Lessons in Seduction (7 page)

A
dam glanced at Danni sitting stoically behind the wheel, all her attention focused ahead. The atmosphere inside the car was more frigid than outside, and it wasn't because of the snow coating her hair and shoulders. A new tension tightened her jaw that had nothing to do with the deteriorating driving conditions and everything to do with that kiss.

She'd smelled of pine and snow and tasted of the mints she kept in the car, and for a second she had melded with him, her lithe body pressing into his even through the barrier of their clothing. He'd felt her surprise. He'd caught her reciprocated desire. As surprising for her as it had been for him. And for a moment nothing else had mattered.

She had come alive in his arms, fire and light. But
perhaps that was just Danni. She probably made love that way. His groan almost escaped out loud.

He had to stop remembering and reliving the kiss.

He'd messed up. Royally. And he had to make it right. He had to find a way to get things back to the way they were before he'd kissed her.

The kiss that should never ever have happened. The kiss that, in the moment, had seemed like the only right thing in the world. The kiss that had wrenched control from him and plunged him into a place where there was no thought, only sensation and desire.

But as he watched the snow falling outside he knew they had a more immediate issue to sort out first. “How far are we from the chalet?” he asked, his question more brusque than he'd intended. The control was difficult to reclaim. Even now traces of the consuming need lingered, pulsing through him, refusing to be suppressed.

But she was Danni and he would not let himself want her.

The kiss, the desire, was an aberration.

“Twenty-five minutes,” she said quietly, pressing her lips together as soon as she'd spoken.

Those lips. The compulsion to taste her had overwhelmed him. The feeble justification flitting into his mind, that, as of a few minutes ago, she was no longer officially his driver had seemed a valid excuse. And stopping that kiss had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Only her groan of pure desire had cut through the fog of passion, allowing a moment of sanity.

Sweet, sassy Danni kissed like a dream. The most erotic of dreams. The way she'd responded, the way her
mouth had fit his, the feel of her body against his—all had felt…perfect. All had promised forbidden pleasure.

It was afterward that regret had surged in. Once that last shred of sanity had warned him to end the kiss, he'd seen the shock in her eyes and realized what he'd done, the boundaries he'd trampled over, the very wrongness of kissing Danni, no matter how right it had felt.

His responsibility, much as she'd disagree, was to protect her, not to claim her, to assault and insult her. “Let's go to the chalet.” Going to the chalet was the best option given the deteriorating weather, though it carried its own risks being alone with her there. But if he kept duty to the forefront, perhaps it offered him a glimmer of a chance to make it right with her. To get things between them back to a place that was as close to normal as possible. Because otherwise once they got to the palace, they would go their separate ways and he would lose her—their relationship irreparably damaged. Because of him.

He studied her profile, searching for words. He was reputed to be diplomatic. It was failing him now. Had failed him already because that talent ought to have stopped him from getting into this situation in the first place.

He always thought before he acted or spoke.

Always.

Until that moment. And it was all to do with Danni. She stirred him up in ways he couldn't like. She made him forget to think.

“Danni—”

“I don't want to hear it, Adam.”

She had to. They had to clear the air. “It was an accident.”

“What, you slipped and fell and your lips landed on mine?” She shook her head and a slight smile touched her lips.

“I—”

“Just don't. I know everything you're going to say and you don't have to. It shouldn't have happened. We both know that. You're going to try to take all the blame yourself, as though it had nothing to do with me. As though I hadn't wanted it, too. Just once. Just to know. You're going to say we should forget it happened, put it behind us and move forward.”

He wanted to refute her words. But she'd gotten it right.

“So let's do that,” she said. “We'll forget it.” She clenched her jaw and glared at the road ahead.

One of the things they had in common was that neither of them liked to admit an injury or a weakness. Perhaps that would work in their favor here. “Do you really think it's possible? That was no ordinary kiss.” His head still spun, the blood still surged in his veins.

“I'll give you that, it wasn't ordinary. Far from it. And I should probably retract my implication after your date with Clara that there must be something wrong with your technique. Because clearly there's not. But we can leave it at that.”

“Can we?” It was the right thing to do, the only way forward.

“Of course we can. It was a heat-of-the-moment mistake and that moment has passed. It was one minute out of all the years we've known each other. The years should count for more than the minute, don't you think?”

“Yes.”

“So, if you're going to apologize for anything it should be for sacking me.”

“You called me Your Highness.”

“You were being a pompous ass.”

“Good thing you're already fired.”

She grinned, and that small flash of smile lifted a weight from him.

“That's three times now you've sacked me. Each time unjustified.”

“You made me spill coffee on my shirt.”

“I didn't want to hit the pothole.”

The truth had nothing to do with the coffee and everything to do with the look that had passed between them when he'd taken off his shirt. The surge of desire he'd felt for her. She'd only been twenty-one, and his friend, and he hadn't wanted to feel that for her. But he'd stepped away from the friendship anyway. And he'd missed it. Not often, but sometimes in the quiet moments he thought of her.

“So can we talk about something else? Please?”

If she was prepared to try, if she was prepared to move on, then he could, too. “Tell me about the Grand Prix.”

“Thank you.” She sighed her relief, and filled him in on the latest developments in bringing a Grand Prix to San Philippe. And while at first there was an obvious strain to her words, over time, as they talked, it really did become easier, a little more natural. Neither of them had forgotten the kiss, but the conversation, the finding of common neutral ground, gave him hope that the damage wasn't irreversible.

After ten minutes their headlights picked out a sign through the swirling snow. It advertised an inn he didn't
remember seeing before. He glanced at Danni. She wore driving gloves but he was certain that if he could see her hands, her grip would be white-knuckled. And they had another fifteen minutes of driving to go, at least, possibly longer given the speed with which conditions were deteriorating. “Let's try here.”

“But—” Her argument died on her lips and she did as he suggested.

She stopped beneath the portico in front of the Austrian-style chalet. It was smaller by far than the Marconi chalet but offered respite from the driving and shelter from the weather. That was all they needed. That and somewhere he could put some space between them.

“I'll go in and check that they have rooms,” she said, in the guise of chauffeur not friend, as she reached for her door. And maybe chauffeur was safer.

His hand on her arm—a new but hardly significant breach of protocol given what had already happened—stilled her before she could open her door. Despite the thaw of the last ten minutes, he at least, couldn't move on without actually apologizing.

She turned back but only enough that she could look straight ahead through the windshield. “Don't,” she said, reading what was on his mind. “It never happened. We're moving on.”

A sharp tapping on her window startled them both. They turned to see a hulk of a man blocking the window, his face shrouded by the hood of his coat. Danni glanced at Adam and waited for his nod before lowering her window.

“You finally made it,” the man shouted against the gusting wind. “Drive around to the side. I'll open the
garage door.” Without waiting for a response he disappeared back inside.

Danni looked at Adam again, her eyebrows raised in inquiry, hesitation in her gaze, making it his call. He knew he should be grateful that at least she was looking at him with something other than appalled horror. He nodded. “Let's go in.”

“He must be expecting someone else.”

“Well, he's got us. Drive round. Unless you have a better suggestion?”

She radioed their location to the palace and then eased the car around the side of the building and into the garage.

Their host stood waiting. He'd shed his coat but he looked no less of a bear of a man than he had outside. Tall and broad, in need of a haircut and with a furrowed brow. The furrows eased as Danni and Adam got out of the car, and he smiled. “I was beginning to worry you might not make it tonight.”

“We're not who you're expecting.” Adam waited for recognition to dawn on the other man's face.

“That's okay. So long as you can cook.”

From the corner of his eye he saw a flicker of a smile touch Danni's lips. Adam wasn't often expected to be able to cook when he arrived at an inn. “I know a couple of dishes but I have to admit, cooking's not my strong point. We were heading for a chalet further up the mountain—” he didn't say which one “—but saw your sign. And the weather's atrocious out there.”

“Oh.” The single word was disappointment itself. “You're not Simon?”

He shook his head. “Sadly, no.”

“Well, you're here. And you can't go back out. But
the food's not going to be very good.” A hint of an accent colored his words. “My name's Blake by the way. Your accidental host. Should have said that first. It's in the list of instructions in my notebook. But I keep forgetting them.” He absently patted at his pockets. “I'm just looking after this place for a few days so it's all new to me and there are too many things to remember, too many proper ways and wrong ways of doing the simplest of things. They have some high-falutin' guests stay from time to time who apparently have the pickiest expectations. Everything has to be just so, and done in convoluted ways.” His glance took them both in and a smile broke out. “I can tell you two aren't like that.” The smile faded. “Are you?” he finished hopefully.

“Not at all,” Adam said, grateful for their
accidental
host's warmth and rough charm. It covered and eased the tension. “I'm Adam and this is Danni,” he said before Danni could say anything, because she'd taken a deep breath as though about to launch into an explanation. If Blake didn't know who he was, Adam was happy enough to keep it that way. Already the anonymity, when he'd been prepared for any number of different reactions, felt like one less issue to deal with.

“Come on inside. Can't have been pleasant driving in that. I'll get you a drink.” Blake smiled. “That's the one instruction I never forget.”

“I'll just get our bags,” Danni said.

“Wouldn't hear of it. I'll get them.” Blake was at the back of the car retrieving their bags before either of them had time to object. “Here, you take this one.” Blake passed Danni's bag to Adam. He saw her mortification and shook his head. She didn't like him car
rying her bag. But unless she wanted to fight him for it—and for a moment it looked as though she might—she'd just have to deal with it.

“What do you mean by accidental host?” he asked Blake, trying to deflect her attention.

“Crikey.”

That one word told him that Blake was, as he'd suspected, Australian. Danni's smile grew.

“You wouldn't believe the rotten string of luck that's led to me being alone here,” he said as he crossed the garage. “The place is owned by my sister-in-law. It's been in her family for years. She's been coping on her own these last two years since my brother died and has turned it into an inn. I was only coming over for a holiday and to give her a hand when Sabrina—”

He reached an internal door and looked back. “Nah. You don't want to know all that. All you need to know is that people have been breaking their legs and having babies when they shouldn't, and now getting waylaid by weather, so you've got me.”

He led them up a flight of stairs. “We don't have any guests booked in for a couple days. I was expecting the new chef and his wife. The chef was a friend of my brother's. But I have a suspicion that if he was a friend of Jake's—and yes, I know,
Blake and Jake
, what were my parents thinking?” He barely paused for breath but his voice had a surprisingly melodic quality to it that was easy to listen to and Adam tried to focus on that rather than Danni, and the sway of her hips, as she walked up the stairs ahead of him.

Blake reached the top, set Adam's case down and turned to wait for them. “Anyway, if he's a friend of Jake's, chances are he's found himself a tavern and
holed up there. And if I'm right and he has found a tavern, there's no telling when we'll see him, regardless of what the weather does. The useless—”

Blake stopped himself and grinned as Danni and Adam halted in front of him. It was a surprisingly sheepish expression for such a big man. He reached to take Danni's case from Adam. “You should know that at the very top of the list of the instructions Sabrina left for me was to not talk too much. And never ever to swear in front of guests. Written in red. Because I wasn't supposed to deal with the public, really. Simon's wife's going to do that. So, let's just get that drink I talked about. And don't worry, there'll be dinner for tonight and it'll will be warm and tasty if not fancy.” He glanced from the cases at his feet to another set of stairs. “I'll take these up to your room in a jiffy.”