Happy Mother's Day! - By Sharon Kendrick Page 0,68

to his left hand.

‘No, I’m not married,’ he said without looking at her.

Maybe not, but he was spookily perceptive.

‘Which makes it all right for you to be interested, cara.‘

The guilty colour flew to her cheeks. ‘I’m not interested!’

His smile was insolent and so confident that she could have screamed. ‘Of course you’re not,’ he drawled.

‘My God, you really do think you’re God’s gift!’ she choked in disgust, while privately conceding that he had more justification for thinking it than most men. ‘I’m not looking for a holiday romance.’

‘I’m not offering you one.’

He drew up beside a Mercedes and, switching off the engine, ignored the red-faced doorman who was waving his arms energetically.

‘I think he’s afraid you’ll lower the tone.’

The possibility appeared not to bother her chauffeur. His long, curling lashes brushed the angle of his cheeks as his gaze slid speculatively over her slim figure. ‘I scrub up pretty well,’ he revealed modestly. ‘Maybe I’ll show you some time.’

Erin, conscious of her heart thudding hard behind her breastbone, tried to appear amused by the comment. It wasn’t easy when in her head she was seeing him standing naked under the jets of a shower.

Outside on the forecourt a second uniformed figure had joined the near apoplectic footman. Each appeared to be urging the other to approach the truck, but neither seemed too eager to do so. Erin welcomed the diversion.

‘I think they,’ she said nodding out the window, ‘are trying to get your attention.’

His dark eyes remained on her face. ‘You have my attention.’

And I so wish I didn’t!

Erin swallowed. A wave of heat enveloped her as their gazes meshed. ‘Lucky me.’

‘As it happens it was lucky for you that I happened by today.’

‘Oh, gosh, yes!’ She felt stupid for realising that, far from flirting with her, he wanted compensating for his time. A mortified flush spread over her skin. ‘Of course I’ll pay you for your time and the petrol. My wallet is in my room—if you’ll just wait I’ll—’

He caught her arm. ‘I’m not sure you could afford me … but, no matter, you can have this one on the house.’

She shook her head, very conscious of his cool fingers on her overheated skin … Her skin wasn’t the only thing overheated; her imagination was working overtime. Was the sexual tension she was feeling real or a figment of that imagination?

‘Look, I’ve taken a big chunk out of your day. I’m sure there were other things that you needed to do and—’

‘You think I need the money.’ The realisation seemed for some reason to amuse him.

Her eyes slid from his.

‘Don’t worry, I’m a modern man, my male pride can take your pity. Tell you what—how about a compromise?’

‘What sort of compromise?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘You buy me dinner.’

‘Dinner!’ Her startled eyes flew to his.

He nodded. ‘Yes, dinner, at a place of my choice. That’s settled, then.’

‘Settled? I didn’t say yes.’

‘And you didn’t say no. I’ll be in touch about our date.’

‘It’s not a date,’ she protested weakly.

‘Look, I don’t mean to hurry you, but I think I’m about to be thrown out.’ He leaned past her and opened the door. He was so close that she could smell the shampoo he used. She closed her eyes as a rush of hormones made her head spin.

When she opened them his face was still close. Their eyes locked and Erin felt things that were way too complicated to be explained by hormones alone.

‘Yes,’ she whispered in a voice that seemed to be coming from a long way off. ‘Yes, I will buy you dinner.’

Taking her chin in his hand, he brushed his lips against hers. The contact was so soft that she barely felt it, but she melted inside.

‘My name, cara, is Francesco, and I’ll be in touch very soon.’ He nudged the door so that it swung open and leaned back in his seat.

Conscious of his eyes, Erin fumbled with her belt and jumped out, her knees trembling as she walked towards the building.

He’s going to forget you exist the moment he drives away, said the voice in her head.

In retrospect it would have been better that he had.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE minor road Francesco now found himself on was narrow and congested. It was fifteen minutes and several miles later before he found a convenient spot to pull over, a bus stop just on the edge of a village.

There was no breeze and without the air-conditioning running the heat inside the car began to build. Ironically it had been hotter in