When Harriet Came Home (8 page)

Adam exhaled. “I thought you and I had cleared up our differences, or am I mistaken?” He shifted his feet, his boots rubbing on the worn floorboards. “I’d hate to think I’m the one keeping you away from Wilmot.”

“No, it’s not you.” She sighed and turned back, reluctant to face him but at the same time wanting to explain herself. “You know, when I handed those photographs of your father to that editor, I thought I was doing the right thing. I guess I never realised there’d be repercussions for me.”

“What kind of repercussions?”

“Your father was a good man, and a lot of people despised me for what I’d done.” She pushed her hands into the pockets of her skirt to hide their unsteadiness. “I got dirty looks and comments wherever I went. One night I was pelted with eggs. I received an anonymous letter telling me in very crude terms what people thought of me—” She hunched her shoulders as the memory sent a shiver down her spine. “I had to leave Wilmot.”

He stared at her, deep disquiet carved across his face. “That’s lousy. I didn’t realise…” His lip curled. “An anonymous letter. That’s such a cowardly act.”

“I’ve never told anyone about the letter, not even my father. You won’t tell him, will you? I just want him to get better, and then I can…”

Get the hell out of here,
she thought.

The line of his mouth tightened. “Harriet, what happened to you was contemptible, but that took place a whole decade ago. You shouldn’t let that keep you away.”

“A whole decade ago, but people still talk.”

“People still talk about my family. I don’t let that stop me.”

“No? Isn’t that why you’re organising this Harvest Ball? So that people will stop talking about the bad stuff and see you for your own accomplishments?”

His eyes flared up in a sudden blaze, and his shoulders stiffened. She thought he would snarl at her. “Touché. I see you’ve found my Achilles heel—my family pride.”

She felt sick to the stomach with her careless words. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Adam, and yet that was what she had just done. “I spoke out of line. I shouldn’t have said that. And you have every right to be proud of your family name.”

“Do I?” His lips twisted. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m too arrogant.”

“If you were too arrogant you wouldn’t be asking yourself that question.”

He gave a bark of laughter, and the tautness in his face eased. “I suppose. Look—you want me to have a look at your car, or do you just want to ring up the garage?”

“I’ve taken up enough of your time. I’ll just ring the garage. They’re getting to know my decrepit hatchback rather well now.”

“The phone’s over at the cottage. I’ll come with you. I could do with a cold drink.”

They walked back to the cottage without saying much. Adam motioned her to the telephone on his desk before heading for the bathroom. Harriet heard him splashing at the basin as she made her call as quickly as possible. She still hadn’t stopped agonising over that awkward fumble on Cindy’s deck, and after their strange conversation at the main house, she felt doubly on edge. She’d revealed too much to him, more than she’d intended, and now she just wanted to get away from him before she embarrassed herself further. She picked up her handbag and was headed for the front door when Adam came out of the bathroom.

“Going so soon?” he asked.

She stopped, rooted to the spot, her brain dissolving at the sight he presented. He was shirtless, a towel slung around his shoulders, droplets of water shimmering on his damp face and neck. Fire licked through her body as she drank in his muscled torso with its sprinkling of dark hair arrowing straight down toward the waistband of his pants.

“Uh…uh…” A bare chest like his should come with a warning label, she thought faintly. “I don’t want to disturb you.”

“You’ve disturbed me already.”

Not as much as you’re disturbing me!
She stared in helpless fascination at a droplet of water as it trickled across the curve of his pectoral muscle. She had a mad urge to lick that droplet, to trace her tongue along its path down his chest.

“The tow truck won’t get here for another fifteen minutes at least.” He rubbed his hair with the towel. He tossed the towel aside and reached for a clean T-shirt slung across the back of an armchair. “I’ve got some cold ginger beer in the fridge. Why don’t you join me?”

She couldn’t do that. If she did, she ran the risk of doing something embarrassing again. Like maybe she wouldn’t be able to control herself, and she’d grab him by the front of his T-shirt and pash the hell out of him. Oh, wouldn’t that be great?

“Thanks, but I think I should go.”

Somehow she’d managed to get herself trapped between the couch and Adam. He blocked the path to the front door, and when he took a step toward her, she faltered back against the couch.

“I think you should stay,” he said.

Her brain wasn’t working properly. What did Adam just say? “I th…think it’s not a good idea.”

He moved even closer. Her butt jammed against the couch, and she had to grab hold of the fabric-covered cushions to keep her balance.

“I think,” he said slowly, “we need to clear the air.”

He took hold of her by the shoulders, his touch firm yet easy. Slowly he leaned in. His head blotted out the light, and then he kissed her. His mouth was warm and persuasive, commanding yet gentle. At first she was too stunned to react, and then her instincts took over. She softened against him and kissed him back, her lips moulding to his pressure, her chin lifting for better access. The kiss was sweet and slow, sizzling and thrilling. His lips were mellow, but she could sense the passion he held back, the fervour building up beneath the tenderness. She forgot who she was, forgot everything and relinquished herself into the kiss. Her knees became jelly, and the blood thumped through her veins as a delicious heat poured through her, turning her bones to slush.

He lifted his head a few inches. His eyes were wide, unsettled, the irises fully dilated. He seemed as surprised as she was. The scent of soap and male lust filled her nostrils.

“Christ,” he said. “You taste good.”

Her head felt heavy and dizzy; her lips throbbed. She swayed against him. The kiss had been sweeter than she’d ever dreamed. Why had he stopped? He shifted his hands to her waist, and a shiver of excitement ran across her skin. She couldn’t think straight, all she could focus on was his hands, his eyes, his mouth.

“S…strange way to clear the air,” she managed to splutter.

His lips curved into a grin. “Come on, admit it. There’s been a weird kind of electricity between us ever since you came back. At first I put it down to what had happened with my dad. But even after we managed to sort that out there’s still something going on between us, some kind of unresolved tension.”

She wasn’t ready to admit anything to Adam. “Is that how you usually deal with unresolved tension? You grab the person and kiss them?”

“And what were you doing with me on Cindy’s deck the other day?” His eyes danced. “If Jarrod hadn’t woken up at the wrong time, I swear you would have been on top of me with your tongue in my mouth.”

Her flush rose to the roots of her hair. He was right, damn him. “You wish! You think I’m so desperate for your charms?”

“Hey, I’m not complaining. I’d love to have you writhing on top of me.”

So she was right! He did think she was some kind of sex-starved madwoman. His sureness inflamed her. She gripped his biceps, intent on shoving him away from her, but the feel of his hot, bare skin ambushed her senses. Desire whirled through her, spinning mayhem through her head.

“Now you are being arrogant,” she retorted.

“And you’re avoiding the truth.” His eyes glinted. “But I like what your hands are saying.”

Oh God!
Was she going mad? Her hands stroked his arms and trailed across his chest. She tried to wrench them away, but they refused to obey her.

She gulped. “We have nothing in common.”

She caught the hem of his T-shirt; her fingers touched his bare stomach, and the feel of his sculpted muscle sent a lightning sizzle through her.

He inhaled deeply. “But we do. We can’t keep our hands off each other.”

His hands slipped under her own shirt and wrapped across her back. He bent his head and captured her mouth again. This time his kiss was more urgent, more masculine, more uncontrolled. The blaze he ignited in her took her by surprise. She arched her back, and he leaned in on her.

The back of the couch dug into her thighs, and then she lost her balance. Bodies twined, their mouths still clinging together, they toppled over the edge of the couch and landed onto the soft, wide cushions. In an instant Adam rolled his lower body over hers, trapping her with his legs. Not pausing for breath, he kissed her some more, long, greedy, blistering kisses, his tongue sliding over hers, his teeth grazing gently over her lower lip. Never had she experienced such an intense embrace. Her breaths came in quick gasps as she returned his kisses feverishly. She stopped thinking about the sheer unbelievable madness of it all. Her logical brain shut down as her body tingled and shuddered with pleasure.

She lifted his T-shirt and explored the terrain of his back, relishing the feel of his taut muscle beneath her fingers. She didn’t resist when his hands slid under her shirt. As he stroked her curves, her eyelids fluttered down, and she felt herself surrendering, turning into hot fudge. He cupped her breasts, and a soft moan escaped her lips. He buried his face in her neck, nipping at her throat, and nudged his knee between her legs. She heard herself whimper with excitement. She was floating away on a steamy, fast-running river.

The cold hard buckle of his belt bit into her belly. It smarted like a bee sting.

Heck! What was going on here? Was she about to become one of Adam’s conquests?

Yes, if his knee between her thighs and his hand on her breast was any guide.

Her brain snapped back into her head so hard it hurt. Her eyelids cracked open. She pushed her palms against the heaving wall of Adam’s chest. “Stop.”

His face was flushed and soft, his breathing ragged as he lifted his head. “Stop?”

She swallowed hard and strained against him. “Stop. Please.”

Confusion flickered through his eyes as he scanned her face. Her expression must have convinced him. He pushed himself off her and leaned against the cushions, his chest still rising and falling.

“Harriet, I—” He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and she noticed his fingers weren’t completely steady. “I wasn’t going to…I wasn’t planning to… Shoot.” He ruffled his hair. “I wasn’t thinking much at all.”

She pulled herself upright. She wished she could rush away, but she doubted she could stand up without collapsing. She cupped her hot cheeks. “We shouldn’t have done this.”

He smiled slowly. “I thought it was very enjoyable.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. What the hell was that smile for? She hunched her shoulder against him. “Don’t get any ideas. I don’t want to end up as yet another easy chalk mark on your scorecard.”

His smile vanished. “What does that mean?”

“Don’t act all innocent. You were such a teenage Casanova at school.”

“You think I’m still the same after all these years?”

“I don’t know!” She yanked down the hem of her shirt. “Are you?”

His face darkened. “No. That guy…he’s long gone.”

“Huh! Is he?” She glared at him. “You used to change your girlfriends more often than you’d change your shirt.”

He stared at her, shook his head. “Why are you so angry with me?”

“I am not angry with you.” She fisted her hands in her lap. Her temples throbbed. She was madder than a cut snake, she realised.

“You look angry. Your left eyebrow is twitching.”

She jumped to her feet and searched wildly around for her handbag. “I’m angry with myself. I don’t want…” She clutched at her mussed-up hair. What did she want? She couldn’t think straight. “I don’t need complications.”

Adam stood up and reached for her, his serious face lightened with a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t go. This isn’t complicated.” He ran his fingers up the length of her arms and his breath fanned her cheeks. “This is very, very simple.”

His voice, his touch tugged at her, and she felt herself unravelling all over again. She gulped, trying to summon up all her remaining will. “No. I have this ball to worry about and my dad recuperating and my mum not coping. The last thing I need is to indulge in some twisted fling with you.”

His fingers stilled around her wrists. “Twisted? What do you mean by that?”

“Don’t you think it’s twisted to be kissing the woman who ruined your life? Who’s responsible for putting you in the caretaker’s cottage?”

His jaw grew rigid. “I’ve told you before I no longer hold you responsible.”

“You’ve just let it all go, have you? All those years of resentment and contempt just—poof!—gone like that.”

“I’m not a vindictive guy.”

“And I’m not just a curiosity to you?”

“Jesus.” He let go of her wrists. “You really must think I’m sick.”

She swallowed down her rising nausea. “No, I don’t think you’re sick, but you seem to think you can go from ignoring my existence, to hating me, to kissing me without a second thought.”

“You’re mad at me because my segue wasn’t smooth enough? You were kissing and touching me just as much!”

“And now I’m not!” She glared at him. “Put it down to a little sickness on my part too. I just had to find out what it was like to kiss that teenage Casanova, but this is where it ends.”

His eyes glinted with challenge. “Oh yeah? Scared to find out where it might lead you?”

Yes, terrified.
She snatched up her handbag where it had fallen behind the couch and marched toward the door. “Don’t confuse me with all your girlfriends—past or present.”

Head held high, she sailed out of his cottage, hoping she’d had the last word. She should have known better. Adam followed her out onto the porch.

“Don’t worry,” he called out as she stalked down the driveway. “It’s hard to confuse you with
any
of my girlfriends—past or present.”