A Will, A Wish...A Proposal (Contemporary Romance) Page 9

  But he couldn’t.

  Her eyes had widened, her breathing shallow and he didn’t know if it was attraction or fear—he’d bet that she didn’t really know either. There were times when he could swear that she was attracted to him: the way she smiled, ran a hand through her hair, peeped from under her lashes. Even in the line for the London Eye he had caught her looking at him with a speculation that had made his blood heat.

  But the next moment she would shut off totally. She was as skittish as an unbroken colt. Part of him needed to know why, wanted to help her, protect her. But he had known her for what...? A few days? Who was he to walk into her life and arrogantly assume he could put it right?

  He rocked back on his feet, casually letting his arm fall back, giving her the space she needed. He smiled at her, slow and sweet and as unthreatening as an ice cream sundae.

  ‘Ellie Scott, I do believe we are breaking the rules.’

  She was still frozen in place. ‘We are?’

  ‘We said we were going to have fun and, believe me, talking about my family is anything but. So, I am going to ask one of those nice teachers for one of their quizzes, and I am going to see if I can beat you and every single one of these ten-year-olds.’

  ‘You don’t know what the quiz is actually on.’ The colour had come back into her cheeks and her shoulders had relaxed.

  ‘I don’t care. Honey, in my family we play to win. Monopoly, Clue, Mario Kart, Singstar—whatever it is, we do whatever it takes to win. And if that means bribing a ten-year-old for the answers, then watch me go.’

  * * *

  What would have happened if she’d smiled at him instead of standing there like a faun frozen in place by the White Witch? Would he have moved in closer? Would he have touched her? Kissed her?

  What must he think? Whether he was just being friendly or was attracted to her he must think her gauche at best, ridiculous at worst.

  Not that you would know, because within two minutes he had charmed two quiz sheets out of the bemused teachers and proceeded to barter, beg and bribe answers from the excited group of children, high-fiving them all when they finally exited the pod, the kids to go into the attached museum, Ellie and Max to begin a late-afternoon stroll along the side of the Thames.

  ‘What now? Penguins?’ he asked.

  She looked at the queue, still snaking around the block, and pulled a face. ‘It’s a bit late. I don’t think we’d get to the front before it shuts. Raincheck?’

  ‘Look.’ He stopped beside a poster. ‘You can have afternoon tea with them. How cool! Do you think we have to eat raw fish too? I mean, I like sushi as much as the next guy, but I’m not sure I could manage a whole fish, bones and all.’

  ‘Maybe the penguins like scones.’ Her eyes flicked over the dates. ‘The next one isn’t till next month...the twenty-second.’

  ‘Diary it in.’ He flashed a grin at her. ‘Penguins, sushi, and scones for two.’

  ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world!’

  ‘You still owe me a souvenir,’ he reminded her. ‘In fact two. I aced that quiz.’

  ‘You cheated at that quiz.’

  ‘The destination is all that matters. How you get there is irrelevant.’ He began to stroll along, quite unrepentant.

  ‘Do you really believe that?’ Lots of people did, obviously. But she’d expected more of him.

  He slid her a sidelong grin. ‘Sure I do. Don’t worry about who you kick on the way up, ’cause you have no intention of ever coming back down again. Survival of the fittest. Family mottoes, all of them. I bet Great-Aunt Demelza grew up cross-stitching them into samplers so we could hang them on our bedroom walls.’

  ‘Oh, ha-ha.’ But she didn’t mind the teasing.

  A glow spread through her as she watched him from the corner of her eye. Sauntering along, dark hair ever so slightly ruffled, the morning’s stubble on his chin. Just another American tourist enjoying the London summer evening.

  But not every tourist attracted admiring glances from the groups of girls they passed, and not everyone exuded such happy vibes. Which was a little bizarre, because when they’d first met she hadn’t pegged him as the relaxed type. Arrogant? Sure. Rude? Most definitely. It was funny to think that if someone had told her just a few days ago that she would be spending time away with him, that he would make her laugh, make her heart beat faster, she would have laughed—and prescribed a course of wholesome children’s books and some early nights.

  And yet here she was.

  And here he was.

  She couldn’t stop looking at him, fixating on the way the late-afternoon sun glinted on his bare tanned arms, highlighting every play of muscle. How it lingered on his strong, capable hands. Her eyes followed the sun’s playful light as it danced over his wrists and along his fingers. What would it be like to hold them? To slide her finger over one knuckle? Could she? Would she dare? All she had to do was reach out.

  She swung her hand a little closer in a pathetic experiment, snatching it back in a panic before allowing it to swing again. A jolt shot through her as her knuckles grazed his. It was all she could do not to cling on and never, ever let go.

  ‘Ellie.’

  He stopped and turned to face her. There was a simmering heat in his eyes...a heat that mirrored the liquid fire slipping through her veins, setting every nerve alight. Nerves that had spent so long dormant sprang to fiery life.

  ‘If you want to hold my hand, honey, then all you have to do is take it.’

  She gaped, trying to formulate some response, to deny it. But she was mute.

  ‘But, Ellie...?’

  There was a roughness to his voice, as if he was trying very hard to stay measured, to sound calm. She held his gaze despite the weakness in her knees, the tremors shivering through her. Despite the fear that she was making a mistake, the urge to retreat that was almost as strong as the urge to surge forward.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘If you do then I will kiss you. Maybe not here, in front of all these people, and maybe not as we walk, but some time, at some point, I will kiss you. And you...’ his eyes dropped to her mouth in an almost physical caress ‘...you’ll kiss me back. Are you ready for that, Ellie?’

  It wasn’t the heat. Not in the end. And it wasn’t the rough edge to his voice that spoke of want and passion. It wasn’t his words and the arrogant assumption implicit in them. It was the tone. It was the look in his eyes. A look that said he needed her. That if she turned away he would accept it—and regret it.

  And she? Would she regret it too? Just as she was beginning to regret the years she had spent hidden away, as safe as a nun in her convent and as chaste—not through vocation but through fear.

  Ellie lifted her chin. She was done hiding and she was done living her life in the shadows. She was going to live. She was going to risk.

  Slowly, hating the giveaway trembling of her fingers, she extended her arm and slipped her hand into his. His fingers closed around her, one at a time, softly, as if he knew not to spook her. His hand was warm, comforting, strong—and just the sense of skin against skin sent sparks dancing throughout her body. A line connected her fingertips to the pit of her stomach.

  ‘Shall we?’

  Max took a step forward and Ellie watched her arm move with him, feeling the tug on her body to fall into step behind him. And as if in a dream she followed, her stride matching his, their bodies working together. Fitting together.

  She didn’t know where they were headed, and right now she didn’t much care. As long as her hand was in his they could walk for ever while she remembered what it felt like to yearn, to want to touch.

  It felt good.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HE STILL HADN’T kissed her.

  What kind of man promised a girl that he would kiss her and didn’t del
iver? He hadn’t even come tantalisingly close. Not so much as an intimate smile all evening.

  Not in their stroll along the South Bank, even though their hands had been entwined the whole time. Not as they’d perused the secondhand book stalls, nor as they’d bought milkshakes from one of the many vendors. Not over a glass of wine in a quaintly half-timbered pub, nor over dinner in a tiny Italian restaurant where the pasta had tasted the way Ellie had always imagined real Italian food would.

  She’d closed her eyes and listened to the shouting from the kitchen, breathed in the mingled smells of tomato, basil and wine, and had almost imagined that she was in Rome at last.

  And now they were returning to the hotel, retracing their steps along the riverside path, lit up and vibrant with the evening crowd. They were holding hands once again and he still hadn’t made one single move towards her.

  If she burst with anticipation it would be more than a little messy—and it would totally serve him right.

  He shouldn’t make promises he wasn’t prepared to follow through.

  ‘Are you tired? We could get a cab? Or,’ he added a little doubtfully, ‘as we’re being tourists we could try buses. But I have to warn you they confuse the hell out of me.’

  ‘Do they really confuse you or have you just never been on one?’

  She was pretty sure it was the latter. He might be dressed down, but he was designer all the way at heart. She simply couldn’t imagine him on a bus.

  He grinned. ‘Both.’

  ‘I’m fine walking. I ate so much pasta I could do with the exercise.’ Very, very cool, Ellie. That was definitely not in the ‘Things to Say on a First Date’ guide.

  Not that this was. A first or a date. Obviously.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I can tell there’s a lot of wheels turning in that head of yours. Anything you want to share?’

  How could he sound so relaxed? So amused?

  Because this wasn’t a first date. Holding hands with someone you’d known for a less than a week and only occasionally liked was probably completely normal to him.

  ‘No.’ She wasn’t lying. She didn’t want to share a single thought about dates or kisses with him. ‘I’m not really thinking about anything. Just that it’s nice to be out and about.’

  ‘What shall we do tomorrow? The car is coming to pick us up at six and you’ll probably need a good hour and a half to get ready...’

  Ellie was about to interrupt. To tell him she only needed half an hour. A quick shower, brush her hair, slick on some mascara and lipstick and decide between her not that little black dress or her slightly longer black dress, put on her black almost-heels. It was hardly the routine of a diva.

  Although she could visit the hotel spa and get her nails done. It would probably wipe out her entire savings, but a little bit of pampering would be nice.

  Ellie watched a group of girls totter past, only just balancing on their high strappy shoes. They were like a flock of exotic birds as they trilled and giggled in tiny, sheer summer dresses in emerald and cobalt blue, silver and sunshine-yellow.

  Young, vibrant and alive.

  She looked down. Skinny grey jeans. Again. High-top trainers. Again. Another short-sleeved tunic, black this time. Her hair was still twisted in the loose knot she had put it into that morning; her face was make-up free. The brightest colour in her wardrobe was a deep purple. She had switched the taupes and beiges that Simon had approved of for another colourless uniform. Another way to blend in.

  The knowledge that she had chosen her own uniform didn’t make it feel any better. Or any less constraining.

  ‘Actually...’ She spoke quickly before she changed her mind. ‘I’ll need longer than that. I might need the whole afternoon.’

  Max’s mouth quirked. ‘Of course. Just the whole afternoon?’

  Guilt pulled at her. ‘I know we were supposed to be having fun. I’ll be around in the morning to do something.’

  ‘No, it’s fine.’ He pulled a face. ‘I always planned to be in the office tomorrow anyway. I can’t really play hooky on a Monday, and there’s still so much to do in Trengarth even if I employ someone to empty the house, I might not get back to London this trip. Take as long as you need.’

  He didn’t tell her that she didn’t need the afternoon, didn’t waste time on fake compliments or try and talk her out of it. He respected her decision. That was great.

  Or, more honestly, it was a little disappointing. But that was okay. She’d prove to Max Loveday that she could scrub up as well as any of his high-maintenance, trust fund, well-bred, moneyed usual dates.

  And she’d prove to herself that it wasn’t too late to take a chance.

  * * *

  He still hadn’t kissed her. He knew that she wanted him to. Hell, she’d given him her hand, hadn’t she? Had stared at him with those Bambi eyes and slipped those slender fingers through his, trembling as if she were abseiling over a cliff and he was her lifeline. It was a little terrifying.

  It was intoxicating.

  And he wanted to kiss her.

  Wanted to so much he was almost trembling with it too. Almost.

  And that was partly why he was holding back. This was a short trip and anything—anyone—he got entangled with had to be on a strictly short-term basis. Right now, what with all the crazy in his life, that was fine by him.

  Besides, this was exactly what he didn’t need long-term. This kind of messy emotion. Sure it felt right now, but what about next week? Next year? With an ocean between them and completely separate lives? It would be insanity.

  Once he’d kissed Ellie would he remember that? Or would he be drawn in too far? Into something he didn’t have the time or the head space to handle?

  That was only partly it, though. Because it was all very well thinking about the future, but when all was said and done it would only be one kiss. But over the last two hours he’d sensed that it would be so much more to Ellie. Skittish, wide-eyed, and more vulnerable than she knew. It would be so easy to hurt her without even trying, and he didn’t want to be that guy.

  He shouldn’t have offered...should have known better. But the words were said now. He couldn’t take them back.

  And honestly...? He wasn’t sure he would if he could.

  But he hadn’t kissed her. Not yet.

  Their walk was over in the blink of an eye. He must have found his way back to the hotel by luck rather than judgement, because all he’d been aware of was the feel of her hand in his. The knowledge that at any second he could pull her closer and she wouldn’t stop him.

  How could he not?

  How could he?

  Suddenly the shared suite didn’t seem quite so funny, and the sitting-room separating their rooms seemed far too small. He wanted locks, corridors, possibly a couple of floors between them.

  The hotel lobby was brightly lit, with the crystals in the chandeliers dancing rainbows, casting light onto the ornate gilt walls. Ellie seemed to have shaken off her earlier nervousness and walked confidently over to the reception desk, where a perfectly groomed woman sat. Heads together, voices low, they shared a long conversation before Ellie swivelled and walked back over to him.

  ‘All set.’ She had a mysterious expression on her face, like a child on Christmas Eve, ripe with secrets. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Not.

  Her didn’t take her hand, stayed a safe distance away as they took the lift up to their floor, as they walked the few short metres to their suite. He stood gallantly back, allowing her into the sitting-room before him. But his promise was hanging in the air between them. It was in every questioning glance, every rise of her chest, every nervous flutter of her hands.

  ‘Nightcap?’ He shouldn’t have made the suggestion, should simply say goodnight and get out of there. But his comm
on sense had been overridden by his need to extend the evening even by just a few minutes.

  Ellie was standing in the middle of the sitting-room, her slim, casually clad figure incongruous amongst the deep purples and gold luxury of the opulent suite. She looked as fresh as a wildflower set amidst hothouse blooms.

  ‘No, thank you.’ She turned slowly. ‘I don’t think I fully took this in earlier. It’s very...’

  ‘Gold?’ he offered.

  Her mouth tilted. ‘It is that. It’s all very imposing, isn’t it? I’m not sure it’s exactly homely, though. I can’t imagine myself sprawling out on that sofa, for instance.’

  Max took a deep breath. Ellie. Sprawled. Sofa.

  His mind was full of images. Tousled hair, swollen lips, languid eyes, creamy skin...

  ‘I would like to see that.’ His voice was low, a rough rasp.

  Time stopped. Her eyes flickered to his and stayed there. Neither of them able to look away as his words reverberated around the room.

  It was no use. What was it they said about good intentions? And if his feet were already set on the path to hell then he might as well enjoy the journey.

  ‘Max?’

  He didn’t know if she had said his name or just mouthed it, but it was too late. He was past the point of thought. Of common sense.

  It took him just two strides to stand before her.

  The blood was rushing through his veins, boiling hot, and his pulse was beating louder, harder than it had ever beat before. There was a deep ache in his chest that could only be assuaged by one thing. By her.

  He stepped closer and waited, a bare millimetre between them. He needed her to make the final move, to show that she was in on this. Whatever ‘this’ was. Whatever ‘in’ meant.

  ‘Ellie?’ Not a command, not even a question. More a query.

  Her eyes were huge, dark, desire mingling with doubt. He could overcome that doubt, kiss it out of her. But he waited. Waited for her to come to him. This had to be her decision.

  His hands tingled, desperate to touch her, but he kept them at his sides.