British Bachelors & Conveniently Bedded Bundle

by Helen Brooks, Maggie Cox, Natalie Anderson, Anna Cleary

  It had been the first time he had resorted to physical abuse, and when he had hit her she had hit him back, fighting with all her might when he’d laid into her. Their neighbours had called the police and by the time they’d arrived she had been barely conscious, but lucid enough to realise that but for the police’s pounding at their door his intention had been to rape her. That knowledge had been the most horrific thing of all.

  The divorce had been quick and final and he hadn’t even contested it, realising he had gone too far and his hold over her was finished. Her love had turned to hate and he’d known it.

  She opened her eyes, staring down at the papers on her desk without seeing them, lost in her dark thoughts. How could something she had thought so good, so fine, have turned out to be so bad, a lie from start to finish? Some months after the divorce one of her friends had told her she’d heard Piers had married again. Someone from his office apparently and, her friend had murmured, the word was Piers had been seeing this girl when he was still married to Willow. She had looked her friend full in the face and told her the girl had her sympathy. And it was true. She had. No one deserved Piers.

  Willow sat for a moment more and then her shoulders came back and she straightened. She had work to do. No more thinking. And anyway, Morgan hadn’t asked to see her again, she reminded herself, as though that sorted everything out. Which it did, certainly for the immediate future.

  She was the last one to leave her particular office at six o’clock although there were still a couple of lights on in other parts of the building when she walked out to the car park after saying goodnight to the security man. The night was windy but dry and she drove home carefully, conscious she was tired, both emotionally and physically. Tomorrow morning she had the chimney sweep coming and she couldn’t wait to be able to light a fire in the sitting room again, and in the afternoon the plumber Morgan had recommended was coming to look round the cottage and give her a quote for central heating. Tonight, though, the cottage was cold and faintly damp, and it didn’t do anything for her mood as she fixed herself a sandwich and a hot drink in the kitchen. The last few nights she’d gone to bed with a jumper and bedsocks over her pyjamas, and three hot-water bottles positioned at strategic parts of her body.

  She went to bed early, once again cocooned like an Eskimo and fell asleep immediately, curled under the duvet like a small animal, waking just before her alarm clock went off at eight. Her nose was cold but the rest of her was as warm as toast and she stretched, willing herself to get out of bed and face the chill.

  An hour later she’d washed, dressed and had breakfast and was waiting for the chimney sweep. After a gloomy, rain-filled week the weather had done one of its mercurial transformations. Bright sunshine was spilling through the cottage windows and all was golden light. Her mood, too, had changed. She was in love with her little home again and the future wasn’t the black hole she had stared into the night before, but something laced with expectation and hope. Life was good and she was fortunate.

  She wasn’t sure if she could ever fully trust a man again or take the step Beth had spoken about yesterday, but somehow it didn’t seem such an urgent obstacle today but something that would take care of itself. Shrugging at her inconsistency, she made another pot of coffee and was just taking her first sip when a knock came at the front door.

  Absolutely sure it was the chimney sweep, she flung open the door saying, ‘Am I pleased to see you’, and then felt an instant tightening in her stomach as her heart did a somersault.

  ‘Thank you. I didn’t expect such a warm welcome.’ Morgan was leaning against the door post, his black hair shining in the sunlight and his blue eyes crinkled with a smile.

  ‘I thought you were the chimney sweep,’ she said weakly, knowing she’d turned beetroot red. ‘I’m waiting for him.’

  ‘Don’t spoil it.’

  ‘I— He’ll be here in a—a minute.’ Oh, for goodness’ sake, pull yourself together, she told herself scathingly, hearing her stammer with disgust, but the knowledge had suddenly hit that part of the uplift in her mood had been because there’d been a chance of running into Morgan during the weekend. ‘Come in,’ she said belatedly, standing aside for him to enter and trying to ignore what the smell of his aftershave did to her senses as he walked past her. ‘I’ve just made some coffee, if you’d like one? And there’s toast and preserves in the kitchen.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  Like before he seemed to fill the cottage; the very air seemed to crackle when he was around. Leading the way into the kitchen, she said carefully, ‘The guy you recommended for the central heating is coming round this afternoon.’ Keep it friendly and informal, nothing heavy, Willow. Don’t ask him why he’s here, much as you’d like to. ‘He seemed very nice on the phone. Very helpful and friendly.’

  ‘Jeff? Yeh, he’s a good local contact,’ Morgan said a trifle absently. ‘He’ll do a good job for you.’

  ‘He’s just had a cancellation, apparently, and thinks he’d be able to start work this coming week if we agree on a price.’

  ‘That’s fortunate. Snap him up and get the job done.’

  She turned to face him, an unexpected quiver running through her as she glanced at him standing in the doorway, big and dark and tough-looking. Only somehow she didn’t think he was quite as tough as he’d like people to believe, not deep inside. ‘White or black?’ she asked flatly, not liking the way her thoughts had gone.

  ‘Black,’ he said almost impatiently, before adding, ‘Thanks.’

  After pouring Morgan a coffee she picked up her own and walked over to him, intending they go and sit in the sitting room. Only he didn’t move from the doorway, taking his mug but his eyes moving over her face as he murmured, ‘I’ve thought of you all week, do you know that? I’ve thought of nothing but you.’

  Willow stared at him. His tone had been one of self-deprecation, even annoyance, and she didn’t know how to respond. Raising her chin slightly, she said, ‘Do you expect me to apologise?’

  There was a brief silence and then he smiled, humour briefly sparkling in his eyes. ‘No, just to listen to me while I explain where I’m coming from. Will you do that?’

  She was spared an answer by the real chimney sweep banging on the front door. ‘I’ll have to let him in.’

  He stood for a moment more and then let her through. ‘I’ll hang around till he goes, if that’s OK?’

  She turned just before she opened the front door. ‘Yes, that’s OK,’ she said quietly, blessing the fact the turmoil within wasn’t evident in her voice.

  The next hour was the longest of her life, but eventually Mr George—a burly, red-cheeked man with a wide smile—had removed his covers and other paraphernalia, finished his coffee and cake, and left, and all without making one spot of soot fall on her newly cleaned sitting room. He and Morgan had chatted about local goings-on while he’d worked, and between them they’d eaten most of the cherry cake she’d bought the day before. Willow found she was immensely irritated by the ease with which Morgan had conducted himself, especially because her insides had caught into a giant knot and her heart seemed determined to jump out of her chest every time she looked at him.

  The moment the door had closed behind Mr George, Morgan looked straight at her and for a moment she suspected he was as nervous as she was. Then she dismissed the notion. Morgan Wright didn’t have a nervous bone in his body.

  ‘So,’ he murmured softly as though the last hour hadn’t happened and they were continuing their conversation in the kitchen. ‘This is the problem as I see it.’

  Willow found she didn’t like being referred to as a problem. It gave her the strength to stare at him without betraying any emotion and keep her voice steady as she said coolly, ‘Problem?’

  He’d obviously read her mind and the faintly stern mouth curved upward in a crooked smile. ‘Difficulty,’ he amended equably. ‘We’re neighbours. Next-door neighbours,’ he added, as though she didn’t know. ‘Which means the p
ossibility of running into each other now and again is pretty high.’

  She didn’t agree. He made it sound as though they lived side by side in a terrace rather than with an acre or two of his grounds separating them, not to mention a high stone wall one way and the lane the other. She opened her mouth to voice this but he didn’t give her the chance.

  ‘But that’s not really the…difficulty,’ he continued. ‘There’s an attraction between us, you know it and I know it. We enjoy each other’s company.’ He raised his hand as she went to speak again. ‘But here’s the problem. Sorry, difficulty. You’ve just come out of a bad relationship and aren’t looking to have a man in your life. Right?’

  She nodded, but now she was determined he wasn’t going to have this all his own way. ‘And you don’t do emotional commitment beyond the short-term affair,’ she said tightly. ‘Which I find…cold-blooded.’

  ‘But you didn’t deny there is an attraction between us,’ he said very quietly, his blue eyes holding hers.

  No, she hadn’t. She should have, but she hadn’t.

  He walked to where she was still standing by the front door, not touching her but so close she was enveloped in his body warmth. ‘Like I said earlier, I’ve thought of you all week.’ His jaw tensed a few times before he added, ‘Awake or asleep. That’s not—usual with me.’

  He lifted a strand of her hair, letting it shiver through his fingers almost absent-mindedly. ‘I’m in London during the week, you’re in Redditch, but at the weekends we could see each other sometimes. Nothing heavy, I’m not suggesting I expect you to warm my bed, although you’d be very welcome if so inclined,’ he added smokily. ‘More than welcome, in fact.’

  ‘I— That—that wouldn’t be on the cards.’

  He smiled, a sexy quirk that did nothing to quell her raging hormones. ‘I thought not, but bear the invitation in mind,’ he murmured lazily. ‘It’s open-ended.’

  He was flirting with her. Willow found the warm fragrance of him was making her legs tremble. And he flirted very well. Obviously plenty of practice, she told herself, danger signals going off loud and strong. ‘I—I thought I’d made it clear, I don’t want to date. Not after everything that’s happened.’

  ‘Oh, you did, you did. Very clear.’

  She drew in a deep breath as his fingertips moved against her lower ribs, his palms cupping her sides. It wasn’t an aggressive action, just the opposite, but as his strength and vitality flowed through his warm flesh she felt as panic-stricken as if he were making love to her.

  ‘But surely there’s nothing wrong in enjoying each other’s company now and again?’ Morgan continued in a softly cajoling voice that played havoc with her power to reason. ‘I expect nothing of you and you expect nothing of me. We can just see how it goes. Take it nice and easy. What do you think?’

  She couldn’t think with him touching her. He was so tough and hard and sexy that the temptation to lay her head against his chest and agree to anything he wanted was strong. She wanted to be looked after, loved, adored, spoilt, all the things she’d made herself say goodbye to for ever long before she and Piers had split. But there was no guarantee a relationship with Morgan would be any better. Piers had been charm itself before he’d married her. She’d learnt the hard way that meant nothing.

  She became aware he was studying her with narrowed eyes. ‘I’m not your ex-husband,’ he said quietly. ‘Get that straight in your head, Willow. I like you. I’d like to make love to you, I’m not going to deny it, but I play fair. You know I don’t do for ever and that won’t change. If friends is all we have, then so be it. You never know, this spark between us might burn itself out in time. What do they say? Familiarity breeds contempt? Togetherness can be a two-edged sword.’

  Oh, yes, and Morgan was going to change from the most sexy man on the planet to some kind of a geek, was he? When hell froze over.

  She stared into the movie-star-blue eyes and for a moment allowed herself to bathe in the feeling that had been there from the second he’d spoken in the kitchen. A composite of amazement, bewilderment, gratification, delight and sheer shock that this tough, enigmatic, wealthy and intelligent man, who also happened to be deliciously attractive to boot, was interested in her.

  ‘You mentioned we live next door to each other,’ she said weakly. ‘What if it ends badly? Wouldn’t that make things awkward?’

  ‘It won’t.’ He kissed the tip of her nose lightly.

  ‘You might meet someone.’ The world was full of lovely women.

  ‘I meet people all the time, Willow,’ he said gently.

  ‘A woman, someone who’s free to get involved…properly. Who wants what you want.’ Even now she found it difficult to say; what would it be like if it actually happened after she’d been seeing him for a while? She shouldn’t be considering this.

  He didn’t deny it. ‘Friendship can survive worse than that.’

  She couldn’t think of anything worse than that right at this moment but didn’t think it prudent to say so.

  ‘Decision time.’ He pulled her closer into him, but this time he took her mouth in a kiss that nipped at her lower lip before deepening into an erotic assault on her senses. Warmth spread through her as his mouth left hers and trailed over her cheek, then her throat, before returning to her lips in a swift final kiss. He stepped back a pace, letting go of her, and she felt the loss in every fibre of her being. ‘So?’ he said levelly, face expressionless. ‘What’s it to be?’

  ‘You said no lovemaking,’ she protested weakly.

  ‘I said I didn’t expect you to jump into bed with me,’ he corrected gently. ‘I didn’t say anything about kissing or cuddling or a whole host of other…pleasant things between friends. And that’s all that was, nothing heavy.’

  ‘You kiss all your friends like that?’

  His eyes were deep pools of laughter. ‘Only those with honey-coloured, spicy skin, green eyes and red hair.’

  There were a hundred and one reasons why she shouldn’t get mixed up with Morgan Wright, be it as a ‘friend’ or anything else, not least because absolutely nothing could come of it and she might end up getting hurt. She stared at him, her mind racing. But guidelines had been drawn—albeit somewhat fuzzy ones if that kiss was anything to go by. And why shouldn’t she just go out and enjoy herself sometimes with a male companion? She was still young, for goodness’ sake, and free, and she knew what—and what not—she was getting into with Morgan. He might be able to charm the birds out of the trees, but he had been honest with her. She knew exactly where she stood with Morgan. Didn’t she?

  Willow could still smell a lingering scent of lime from his aftershave and although he hadn’t ravished her mouth her lips were tingling. He was disturbingly good at this kissing business.

  Could she bear to say no, to effectively wipe him out of her life for good? He wasn’t the type of man to beg.

  She took a deep breath. ‘I see nothing wrong in us getting to know each other better. It’s—it’s nice to know there’s a friend around if you need one,’ she added primly.

  ‘Very nice,’ he agreed gravely. ‘Great, in fact.’

  ‘And the cottage is a little remote. If I need a neighbour in an emergency—’

  ‘You can call on me, any time of the day or—’ he paused briefly ‘—night.’

  ‘Quite,’ she said briskly, taking his words at face value and ignoring the innuendo. ‘Which is reassuring for a single woman.’

  His smile this time was merely a twitch, but the piercing blue eyes glimmered with laughter. She wondered if he knew how that incredible, deep, bright blueness could hold you spellbound. Then she answered herself wryly. Of course he knew. And she was going to have to be very careful to resist Morgan’s particular brand of magic.

  This was nothing more than a brief interlude for him, a diverting game even. She’d caught his interest more because of what she wasn’t than what she was. Unwittingly her refusal to fall into bed with him had singled her out as something of a c
hallenge; it was the age-old scenario of the thrill of the chase.

  But as long as she knew all that and kept it very firmly to the forefront of her mind, she could do this. And she wanted to do it. She wanted to get to know Morgan better, to find out what made him tick. She wanted to discover more about his past, what had made him the tough, cynical man he had become. To understand his work, what motivated him. He was a fascinating individual, she admitted it. Magnetic even. He had a quality that drew people into his orbit almost in spite of themselves. And she wanted to be with him…for a while.

  She had been totally straight with him; he knew she had no intention of sleeping with him. That being the case, she had nothing to lose. Nothing at all. Did she?

  CHAPTER NINE

  WILLOW and Morgan ate at a little restaurant tucked away in a small market town some twenty miles away that night. When he arrived at the cottage he was driving the Aston Martin and the beautiful car added to the worries that had crowded in the minute he’d left. Morgan was way, way out of her league, she told herself as he helped her into the passenger seat and shut the door quietly, the doubts that had been rampant since the morning crowding in. Seeing him like this was going against everything she’d decided for the future on breaking with Piers. How could she be so stupid, so fickle? This was such a mistake.

  Contrary to her fears at the beginning of the evening, they enjoyed a night of easy talk and easy laughter, and when Morgan dropped her home he declined her offer of a nightcap and left her on the doorstep with a firm, confident kiss that kept her warm until she was in bed.