The Beautiful Widow - By Helen Brooks Page 0,24

and he felt an edge of anger to his curiosity about what made this dark-eyed, honey-skinned woman tick.

Toni sat hugging the folder of plans and her notes to her chest during the journey as though she needed their protection. Steel wondered what she’d do if he suddenly pulled into a quiet side road and cut the engine, and toyed with doing just that to see her reaction for a second before he had the grace to feel ashamed of himself. But she made him want to do something outrageous, he told himself in justification for his crassness. She was so in command of herself, so restrained. She made him feel like one of the lecherous villains from the old silent movies. He could understand why her opinion of the male sex was at an all-time low, but did she seriously think he was so boorish as to make a move on her in his car of all places?

The thought of having her in the back seat, of making her shake and shiver and moan beneath him as his hands and mouth explored every inch of her delectable body, nearly caused him to drive into a large family saloon. After this Steel gave all his attention to the rush-hour traffic and let his self-induced arousal subside.

When he drew up outside the terraced house where her parents lived Toni opened the door even as he cut the engine. ‘Wait, I’ll help you,’ he offered as she began to scramble out of the car, but by the time he’d walked round to her the inevitable had happened and the plans and papers were all over the pavement.

He bent to help her retrieve them, wincing as their heads collided and then catching her as she stumbled.

‘I’m so sorry.’ She was scarlet. ‘It’s your car, it’s so low.’ And then she blushed still more if that was possible.

He thought it showed remarkable restraint when he didn’t point out that if she had waited as he’d suggested there wouldn’t have been a problem. He managed a creditable laugh. ‘I’ll use the four-by-four next time.’

‘No, I didn’t mean—’

She was still in his arms and every muscle in his body had tightened as evidence of the fact. He looked down at her face, noticing a tiny indentation in her nose—the result of an injury when she was young maybe?—and the way her full lips were slightly apart showing small white teeth. He wondered what she tasted like. Sweet as honey. Without a doubt.

It took more will power than he knew he possessed to resist kissing her, to resist plunging his tongue into the moist, undefended territory of her mouth. He wanted her so badly he was in danger of shaking with the need. The scent of her was warm and inviting, teasing his nostrils, and her hair smelt of summer fruit—peaches, apples perhaps.

He straightened, letting his arms fall to his sides and taking a step away from her before he gave in to the sensual desire turning his blood to liquid fire. She didn’t move, staring at him with huge eyes, her body as still as his. How long they would have stood there he didn’t know, but when the front door to the house opened and shrill shrieks of ‘Mummy!’ broke the unnatural silence that had fallen she reacted with a speed that took him by surprise. One moment she was staring at him with great dark eyes, the next she was meeting the two little girls who ran pell-mell towards her with outstretched arms.

Steel found he was transfixed. It was an effort to raise his gaze to the stout, grey-haired woman in the doorway who called, ‘I’m sorry, dear, but they’ve been watching from their bedroom window for you to come home and once they caught sight of you …’

‘It’s all right, Mum.’ Toni disentangled herself, turning to Steel with a strained smile as she said, ‘These are my children, Amelia and Daisy.’

He’d been right with his second guess. She hadn’t wanted him to meet her children. The knowledge hit at the same time as he acknowledged he was experiencing a feeling of tremendous relief that the twins were tiny copies of their mother, apart from their hair, which was a riot of tight brown curls. He couldn’t see any obvious evidence of the man who had sired them.

‘Hello, Amelia and Daisy,’ he said smilingly. ‘Who is who?’ He crouched down to make himself less intimidating.

‘I’m Amelia. She’s Daisy.’

One of the twins was burying her face