by Fiona Harper
Drat. She’d forgotten they’d moved out of the cover of their secluded little corner.
Smiling nervously, she lifted her hand and gave them a little wave. They responded with a round of applause and a couple of wolf whistles.
She turned back to Daniel, keeping her eyes on his chest, and carefully smoothed his T-shirt flat with her palms before gathering the courage to look up at him.
‘I thought the plan was to keep it discreet,’ she said shakily.
Daniel’s grin became even broader. Damn the man for enjoying this!
‘Plans change,’ he said, not in the least bit repentant. And then he stepped away and made tracks to the spiral staircase, whistling as he went.
Chloe walked forwards and rested her forehead against the misty glass on the other side of the gallery. Not only had she not kept her distance from Daniel Bradford, but she’d actually proposed spending more time with him. Alone. In what messed up universe did that idea make sense?
She pressed her fingertips to her lips. She’d never had much self-control where Daniel had been concerned, and now look where it had got her. She’d made herself a trap, and she had no idea how she was going to climb out of it.
He found her in the orchid nursery the next morning, working on a plant she’d been growing from a seed that had lost its label during a collections trip. They needed to confirm what species it was, but until the plant flowered it was impossible to know. This one was stubbornly refusing. But Chloe knew all about being stubborn, didn’t she?
The slight hesitation in her movement told him she’d heard him coming, but she carried on with her work. Not ignoring him, just finishing what she was doing. Indifferent, almost.
When she was ready she put the pot down and cocked an eyebrow. ‘Well, if it isn’t Indiana. Here to pound your chest?’
Daniel grinned at her. The way he was feeling this morning, a little chest pounding wouldn’t be amiss. ‘Don’t know what you mean.’
‘That’s what that kiss was about, right? Putting on a good show, some macho attempt to mark me as yours?’ She shook her head. ‘All those jungle plants you work with must have activated your dormant monkey brain.’
Ouch. He was used to her being witty; he just hadn’t realised she could be so cutting with it. But he liked cutting. It was way better than polite and impervious.
‘Pretty much,’ he said, looking her up and down. Today she was the smartest and slickest he’d ever seen. The pencil skirt had made a reappearance, along with a dark pink top and the trademark red lips.
He was lying, though. He hadn’t had a plan. Not of any shape or any kind. He’d kissed her because he’d wanted to, because she’d been driving him crazy for weeks and he hadn’t been able not to.
Since Valentine’s Day he’d been at the mercy of the situation not of his making and he hated that. And, while Chloe’s idea had merit, it felt an awful lot like being rescued. He hated that more. If anyone was going to be doing the rescuing it was going to be him.
So when the urge to kiss her had hit, he’d gone with it, had taken back control in one swift and delicious move. He wasn’t prepared to regret it. Not after the way she’d responded to him. That had been no play-acting for the audience below. She’d been right there with him, dragging him deeper.
Indifferent? Yeah, right.
Chloe Michaels might do a good job of painting it that way on the surface, but underneath she was as hungry for him as he was for her. She just didn’t want to admit it. Daniel didn’t really care why. Not now he knew it was game on again—and that he’d had the first victory.
‘Well, I’m glad that you got whatever it was out of your system,’ she said starchily and turned her attention back to her orchid.
He moved a little closer. ‘No action replays?’
She pursed her lips and scowled at him. ‘I know the London press thinks you’re God’s gift, Indiana, but I think it’s gone to your head. You’re starting to believe your own hype.’
Daniel just chuckled. He so wasn’t. But Chloe was acting as if he were as sexually neutral as that plant she was tending. He had a point to prove.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘If you don’t like my idea, we’ll scrap the whole thing. Good luck with the next raincoat flasher, though.’
‘I didn’t say I was backing out.’
Far from it.
‘Well, then. We keep it on my terms,’ she said. ‘Strictly platonic. No more stunts like the one in the Palm House yesterday.’
‘What if you cave and end up kissing me senseless?’
She made a scoffing noise. ‘Not going to happen.’
He shrugged. ‘Whatever you say. But if you give me the signals, I’m not going to ignore them.’
She let out a dry laugh. ‘You are so big-headed! And so wrong.’
He so wasn’t. But this was what he’d been waiting for from her. This was all part of the fun, the push and pull of the chase, letting her think she was in charge, when actually he was reeling her in bit by bit. She’d change her tune soon enough.
‘How about that little Italian restaurant for our next outing?’ he said.
Chloe’s expression reminded him of how his grandmother used to look at him over the top of her glasses. Even that made him want to whistle again. Oh, he was going to have so much fun with her. She was going to be worth every bit of this torturous wait.
Because he’d realised what he’d told Alan at the pub was true. There was more than one way to hunt. Chloe obviously didn’t respond to the more direct approach—that only sent her running—so he was going to have to be more clever, more subtle. Just like his plants, he was going to make himself so irresistible to her that she wouldn’t be able to help herself.
He thought of the species of Sarracenia whose tall pitchers contained narcotic liquor, drugging the insects it captured so they didn’t even consider escaping. Chloe would be like one of those happy little flies when he’d finished with her.
‘No Italian,’ she said. ‘I don’t think the grapevine needs any more convincing at present. Yesterday did the trick quite nicely.’ She picked up the pot and examined the moisture level. ‘When’s Georgia’s next on-air segment?’
‘I think it’s the first Tuesday of the month,’ he said.
She put the pot down again. ‘Well, call me in June, then.’
Daniel grinned at her attempt to dismiss him. He’d go, but only because it was part of a bigger plan. He couldn’t help letting her know that, though. He walked over to her, leaned in close and opened his mouth to whisper in her ear. She snapped the small green cane she was holding in half and every muscle in her body went taut.
So not indifferent.
‘Till June,’ he whispered, letting his breath warm the sensitive parts of the ear lobe, and he actually saw the moment she suppressed a shiver.
Two more dates and he’d have her eating out of his hand.
As May bled into June Chloe got more and more agitated. Stupid, stupid idea. What had she been thinking?
Well, obviously, she hadn’t.
She’d resorted to her old way of doing things, reacting on impulse rather than taking a measured decision. It was just that kind of behaviour that had got her into trouble with Daniel Bradford all those years ago, the sort of thing New Chloe didn’t do.
Thankfully, however stupid her plan was, however self-destructive, it actually looked as if it was working. There had been no more ‘raincoat’ incidents, and Daniel had reported a drop in interested female visitors. The plan had its downside too, though. After being so excited to get her dream job as Kew’s Head Orchid Keeper, Chloe now found her working days tense and stressful. She went home every evening with a headache.
It wasn’t that Daniel had repeated the kiss in the Palm House. He’d kept his distance, just as they planned. Physically. That didn’t mean he’d left her alone.
When they passed each other at work—which was often—he’d give her a smile he reserved just for her. Warm, intense … inviting. Just
the sort of special smile lovers shared. It was messing with her head, big time. And he knew it.
Then, in early June, just as she’d suggested, Daniel’s phone call came. He wanted to come and pick her up at home, but she made an excuse about having to work late, so he came and collected her from her nursery at the allotted time instead.
They walked through the gardens together to the staff car park. Plenty of people noticed their exit. Chloe could almost hear the whispers as they passed, see the nods and winks behind their backs. It was almost a relief to slide into the passenger seat of his car and shut the world out again. Or it would have been, if the clunk of the door hadn’t created another little universe. A universe where the atmosphere became so hot the atoms danced and shimmered. A universe where she and Daniel were the only occupants. She faced forward and stared blindly at the windscreen. ‘Where are we going?’
He just put the car into gear and pulled away. ‘Somewhere lively,’ he said, and Chloe’s insides unclenched a little.
That was just what she needed. Somewhere busy, bustling with people. Somewhere she wouldn’t be left alone with him.
The car joined the rush-hour traffic through Kew and on into Chiswick. Chloe’s mood brightened further. There were some lovely restaurants here. She scanned the high street as they drove down it, wondering which one he’d picked.
Thai? French? Lebanese?
But when they turned into a side street he didn’t park, even though there were plenty of spaces. Instead he kept driving, turning this way and that until he stopped in a residential street. They were outside a smart brick house with a large bay window and a glossy black front door. He turned the engine off and got out, opened the door for her. Chloe stayed in her seat, clutching her handbag.
‘We’re here?’ she asked. ‘Where are we?’
Daniel did a little bow. ‘My house.’
She swallowed. ‘I thought you said we were going somewhere lively.’
Daniel just smiled. ‘You haven’t been inside yet.’
Run, something inside her shouted. Get out of the car and run.
It was probably her common sense making a last-ditch attempt to save her. She let it scream its frustration then sprint down the road without her.
He held out his hand and she took it, let him help her from the car. Then he ushered her up the garden path and she stood aside while he produced his keys from his pocket and opened the front door.
The minute he’d stepped into the hallway he was practically bowled over by two running bundles of energy. Chloe blinked. It took her a second to work out they were two small boys, one a slightly smaller version of the other, both with Daniel’s grey-green eyes.
He had …? They were …?
But then they both started shouting, ‘Uncle Dan! Uncle Dan!’ and the penny dropped. But the minute that puzzle had been solved another one elbowed its way in. This was where Daniel took girls on a date?
He turned and gave her a rueful smile, a small boy hanging off each arm, and led the way down the hall and into a kitchen-diner in the back of the house, with a lounge area under a conservatory at the far end. A tall, slender woman was stirring something on the hob. Same dark hair with a bit of a kink, same pale eyes. That had to be his sister.
‘Boys,’ she said, ‘try not to pull your uncle’s arms off.’ Then she looked up and smiled at Chloe. ‘Hi.’
‘Hi,’ Chloe said.
‘Welcome to the madhouse,’ she said. ‘I’m Kelly.’ She indicated each of the boys in turn with her wooden spoon. ‘That’s Cal … That’s Ben. Say hello to Uncle Dan’s friend, boys.’
But the boys were too busy wrestling their uncle to the ground. For two people so small, they really knew what they were doing, Chloe thought, as Daniel’s knees buckled and he was felled with a thud.
‘They’ll calm down in a minute,’ Kelly said. ‘They do that every night when he comes in.’ She sighed. ‘Their father took a hike a couple of years ago and the lack of male influence makes them a little full on when they get the chance to do some “boy bonding”.’
Chloe’s eyebrows rose. ‘Beating each other half to death is boy bonding?’
Kelly grinned as she added some chopped tomatoes to the pan. ‘You don’t have brothers, do you?’
Chloe shook her head. Just her. And her doting, but rather hard to impress parents. It took a lot to carry the weight of all that parental expectation on one pair of shoulders. She’d often wished she’d had a sibling or two to share the load. ‘Why can’t they just paint each other’s nails and snivel their way through a good film, like normal people do?’
Kelly laughed. ‘Wow, it’s good to have a bit of sanity around here. I thought I was in danger of drowning in all the testosterone. This house has been a bit lacking in female company since Georgia—’ She bit her lip. ‘Sorry.’
Chloe held up her hands. ‘No, it’s okay. Me and Daniel, we’re just …’
Friends sounded so lame. In cahoots too much like a cheesy thriller. She settled for the safest option.
‘… colleagues.’
Kelly scrubbed the pan with the wooden spoon. Chloe thought she could see a bit of burnt onion refusing to behave. ‘Yep,’ she said, giving the mixture a vigorous stir that made Chloe realise that Daniel wasn’t the only one in the family who liked to get physical, ‘and I’m just Gordon Ramsay.’
Chloe didn’t say much after that. From the past couple of months at work, she knew it was no good to convince her otherwise. And it was an easy enough assumption to make. Why would Daniel be bringing her home otherwise?
The ruckus from the lounge end of the room was getting rather loud. Kelly handed the saucepan to Chloe and went to intervene.
‘Boys!’ she yelled. ‘Pyjamas! Now!’
Instantly, the knot of testosterone on the floor disentangled itself. Then, one by one, they headed towards the stairs, pouts pushing their bottom lips forward. Daniel brought up the rear, copying their expression, which only made them giggle again. The whole scene would have descended back into chaos if Kelly hadn’t given her big brother a clip round the ear.
The boys bounced in the doorway. ‘We want Uncle Dan to read us a story,’ they yelled repeatedly.
Uncle Dan looked up at Chloe, who was still holding the saucepan, and gave her an apologetic look. ‘Do you mind?’
She shook her head. She’d been trying to keep her distance from him for weeks now. Why would she mind if he volunteered to do just that?
Kelly came and took the saucepan from her. Just as well Chloe had heard the thunder of little—and big—feet on the stairs, because Kelly’s verdict on her own cooking was not for children’s ears. ‘I always was crap at cooking,’ she explained. ‘Dan said I should just get some posh stuff to reheat from the supermarket, but I had to decide to go all cordon bleu, didn’t I?’ She tipped the contents of the saucepan into the bin and banged it back down on the hob. Chloe quickly leaned forward and turned the gas off before another catastrophe occurred.
Kelly rummaged in a drawer and produced a fan of takeaway leaflets. ‘Curry, curry, Chinese or curry,’ she said brightly.
Chloe looked at the other ingredients lined up on the counter. Bacon, garlic, chilli flakes … ‘Amatriciana sauce, right?’
Kelly nodded, looking at Chloe as if she were the bearer of ancient and hallowed wisdom.
‘It’d be a shame to waste all that lovely fresh pasta,’ Chloe said. ‘Have you got another onion and more tomatoes? I’m sure I could help … if you wouldn’t mind?’
Kelly looked as if she was going to prostrate herself at Chloe’s feet. She grabbed Chloe’s hand. ‘Please marry him,’ she said, and then she added, ‘As you can see, my tact is as well developed as my culinary skills. Blame it on having two thickheaded brothers. Blunt and direct was what was required round our house when we were growing up. Never quite learned how to switch it off.’
Chloe grinned at her. She couldn’t help liking Kelly. Her say-whatever-fell-into-her-head approach was rather ref
reshing. There must be something lovely about going through life like that, not having to worry about saying the wrong thing or accidentally showing a part of yourself you’d rather other people didn’t know about.
‘I take it there is wine somewhere in this kitchen?’ she asked.
‘Do you need it for the sauce?’
‘No,’ said Chloe, smiling. ‘I need it in a glass. Now where are those tomatoes?’
Kelly provided both wine and tomatoes. ‘Forget marrying Dan,’ she said as she watched Chloe sweat some finely diced onion. ‘Move in and adopt me.’
Chloe chuckled, and they continued to chat as she made headway in making the pasta sauce. Kelly was more a hindrance than a help, though, and Chloe quickly suggested she put her feet up, saying that looking after pre-schoolers must be very tiring.
She nodded in the direction of the ceiling as Kelly collected her wine glass and flopped on the sofa. ‘He’s great with the boys.’
‘He is that.’ Kelly looked up, a soft smile on her face. ‘He’ll make a really good dad some—’ She froze, scratched her nose and looked away. ‘Forget I said that.’
Inside Chloe was frowning, but on the outside she batted Kelly’s stray comment away and smiled cheerfully back, mentally searching for something to say that would dispel the odd, slightly sad atmosphere that had settled on the other woman.
‘Well, there is one thing I can guarantee,’ Chloe said jokingly as she added some garlic to the pan. ‘It’s that I won’t ever be marrying your brother.’
CHAPTER SIX
DANIEL PAUSED ON the stairs as he heard Chloe’s voice and smiled.
No marrying him. Ever. That was practically a guarantee.
He bounced back into the kitchen to find Chloe standing at the stove and Kelly lounging on the sofa sipping Merlot. What was wrong with that picture?
‘I invited you for dinner,’ he told Chloe, ‘not the other way round.’
Chloe shrugged. ‘I like cooking, and your sister …’
‘Your sister burnt the crap out of the first attempt,’ Kelly said helpfully. ‘I’ve been banished to the sofa. She won’t even let me help.’