ‘Of the big bad variety?’

‘Aren’t you?’ she prevaricated.

‘Not these days.’ Something flashed in the golden eyes and was gone. ‘Although I won’t say I’d be able to resist doing this occasionally.’

His lips had taken hers before she could do anything about it. It was a confident kiss, firm and sexy, his mouth exploring hers with an expertise that was far from chaste. He broke the kiss before she regained enough control to finish it.

‘You prove you’re not a wolf by kissing me?’ she asked, proud of the slightly amused note she managed to inject into her tone, hiding her trembling hands in her lap.

‘Absolutely. A wolf wouldn’t have stopped at a kiss…’

Snowbound Seduction

by

Helen Brooks

www.millsandboon.co.uk

HELEN BROOKS lives in Northamptonshire, and is married with three children and three beautiful grandchildren. As she is a committed Christian, busy housewife, mother and grandma, her spare time is at a premium, but her hobbies include reading, swimming and gardening, and walks with her husband and their two Irish terriers. Her long-cherished aspiration to write became a reality when she put pen to paper on reaching the age of forty and sent the result off to Mills & Boon.

Recent titles by the same author:

SWEET SURRENDER WITH THE MILLIONAIRE

THE MILLIONAIRE’S CHRISTMAS WIFE

THE BOSS’S INEXPERIENCED SECRETARY

MILLS & BOON

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Chapter One

SURELY the run-up to Christmas wasn’t meant to be like this? Driving rain, a bitter wind and everyone looking as though they could do murder. Children all over the world were opening the first little window of their Advent calendars today; there should be excitement and anticipation and a warm snuggly feeling for them at least, even if snow wasn’t provided.

Rachel Ellington looked after the grim-faced mother with two screaming toddlers and a baby in a pushchair who had just elbowed her out of the way with such force it had hurt. And the harassed mother wasn’t the only one with a face like thunder. The pavement was full of sullen schoolchildren with huge bags and even huger attitude; power-dressed commuters of both sexes hunched against the spray from passing traffic as they used their umbrellas like weapons; and a group of students jostling each other in a manner that suggested a fight might break out as they waited in a bus queue that stretched for ever.

Rachel glanced in the shop window she was passing and an enormous Father Christmas with a sack of gaily wrapped presents and a somewhat hideous grin stared back at her. It had been there since October, along with the fairy-lights and tinsel and Christmas tree.

Of course, that was half the trouble. The TV advertisements and shops and all levels of commerce began to whip up seasonal jollity so far in advance that by the beginning of December it was all used up. She grimaced as she realized she sounded just like her mother. But it was true, she thought, trying to ignore the drips of freezing water trickling down her neck. She’d forgotten her umbrella this morning—again.

She wouldn’t go as far as her mother, who advocated a return to the days when the tree was dressed and decorations put up not an hour before Christmas Eve, and children should be presented with a stocking containing an orange, apple and nuts, along with a shiny coin and one present only, but there was something to be said for the old days when the latest ‘must-have’ toy costing an arm and a leg had been unheard of. And when a man saying ‘I love you’ meant more than just a nicety before getting you into bed.

She stood stock still as she realized what she’d just thought, causing major chaos for a moment as the people behind cannoned into her and each other.

Where had that little piece of cynicism sprung from? she asked herself as she apologised all round and started walking again. She was over Giles, she had been for months. And after the first caustic, devastating weeks in the summer when she had felt the whole world knew she’d been taken for a fool by the man she’d thought she’d be spending the rest of her life with, she’d become aware Giles had hurt her pride more than her heart. Which had caused her a few more sleepless nights. How could she imagine herself madly in love to the point of accepting his proposal of marriage one minute, and then be glad he was out of her life the next? It was positively scary when you thought about it.

Not that it had exactly been the next minute, she qualified silently. She’d endured a few hellish weeks before that had come about, crying herself to sleep each night and losing nearly a stone in weight, which had given her a scrawny alleycat look. Already too thin by her own estimation it had been the spur she’d needed to start eating again, and she’d indulged in chocolate éclairs and other calorie-packed treats by the bucketful until her modest curves were back. Jennie and Susan, her flatmates, had been green with envy, which had been infinitely preferable to their pity of the preceding weeks.

As she turned off the main thoroughfare into the maze of side streets that eventually led to the tiny mews in Kensington where her flat was situated, a gust of wind and rain almost blew her off her feet. She normally enjoyed the brisk fifteen-minute walk home from the office but tonight was an ordeal. She should have travelled by tube but she had an aversion to the underground at the best of times, and a rainy December day with damp bodies steaming and lethal umbrellas by the hundreds definitely wasn’t the best of times to journey in one of the packed rush-hour trains.

By the time she turned the key in the lock of the door of the downstairs flat she’d shared with her two best friends since the three of them had left university five years before, she was soaked to the skin. Her hair was plastered to her scalp, her mascara had run in rivulets down her cold cheeks and she was frozen to the marrow. She wanted nothing more than to lie in a scalding-hot bath for an hour with a glass of wine and a good book, and as she was always home long before Jennie and Susan, there was no reason she shouldn’t.

She almost fell into the small square hall and stood for a moment with her eyes shut. Today had been a foul day altogether. After leaving university with a very acceptable 2.1 in business studies and marketing, she had obtained a post as assistant to the marketing manager of a fast-food chain. The pay was excellent and she knew her strengths were a keen awareness of client needs and a very good business sense, along with a natural flair for organising and planning. Unfortunately, on the latest project the sales team had failed to adequately follow up their part of the master plan, but due to a catalogue of half-truths and downright lies, it had been she who’d been left with egg on her face when the whole job had collapsed.

Rachel pulled off her sodden coat and kicked off her shoes, the memory of her manager Jeff’s face when he’d taken her to task earlier that afternoon humiliatingly vivid. He’d been livid, having had a roasting from the managing director himself, and hadn’t listened to a word she’d said in her defence.

She had entered the marketing world knowing promotion could be fast, but her chosen career was not for the faint-hearted: pressures were intense and security was mostly non-existent. She had been earmarked to take on Jeff’s role when he transferred to the northern branch of the company early in the new year, but whether that would happen now was anyone’s guess.

She frowned fiercely. All in all, she wouldn’t be sad to see the back of this year and Christmas was going to be an endurance test. She had met Giles at a daytime Christmas party her firm had held for clients past and present the previous year, and they’d had their first date that same evening. This Christmas was going to give rise to some unwelcome memories.

‘Hi, there.’

The deep male voice caused her to jump violently, and as an involuntary gasp left her lips, she looked up to see a tall, dark stranger standing in the doorway of the sitting room. Her heart thumping so hard she put a hand to her chest to contain it, she bit out, ‘Who on earth are you and what are you doing in my flat?’ as her mind raced. What was within reach to defend herself with? Only her handbag, and much as she loved the sweet little red bow bag Jennie and Susan had bought her for her last birthday, it was hardly the stuff to strike terror into a burglar’s heart.

There had been a spate of break-ins in the area over the last months and always when the householders were at work. Only last week one occupant of the mews had returned home to find her place being ransacked and the assailant had turned very nasty.

‘Hey, it’s OK.’ The male voice was lazy. ‘Don’t panic.’

As he moved a pace or two towards her, Rachel felt in her bag for her perfume. ‘This is a pepper spray and you come one step closer and you’re getting it in the face,’ she grated with more aggression than she was feeling. In truth she was scared to death. He was so big and broad. She hadn’t turned the hall light on when she’d come in and he’d clearly just put a lamp on in the sitting room because the chink of light coming through the half-open door was so dim it merely shrouded him in shadow. Nevertheless, she could see she’d stand no chance.

‘Let me give you a tip,’ he said mildly. ‘If you’re going to use something like pepper spray, it’s best not to give a warning. The element of surprise is crucial.’

He was now so close she could see his features and she received her second shock of the evening. As burglars went, this one was to die for. She already knew he was tall and dark, now add handsome multiplied by ten. Black hair, straight nose, firm sensual lips, and his eyes…She stared into the heavily lashed golden-brown gaze almost mesmerized. Pulling herself together, she said icily, ‘Now, look here—’

‘The name’s Zac Lawson.’ He said it as though it would clarify everything, and when she still continued to hold herself tense and at the ready, he added, ‘Jennie’s cousin? She called you and Susan earlier to explain.’

‘Explain?’ she echoed a little vacantly. The tawny eyes were compelling. Too compelling, a separate part of her mind stated ominously. Whoever he was, this man had more than his fair share of magnetism. Just like Giles. And like Giles, she had the feeling he’d use it to his advantage without any compunction whatsoever. Not reassuring in the circumstances.

‘Have you checked your mobile recently?’ he said patiently.

A little too patiently, Rachel thought critically. His voice carried more than a touch of long-suffering in its velvet depths. And, of course, today would be the day she’d turned her mobile off when she’d been called in to Jeff’s office for her dressing-down and forgotten to turn it on again.

Stiffly, she said, ‘I’ve been extremely busy.’

He nodded. A fairly benign action and his face was quite impassive, so why she should find the movement so offensive Rachel wasn’t quite sure. Perhaps it was his resigned air?

‘I’m Jennie’s cousin,’ he said again in the same patient tone. ‘Our families lived in the same street while we were growing up so we saw a lot of each other before my parents moved to Canada when I was sixteen and Jennie was eleven. I’m over here on business for three weeks, and when I rang Jennie to say hi she insisted I have dinner with you all tonight.’

That explained the smoky, sexy burr to his voice. She hadn’t been able to place the accent, it was so slight, but it added to his overall attraction a hundredfold. Not that she was attracted to him, she added hastily. She’d had her fill of arrogant, handsome charmers and Jennie’s cousin seemed full of himself.

‘I called in at Jennie’s office and picked up her key earlier—she insisted the flat was a better place to chill out after the flight than a hotel room,’ he continued lazily. ‘I’m afraid I’ve been dead to the world on the sofa.’

Rachel forced a stiff smile. ‘That’s fine.’ Remembering her manners, she added, ‘Can I get you a drink?’ as she reached out and switched on the light.

She became conscious of several things at the same time. Jennie’s cousin was even more devastatingly gorgeous now she could see him properly. There was a touch of grey in the black hair above his ears but it only increased the male magnetism, and the golden gaze was truly spellbinding in the bright light. She had never seen another person with eyes like his. Secondly, those same eyes were surveying her with definite amusement. Thirdly, his clothes—not to mention the gold Rolex on one tanned wrist—screamed wealth and taste, and lastly—but most importantly—she looked like something the cat wouldn’t deign to drag in.

Ignoring the puddle of water that had formed at her feet, she kept the smile on her face through sheer willpower. ‘A glass of wine?’ she persevered. ‘Or I think we have a bottle of brandy somewhere. Or perhaps you’d prefer coffee or tea?’ she added graciously, the effect being somewhat spoilt when she shivered convulsively and then sneezed three times.

His voice had gentled to the tone one would use with a very young child. ‘Why don’t you go and change out of those wet clothes while I fix us both some coffee? I think of the two of us you’re in need more than me right at this moment.’

She couldn’t deny it, with her teeth chattering loud enough to wake the dead. Besides which, she wanted nothing more than to escape those lethal eyes and make herself presentable. She had never fooled herself she could compete with Jennie’s dark-eyed voluptuous beauty or Susan’s delicate blonde appeal. Her own brown hair and blue eyes were fairly nondescript in her opinion, but looking like a drowned rat was something else.

Clinging onto the shreds of her dignity, Rachel nodded brightly. He had said and done nothing wrong, not really, and she didn’t know why she had taken such an instant dislike to Jennie’s cousin, but she had. Nevertheless, he was a guest and she knew her manners. ‘Thank you. The coffee and sugar pots are on the breakfast bar and there’s a fruit cake in the cake tin in the cupboard. Side plates and mugs are—’

‘I’ll find everything. Why don’t you have a hot bath?’

Now his voice was distinctly soothing as he interrupted her and it made her want to kick him. Feeling more than a little unnerved by the strength of her own feelings and completely out of her depth, she decided retreat was the only option. ‘I won’t be long,’ she managed as she left for the bathroom. ‘Please make yourself at home.’ As if he hadn’t already.

Rachel forwent the hot bath for a warm shower, stuffing her wet clothes in the laundry basket before pulling on the towelling robe she kept on a peg behind the bathroom door and padding through to the bedroom she shared with Jennie to dry her hair. When the three of them had moved into the flat it had been agreed Susan would occupy the tiny second bedroom owing to the fact she snored—loudly.

The ravages of her make-up having been removed in the bathroom, she applied fresh eye shadow and mascara before drying her hair whilst sitting at the small dressing table. She left her thick shoulder-length hair loose, she hadn’t got time to fiddle with it, and quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a warm sweater, surveying herself in the full-length mirror on the wall before she left the room.

Better, but then, anything would be better than the sight she had presented in the hall. What must he have thought? And then she answered herself sharply. It didn’t matter what Zac Lawson thought. Not one little bit. And as soon as she possibly could after dinner, she was claiming a headache and leaving the rest of them to it. Polite conversation she could do without.

She could smell coffee when she exited the bedroom and as though he had some sort of X-ray vision that could see through brick walls, Zac appeared in the doorway to the sitting room. ‘Just in time,’ he said, as though she were the guest and he was the householder. ‘Come and have some coffee and cake.’

Rachel found she was gritting her teeth as she followed him into the room, and then tried to compose her features into a more acceptable expression as he turned and indicated the tray on the coffee table. ‘There was milk and cream in the fridge so I brought both, along with a tin of coffee whitener I found.’

How thorough. Knowing she was being uncharacteristically bitchy, Rachel cleared her throat. ‘I take mine black.’

‘Really?’ He stared at her as he passed her a mug.

She’d surprised him. Good. She had the feeling women didn’t surprise Zac Lawson too often. He had the confident aura of a man who had the world in general pretty much taped.

When she cut them both a piece of cake and her slice was as large as his, she knew she’d surprised him for the second time in as many minutes. She answered the raised eyebrow with a shrug. ‘Fast metabolism.’

One corner of his slightly stern and very sexy mouth twisted. ‘I bet the other girls love you when they’re chomping on lettuce and you’re tucking into the full McCoy and still looking like a model, fast metabolism or not.’

Looking like a model? Was he being sarcastic? She stared at him. He had the sort of face it was impossible to read. Coolly, she said, ‘Hardly.’

‘They don’t mind?’

He was definitely being deliberately obtuse. ‘I meant I hardly look like a model,’ she said even more coolly, taking a bite of cake and hoping he’d take the hint and leave well alone.

He settled back in the comfy armchair that faced the sofa where she sat, arms stretched out along the back of the seat and one leg crossed over the other knee. It was a very masculine pose. He was a very masculine man. The tawny eyes moved over her face. She could feel them even though she was concentrating on the plate on her lap.

‘You look perfect model material to me,’ he said mildly.

Was he teasing her or flirting or what? Whatever, she so wasn’t doing this. Regretting that she’d let him see he’d got to her and wishing she’d just let it go in the first place, Rachel forced a smile. ‘Well, I haven’t been spotted by a talent scout to date and I’m perfectly happy with the day job.’ Even to herself she sounded overly facetious. A little desperately now, she added, ‘What is it you do, by the way?’

He didn’t comment on the clumsy change of conversation. Demolishing half his slice of cake with one bite, he chewed and swallowed at leisure before he said, ‘I work in the family glass-making business back home in Canada. Have done since uni.’

Unexpected. In spite of herself, Rachel was intrigued. ‘Really? That’s a very old industry, isn’t it?’ She’d had him down as a modern whizz-kid, all bells and whistles and something mega in the city.

‘It goes back some,’ he agreed lazily, finishing his cake before he continued, ‘The Canadian side of the family have had their own business for over a century and it’s been handed down through the generations. Most glass-making firms, like other old industries, have been taken over by large manufacturing groups. We’re one of the few family businesses still going, which is the main reason my father moved us to Canada when I was a youth. He’d had a falling out with his father—my grandfather—when he was a young man and left Canada for England. My grandfather had his first heart attack when I was sixteen and my grandmother begged my father to return. There was a kind of a reconciliation and, as my father was their only child, he agreed to return permanently and take over.’

Intrigued, she said, ‘What was the falling out about?’ before blushing violently as she realised how nosy that sounded. ‘I’m sorry,’ she added hastily before he could speak. ‘It’s none of my business. You really don’t have to answer that.’

‘No problem. My father met my mother when she was holidaying in Canada and it was one of those rare instant for-ever things. My grandfather thought my father ought to marry the daughter of some friends of theirs, apparently the two sets of parents had planned it for years. The girl was willing, my father wasn’t. He’d already made his feelings plain before he met my mother, but my grandfather wasn’t used to being thwarted. He’s an irascible old man when he gets the bit between the teeth, as he often does.’

‘He’s still alive?’

‘Very much so. Three heart attacks to date, mainly, so my grandmother insists, because of his temper. Anyway, there were harsh words on both sides and my father followed my mother to England and married her. It was twenty-five years before my grandfather and father spoke again. The Lawson males are a stubborn lot, it’s in the genes.’ He smiled.

She didn’t doubt it. There was something in the square jaw that told her Zac was no different from the rest of them.

It was cosy in the small sitting room, which was still dimly lit. Rain was lashing at the window and the flickering flames from the gas fire cast the hard male face into moving planes and angles. Rachel shivered, though not from cold. There was something infinitely…unsettling about Jennie’s Canadian cousin. Undoubtedly he was very sure of himself, he exuded an arrogance that set her teeth on edge, but it was more than that—quite what, she didn’t know.

‘So you’re over here on business for a while?’ she said when the silence became uncomfortable. On her part at least. Zac appeared perfectly relaxed as he finished his coffee.

‘Uh-huh.’ He smiled, the tawny eyes glittering in the dim light. ‘That cake’s pretty good.’

She took the broad hint and cut him another hefty slice. As she did so his mobile phone rang and he glanced at it before saying, ‘Do you mind if I answer this?’

‘Of course not.’ At least it would delay having to make conversation for a while. As she rose to give him some privacy, he said quickly, ‘No, please stay,’ before speaking into the phone, ‘Hi, Sarah. How are things going there?’

The girlfriend? She muttered something about things to see to in the kitchen and made her escape. Of course, he could be married. He wasn’t wearing a ring but lots of men didn’t.

They were having shepherd’s pie for dinner, which Jennie had prepared the night before, it being her turn on kitchen duty that week, and there was ample for four. Glancing at the clock, Rachel put the pie in the oven and sliced some fresh carrots and broccoli, trying not to strain her ears to catch what was being said in the sitting room. She heard him laugh, a warm, rich sound, and paused for a moment before reaching for the pot of double cream in the fridge and tipping it into a bowl. Once the electric mixer was going, it drowned out any sound from the sitting room, and when the cream peaked she put the finishing touches to the raspberry trifle Jennie had designated for dessert. As she did so, Zac appeared in the doorway.

‘You needn’t have left,’ he said quietly. ‘It was only my secretary reporting on things at the office.’

His secretary? Things had sounded mighty cosy; perhaps he mixed business and pleasure? ‘I needed to see to the dinner,’ she said as she gave herself a mental slap. What business was it of hers if Zac was sleeping with his secretary? Giles had been sleeping with his too but the irony there was that she was his wife—a little fact he’d omitted to mention when he’d met her. And when he’d proposed. She’d only found out he was married when his wife had turned up on her doorstep one evening, having learnt of their relationship through a friend of a friend of a friend.

She didn’t know if it made it better or worse that she wasn’t the only woman he’d fooled about with since his marriage eight years before, but she had believed his wife absolutely when she’d told her the cold facts. She was just amazed Melanie had stuck with him so long. Giles’s wife had been nice, the sort of woman she could have been friends with in different circumstances. Much too nice for a rat like Giles.

‘You OK?’ Zac shifted in the doorway.

Too late she realised her always too-expressive face had given her away. ‘Fine,’ she said with a careless shrug, hoping he’d take himself back to the sitting room. ‘I’ll come and join you in a minute,’ she added pointedly, turning to the dirty breakfast dishes in the sink and filling the washing-up bowl with hot, soapy water. ‘The others should be back soon.’

To her horror he had joined her in the next moment, tea towel in hand. The kitchen wasn’t large as it was, but with his height and breadth dwarfing her it had suddenly got a whole lot smaller. ‘No.’ It came out too sharply, and she modified her tone when she said, ‘You’re a guest. I wouldn’t dream of letting you dry up,’ hoping she didn’t sound as flustered as she felt, although she knew it was a vain hope.

Looking relaxed and slightly amused, he murmured, ‘I’ve no problem with working for my supper.’

‘No, really, I mean it.’ She stood guard over the dishes.

‘So do I.’ He smiled easily but his tone was cooler.

Rachel jutted out her chin like a teenager. This was ridiculous. It was her kitchen. ‘This is too small a room, only one person at a time works in here. We’ve got a rota…’ That sounded silly. ‘And,’ she said truculently, ‘I’ve got my own way of doing things.’

‘How difficult is it to get it wrong when you dry dishes?’

‘I’ll bring you a glass of wine through in a minute,’ she said, purposely not answering him, ‘and Jennie will be home any moment. She’ll expect you to be sitting watching TV.’

‘I think she’d survive the shock nonetheless.’

It was useless arguing with him but neither was she going to give in. She was blowed if she was going to let another Giles tell her what to do. She stood, straight and stiff and without glancing at him until she heard him leave the kitchen. Then she let her body sag. Damn, damn, damn. Now she felt awful. She was never intentionally rude and he was Jennie’s cousin after all, but why couldn’t he take a hint? Irritating, awkward man.

Without considering what she was going to say, she marched through to the sitting room. He was standing with his back to the room looking out of the window into the dark, stormy night.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said without any preamble. ‘I sounded rude and I didn’t mean to be. It’s just that—’

‘You don’t like me for some reason,’ he finished for her, turning round and pinning her with the golden gaze. ‘Right?’

Lost for words, Rachel shook her head helplessly. ‘I don’t know you,’ she prevaricated at last.

‘No, you’re right, you don’t,’ he said softly, but with an iron edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. ‘If you did know me and you’d still come to that conclusion, it wouldn’t matter.’ He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘As it is, I guess it still doesn’t matter, but I’d appreciate you trying to be civil this evening for Jennie’s sake, if nothing else.’

Her temper rising, she stared at him. ‘Of course I’ll be civil. I told you, I didn’t mean to be rude.’ Her words were clipped, frosty. How dared he tell her what to do in her own home?

She thought she saw the hard mouth twitch for a moment. ‘That’s very reassuring.’

He was laughing at her again. How dared he? But the hot words quivering on her tongue fortunately never got said. Jennie chose that moment to open the front door of the flat, calling out, ‘Zac? Are you here?’ as she entered the hall.

Rachel saw her friend’s eyes widen when they took in the tall handsome man her cousin had become, and then, in true Jennie style, she’d flung herself into Zac’s arms and planted a smacking kiss on his mouth before he had a chance to object.

Not that he would have objected, Rachel told herself as she left them to it, murmuring something about opening a bottle of wine. Jennie was gorgeous with her black hair and dark brown eyes and the sort of Marilyn Monroe figure that turned men on from schoolboys to geriatrics. And she was between men at the moment, having just dumped her latest boyfriend. They never lasted long with Jennie, she bored easily.

When she re-entered the sitting room Jennie had drawn Zac down beside her on the sofa and was asking about the family, one hand resting on his arm as she gazed up into his face. Rachel knew that look. And when Jennie set her sights on a man they didn’t stand a chance. It normally amused her when Jennie went into her femme fatale role. Tonight, though, she felt rattled and disturbed. She was careful to give no sign of her feelings when she poured the wine, filling the fourth glass on the tray when Susan’s key sounded in the lock.

Susan joined them, slender, beautiful Susan with her white blonde hair and the face of an angel, smiling charmingly and saying all the right things as Jennie introduced her to Zac. And Zac was as charming back. He’d stood up when Susan had entered the room and now displayed the most perfect manners, his conversation witty and amusing as they sipped at their wine.

Rachel sat watching the other three and said little, she didn’t need to. Jennie and Susan and Zac were getting on like a house on fire. She felt a growing sense of déjà vu but she didn’t have to search her mind long for the cause. How often in the past, before she’d escaped the family home for university, had she sat and watched her two older sisters be the life and soul of the proceedings while she’d sat dumbly by? Dozens of times. Hundreds probably. And yet every time had hurt just as much.