by Penny Jordan
* * *
‘I’m off now,’ Piers told his partner, briefly popping his head round Jason’s office door.
‘Mmm... Thanks for sorting out that problem for me,’ Jason told him. ‘Sorry to drag you away from your house-hunting. Have you found anything suitable yet, by the way?’
‘I’ve got the details of a couple of hopefuls,’ Piers told him cautiously.
He had, in fact, made appointments to discuss both properties later in the afternoon with the agents, prior to making appointments to view them, which was why he was so anxious to leave the city and drive back to Wrexford. Both properties were large and set in extensive grounds. One of them was a modern home, purpose-built by an architect for contemporary living, whilst the other was a large Georgian farmhouse set in several acres of land and badly in need of restoration.
Common sense suggested that the modern property would be the one to go for, but Piers couldn’t get out of his mind a mental image of Georgia’s face if she were asked to choose between the two properties. There was no doubt which one she would go for. The farmhouse just cried out to be filled with a happy tumble of children and pets, and there was certainly enough scope within the existing muddle of neglected rooms to convert one of them into a large, welcoming, family-sized kitchen, complete with flagged floors and a heart-warming Aga.
Flagged floors! Agas! Children! Pets! Since when had any of those been on his particular priority list?
What was happening to him? Why should one kiss shared with a woman whom logic told him he had absolutely nothing whatsoever in common with suddenly contaminate his plans for the future in much the same way that a bug could contaminate a computer system?
It had initially irritated him and then bemused him just how often Georgia had stolen her way into his thoughts over the last few days, appearing in them when she had no right to do so, when there was no logical or rational purpose in her being there.
On several occasions he had been on the point of telephoning her—just to check that that irresponsible hound hadn’t totally wrecked his godmother’s home, of course. There had been nothing personal in the impulse wilfully whispering to him that he needed to speak with her. It was just his sense of responsibility, his duty that had urged him to do so.
Just as it was his sense of responsibility that had urged him to return to Wrexford earlier than he had planned and to view a property which rationally he knew was totally unsuitable for his purposes.
Older property always sold well, though, he argued with himself. Prospective buyers fell in love with the notion of a traditional country farmhouse and a traditional country lifestyle. And so, mentally, Piers rationalised his decision to view a property which intellectually he knew filled none of the criteria he had drawn up for his house purchase.
By rights Georgia had no place in his thoughts at all other than as the scheming young woman who had palmed Ben off on his unsuspecting godmother. By rights he had every reason to feel suspicious and wary of her, and that, of course, was really why he had cut short his time in the city to return to Wrexford. His decision was in no way whatsoever connected with those vivid mental flashes he had had of Georgia’s tousled curls and her violet-blue eyes, nor with the innocent sensuality of the arousal he had seen so openly expressed in the shocked darkness of those eyes after he had kissed her. No way at all... Not one tiny little bit...
The very idea of repeating that unplanned kiss was a complete anathema to him, and as for those other and far more intimate thoughts and desires which had somehow or other wormed their way into his subconscious—well, they were most definitely not anything he had any wish whatsoever to pursue—ever—either in the mental privacy of his own thoughts or the physical privacy of his bedroom.
* * *
‘Good boy...oh, good dog, Ben,’ Georgia praised enthusiastically as Ben obligingly sat on command.
They were on their way back from a long walk along the river and then through some fields, following the well-marked footpath. Now, though, it was time to get down to some serious work, and as they got within sight of Mrs Latham’s Georgia told herself happily that Ben was quite definitely showing signs of improvement.
Next week she had actually booked herself off some days’ leave so that she could spend even more time working with him, and now, as she paused to bend down and stroke him and praise him a third time, she was beginning to feel increasingly optimistic about the outcome of the challenge she had accepted.
Happily anticipating the moment when Piers would have to eat humble pie and Ben would reveal himself to be a perfectly trained and obedient dog, Georgia was unaware of the geese who had decided to land on the large pool the river formed in front of the house, just as she was also unaware of the sleek dark maroon Jaguar that belonged to Piers, or the fact that Piers was driving towards her.
The first intimation she had of impending disaster was when Ben suddenly took off, jerking so hard on his lead that she was tugged with him, completely missing her footing as she tried to pull him back, mistaking the boggy edges of the river bank for solid ground and then gasping out loud in shock as the earth gave way beneath her and she tumbled into the river after Ben.
The geese who had unwittingly precipitated Ben’s flight took off in a flurry of wings and noisy honks whilst Georgia, standing almost knee-deep in the water, made an anxious grab for Ben’s lead as he attempted to swim after the geese, but missed it and had to resort to paddling into the river after him. To her relief, once he realised the geese had actually gone he stopped, giving Georgia a commiserating doggy smile as she caught up with him, as though he assumed that she was as disappointed that the fowl had escaped as he was himself.
‘Oh, Ben,’ Georgia protested ruefully.
Both of them were soaking wet, but she expected that Ben looked far better than she did.
Wearily she fished for his lead, and then, having found it, firmly marched him towards the bank.
As Ben scrambled on to dry land and she followed suit the first thing to catch Georgia’s eye was the immaculate car parked only yards away.
A horrible sense of doom sat unpleasantly in her stomach. That car was Piers’s and there was Piers himself, getting out of the driver’s seat and walking determinedly towards them.
‘Ben,’ Georgia called out frantically, but it was too late. Ben too had seen Piers, and recognised him.
Georgia winced as she saw the wet dog launch himself enthusiastically towards Piers. She couldn’t bear to look—couldn’t bear to see the effect of so many pounds of wet, muddy dog on Piers’s immaculate person. Despairingly she waited for Piers’s vocal fury, but then when she heard nothing other than a very stern, ‘Sit,’ she opened her eyes warily and saw, to her astonishment, that Ben was sitting obediently a yard away from Piers, watching him. Georgia had to admit that Piers was made of stern stuff as he didn’t hesitate to take hold of the wet, slimy lead, his mouth hardening to a wry grimace as he studied the even wetter dog, but the expression in his eyes was nothing to the one she could see there when he finally turned his head in her direction.
For a moment Georgia almost expected him to repeat the command to her that he had just given to the dog. Then the nippy little wind that seemed to have sprung up out of nowhere brushed her water-chilled body and she gave a small convulsive shudder, her teeth starting to chatter, and Piers said abruptly,
‘Inside...’
‘It wasn’t Ben’s fault...’ Georgia started to tell him in between shivers as she had to half run to catch up with his long strides as they headed for the house. ‘He’d been behaving beautifully, and—’
‘Beautifully?’ Piers swung round as he started to unlock the door and stated grimly, ‘He damn nearly drowned you and—’
‘No! It was an accident; he just caught me off guard...’ Georgia protested.
‘And if it had been my godmother he had caught off guard?’ Piers demanded flatly as he pushed open the door.
Georgia bit her lip. Piers did have a point.<
br />
‘Upstairs and into a hot bath,’ Piers told her curtly.
‘I don’t...’ Georgia began, fully intending to tell him that she wasn’t a child and that she didn’t need him to tell her what she ought to do, but then she had to stop as she felt a huge sneeze overwhelming her, and she could see from the expression in Piers’s eyes that he wasn’t going to listen to any arguments. Besides, the thought of a delicious warm bath chasing the icy chills from her cold body was too tempting to resist. Even so...
‘Ben needs drying...’ she said, but Piers shook his head.
‘I’ll deal with Ben,’ he told her grimly.
For a moment Georgia hesitated. Ben was soaking wet and needed rubbing dry, and he hadn’t had his evening meal as yet, but then another huge sneeze overwhelmed her, at the same time as Piers took what almost looked like a small, threatening step towards her, and instinct took over. She was in the hallway and halfway up the stairs before she knew it.
In the kitchen Piers found the towels that his godmother used for just such a purpose to briskly rub Ben dry. The dog quite happily stood still whilst Piers dried him, even, a little to Piers’s surprise, obligingly lifting his paws so that they too could have the river mud removed from them.
In fact, as Piers was forced to admit, Ben’s manners whilst Piers performed these unplanned chores was nothing short of exemplary, even to the extent of going immediately and obediently to his bed when Piers commanded him to and waiting there patiently whilst Piers prepared his food.
Was it a coincidence or had Georgia made far more progress with the dog’s training than Piers had anticipated?
Georgia! Piers’s mouth tightened into a stern line as he recollected the moment when he had seen her being dragged into the river. Despite the fact that he knew perfectly well that it was safely shallow at that point, Piers had had to resist a serious urge to go in after her, but whether or not that urge had been caused by a desire to rescue her or a strong temptation to drown her, he didn’t know. More likely drown her, Piers told himself irritably. He had never known anyone cause such havoc in his life before. It was becoming increasingly obvious to him that wherever Georgia and Ben went trouble automatically seemed to follow, but that didn’t mean that he had to be on hand to rescue them or protect them. Why should he?
Ben was his godmother’s dog, he reminded himself immediately. He had promised her that he would look after him for her, and if looking after him meant that he also had to look after the irritating young woman who had dared to challenge his determination to remove Ben from his godmother’s life, then so be it. And it was absolutely totally impossible for him to have any kind of hidden motivation or secret subconscious agenda for his decision to bring Georgia closer into his own orbit.
Having her living here in the house with him had been a totally logical decision—given all the circumstances. True, it might have been a little foolish of him to allow her to provoke him into giving her the opportunity to prove him wrong about Ben—not that there was any possibility that she could do so. It was obvious to anyone that the dog was a totally unsuitable pet for his godmother. No, it had simply been his fair-mindedness that had forced him to at least give her the opportunity to prove him wrong. That was all. That was totally and completely all, and, of course, it wouldn’t have made any difference whatsoever to his decision had she been a different type of woman...
Piers frowned as he realised how long Georgia had been upstairs and how quiet it was. She had been shivering when they’d come inside, quite plainly suffering from cold and shock. Frowning even more fiercely Piers filled the kettle.
It wasn’t his duty to look after her. She wasn’t his responsibility. The kettle was starting to boil; swiftly he spooned coffee into a mug and added a generous spoonful of sugar.
* * *
Never had a bath felt so welcome and restorative, Georgia felt sure as she lay floating blissfully in the piping-hot water. She had washed her hair under the shower and also rinsed off the worst of the river water, but the temptation to soothe her chilly body in the warm water of a deep-filled bath had proved too tempting to resist—as had her impulse to add a few drops of her favourite relaxing aromatherapy oil.
Now its heavenly scent mingled with the warm, steamy atmosphere of the bathroom, totally releasing all the tension from her body...her body, but not her thoughts, she acknowledged as she reflected ruefully on the unwelcome outcome to her evening’s training session with Ben. And he had been doing so well too. If it hadn’t been for those wretched geese...
Georgia sighed and closed her eyes, trying to recapture her earlier mood of delicious relaxation, but it was no use. Sooner or later she was going to have to go downstairs to face Piers. What a sight she must have looked as she’d dragged herself out of the river. No wonder he had looked so angrily at her, his eyes, she was sure, filled with an expression of contemptuous disdain.
Reluctantly she stepped out of the bath and reached for the towel, wrapping it sarong-wise around her body. Then she realised she had neglected to bring her robe into the bathroom with her.
Securing her damp curls on top of her head with a tortoiseshell clip, she opened the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom just at the same time as Piers, unable to get any response to either his brief knock on her bedroom door or to calling her name, anxiously pushed open the door and walked into the room.
As she stared at Piers Georgia wasn’t aware of the way she instinctively crossed her hands over her towel-covered breasts, but Piers was, his mouth twisting a little sardonically as he wondered what she would say if he told her that, far from protecting her, her action had actually done more to focus his attention on her body and communicate to him—as though he hadn’t already been aware of it—the fact that her insecurely wrapped towel was the only thing covering her naked body...
‘I’ve brought you a cup of coffee,’ he told her shortly, disliking the direction his own thoughts were taking almost as much as, he told himself, he disliked Georgia herself.
‘Er...thank you...’ Georgia husked, looking round frantically for somewhere to put it which would keep a seriously safe distance between them. Not that she actually felt she had anything to fear from him. Of course she didn’t. She knew that, and she was certainly not going to fling herself headlong into his arms—was she? So why had it become so overwhelmingly necessary not to allow herself to get too close to him? Just because there had been that shockingly sensual moment between them when he had kissed her and she had reacted...wanted... Well, that didn’t mean that she was automatically going to...that she wanted him to...that anything like that was ever going to happen between them again, Georgia reassured herself quickly.
Even so, she couldn’t prevent the sharp shiver of sensation that memory evoked, causing a delicious and dangerous quiver of excitement to run through her body. She trembled openly in the grip of it, and a small soft sound of protest strangled beneath her breath as her face flushed with guilty colour at what she was thinking.
Piers, completely unaware of what was running through her mind, saw the shudder and the flush and totally misinterpreted them as signs that Georgia had suffered much more than a mere wetting and an embarrassing loss of face during her unplanned ‘paddle’ in the river. Quickly looking for somewhere to put down her coffee so that he could insist, physically if necessary, that she get straight into bed and stay there until he could find some means of checking her temperature, he realised that the only place for it was on the bedside table, just a few inches from where Georgia herself was standing.
Transfixed, Georgia stood there, her arms still wrapped around her body, as Piers came towards her, putting down the coffee mug before commanding, ‘Bed...now...’
‘Bed...?’ Georgia’s mobile features betrayed her, illuminating what she was thinking, shock turning her already pink face crimson and driving a warm tide of colour up over her body, her eyes widening and darkening as she looked helplessly from Piers’s determined face to the bed and then back to hi
m again.
She had heard stories from other young women of men who were sexually masterful, but to be ordered into bed like that...as though...
As he saw the expression in her eyes, and realised just what she was thinking, Piers cursed silently under his breath.
‘You’re shivering; you might have caught a chill. I just wanted...’ he began, but as he spoke he involuntarily moved closer to her.
Georgia immediately stepped back from him, protesting shakily, ‘No, don’t come any closer.’ But as she lifted her hand from her body to ward him off she inadvertently stepped back on to the hem of her big towel.
Only loosely secured around her body, and without the added security of her crossed hands, and aided in loosening further by being trapped by her foot, the towel unwrapped itself from her body.
Immediately Georgia made a despairing grab for it, and just as immediately Piers launched himself across the gap that separated them, every instinct propelling him to do the gentlemanly thing and protect her modesty. The towel, though, and perhaps fate, too, had other ideas, so that all Georgia’s hands encountered was empty air whilst Piers’s were unexpectedly and explosively filled with warm, silky, damp-fleshed woman.
‘Oh!’ Georgia’s little squeak of protest somehow or other became a soft gasp that sounded much more like an invitation as she felt Piers’s hands grazing her arms and then her breasts, both her towel and her initial rejection of him forgotten as her body reacted to his as though it had suddenly been filled with liquid pleasure.
As he heard her ‘Oh!’ change to a soft ‘Mmm...’ Piers reacted instinctively, wrapping his arms around her.
‘I’m wet...your clothes...’ Georgia managed to protest, but to tell the truth the dampening effect of her naked skin against Piers’s clothes was really the last thing on her mind as her body, apparently of its own accord, nestled itself alluringly into the deliciously warm protection of Piers’s embrace.