A Tempestuous Temptation (11 page)

With the lights out, the cup of hot chocolate forgotten and sleep even more elusive than it had been before she had headed down to the kitchen, Aggie wondered about those other women who had given in. He always got what he wanted. What had he wanted? And why on earth would he be attracted to a woman like her? She was pretty enough, but he could certainly get far prettier without the hassle of having any of them question him or argue with him or stubbornly refuse to back down.

Aggie was forced to conclude that there might be truth in the saying that a change was as good as a rest.

She was different, and he had assumed that he could just reach out and pluck her like fruit from a tree, so that he could sample her before tossing her aside to return to the other varieties of fruit with which he was familiar.

It was more troubling to think of her own motivations, because she was far more serious when it came to relationships. So why was she attracted to him? Was there some part of her, hitherto undiscovered, that really was all about the physical? Some hidden part of her, free of restraint, principles and good judgement, that she had never known existed?

More to the point, how on earth were they going to get along now that this disturbing ingredient had been placed in the mix? Would he be cool and distant towards her because she had turned him down?

Aggie knew that she shouldn’t really care but she found that she did. Having seen glimpses of his charm, his intelligence, his sense of humour, she couldn’t bear the thought of having to deal with his coolness.

She found that she need not have worried. At least, not as much as she had. She arrived for breakfast the following morning to find him chatting to Mrs Bixby. Although his expression was unreadable when he looked across to where she was standing a little nervously by the door, he greeted her without any rancour or hostility, drawing her into the conversation he had been having with the older woman. Something about the sights they could take in
en route
, which also involved convoluted anecdotes about Mrs Bixby’s various relatives who lived there. She seemed to have hordes of family members.

Luiz looked at her not looking at him, deliberately keeping her face turned away so that she could pour all her energy into focusing on Mrs Bixby.

He had managed to staunch his immediate reaction to her dismissal of him. He had left her room enraged and baffled at the unpleasant novelty of having been beaten back. The rage and bafflement had been contained, as he had known they would be, because however uncharacteristic his behaviour had been in that moment, he was still a man who was capable of extreme self-control. He would have to shrug her off with the philosophical approach of you win a few, you lose a few. And, if he had never lost any, then this was as good a time as any to discover what it felt like. With a woman who was, in the bigger picture, an insignificant and temporary visitor to his life.

Outside, the snow had abated. Aggie had called the school, vaguely explained and then apologised for her absence. She hadn’t felt all that much better when she had been told that there was nothing to rush back for because the term was nearly over.

‘You know what it’s like here,’ the principal had chuckled. ‘All play and not much work with just a week to go before the holidays. If you have family problems, then don’t feel guilty about taking some time off to sort them out.’

Aggie did feel guilty, though, because the ‘family problems’ were a sluggish mix of her own problems which she was trying to fight a way through and it felt deceitful to give the impression that they were any more widespread than that.

She looked surreptitiously at Luiz and wondered what was going through his head. His deep, sexy voice wafted around her and made her feel a little giddy, as though she was standing on a high wire, looking a long way down.

Eventually, Mrs Bixby left and Luiz asked politely in a friendly voice whether she was packed and ready to go.

‘We might as well take advantage of the break in the weather,’ he said, tossing his serviette onto his plate and
pushing his chair back. ‘It’s not going to last. If you go and bring your bag down, I’ll settle up and meet you by reception.’

So this was how it was going to be, Aggie thought. She knew that she should have been pleased. Pleased that he was being normal. Pleased that there would not be an atmosphere between them. Almost as though nothing had happened at all, as though in the early hours of the morning she hadn’t bumped into him on the landing, he hadn’t strolled into her room wearing nothing but a couple of towels and he certainly hadn’t told her that he wanted her. It could all have been a dream because there was nothing in his expression or in the tone of his voice to suggest otherwise.

There was genuine warmth in Mrs Bixby’s hugs as she waved them off, and finally Aggie twisted back around in her seat and waited for something. Something to be said. Some indication that they had crossed a line. But nothing.

He asked for the address to the foster home and allowed her to programme the satnav, although her fingers fumbled and it took ages before the address was keyed in and their course plotted.

It would take roughly a few hours. Conditions were going to worsen slightly the further north they went. They had been lucky to have found such a pleasant place to stay a couple of nights but they couldn’t risk having to stop again and make do.

Luiz chatted amiably and Aggie was horrified to find that she hated it. Only now was she aware of that spark of electricity that had sizzled between them because it was gone.

When the conversation faltered, he eventually tuned in to the local radio station and they drove without speaking, which gave her plenty of time alone with her thoughts.

In fact, she was barely aware of the motorway giving way to roads, then to streets, and she was shocked when he switched off the radio, stopped the car and said,

‘We seem to be here.’

For the first time since they had started on this uncomfortable trip, Luiz was treated to a smile of such spontaneous delight and pleasure that it took his breath away. He grimly wondered whether there was relief in that smile, relief that she was to be spared more of his company. Whether she was attracted to him or not, she had made it perfectly clear that her fundamental antipathy towards him rendered any physical attraction null and void.

‘It’s been
such
a long time since I was here,’ she breathed fervently, hands clasped on her lap. ‘I just want to sit here for a little while and breathe it in.’

Luiz thought that anyone would be forgiven for thinking that she was a prodigal daughter, returned to her rightful palatial home. Instead, what he saw was an averagely spacious pebble-dashed house with neat gardens on either side of a gravel drive. There was an assortment of outside toys on the grass and the windows of one of the rooms downstairs appeared to have drawings tacked to them. There were trees at the back but the foliage was sparse and unexciting.

‘Same bus,’ she said fondly, drawing his attention to a battered vehicle parked at the side. ‘Betsy’s always complained about it but I think she likes its unpredictability.’

‘It’s not what I imagined.’

‘What did you imagine?’

‘It seems small to house a tribe of children and teenagers.’

‘There are only ever ten children at any one time and it’s bigger at the back. You’ll see. There’s a conservatory—a double conservatory, where Betsy and Gordon can relax
in the evenings while the older ones do their homework. They were always very hot on us doing our homework.’ She turned to him and rested her hand on his forearm. ‘You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to. I mean, the village is only a short drive away, and you can always go there for a coffee or something. You have my mobile number. You can call me when you get fed up and I’ll come.’

‘Not ashamed of me, by any chance, are you?’ His voice was mild but there was an edge to it that took her aback.

‘Of course I’m not! I was … just thinking of you. I know you’re not used to this … er … sort of thing.’

‘Stop stereotyping me!’ Luiz gritted his teeth and she recoiled as though she had been slapped.

He hadn’t complained once when they had been at the bed and breakfast. In fact, he had seemed sincerely impressed with everything about it, and had been the soul of charm to Mrs Bixby. Aggie was suddenly ashamed at the label she had casually dropped on his shoulders and she knew that, whatever his circumstances of birth, and however little he was accustomed to roughing it, he didn’t deserve to be shoved in a box. If she did that, then it was about
her
hang-ups and not his.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly, and he acknowledged the apology with a curt nod.

‘Take your time,’ he told her. ‘I’ll bring that bag in and don’t rush. I’ll watch from the sidelines. I’ve just spent the last few hours driving. I can do without another bout of it so that I can while away some time in a café.’

But he allowed her half an hour to relax in familiar surroundings without him around. He turned his mind to work, although it was difficult to concentrate when he was half-thinking of the drive ahead, half-thinking of her, wondering what it must feel like to be reunited with her pseudo-family. He had thought that she had stopped seeing
him as a one-dimensional cardboard cut-out, but she hadn’t, and could he blame her? He had stormed into her life like a bull in a china shop, had made his agenda clear from the beginning, had pronounced upon the problem and produced his financial solution for sorting it out. In short, he had lived down to all her expectations of someone with money and privilege.

He had never given a passing thought in the past as to how he dealt with other people. He had always been supremely confident of his abilities, his power and the reach of his influence. As the only son from a family whose wealth was bottomless, he had accepted the weight of responsibility for taking over his family’s vast business concerns, adding to them with his own. Alongside that, however, were all the advantages that came with money—including, he reluctantly conceded, an attitude that might or might not be interpreted as arrogant and overbearing.

It was something that had never been brought to his notice, but then again he was surrounded by people who feared and respected him. Would they ever point out anything that might be seen as criticism?

Agatha Collins had no such qualms. She was in a league of her own. She didn’t hold back when it came to pointing out the things she disliked about him although, he mused, she was as quick to apologise if she thought she had been unfair as she was to heap criticism when she thought she had a point. He had found himself in the company of someone who spoke her mind and damned the consequences.

On that thought, he slung his long body out of the car, collected the bag of presents which she had bought the day before and which he could see, as he idly peered into the bag, she had wrapped in very bright, jolly Christmas paper.

The door was pulled open before he had time to hit the
buzzer and he experienced a few seconds of complete disorientation. Sensory overload.

Noise; chaos; children; lots of laughter; the smell of food; colour everywhere in the form of paintings on the walls; coats hanging along the wall; shoes and wellies stacked by the side of the door. Somewhere roundabout mid-thigh area, a small dark-haired boy with enormous brown eyes, an earnest face and chocolate smeared round his mouth stared up at him, announced his name—and also announced that he knew who
he
was, because Aggie had said it would be him, which was why Betsy had allowed him to open the door, because they were
never
allowed to open the door. All of this was said without pause while the noise died down and various other children of varying sizes approached and stared at him.

Luiz had never felt so scrutinised in his life before, nor so lost for something to say. Being the focus of attention of a dozen, unblinking children’s eyes induced immediate seizure of his vocal chords. Always ready with words, he cleared his throat and was immensely relieved when Aggie emerged from a room at the back, accompanied by a woman in her early seventies, tall, stern-looking with grey hair pulled back in a bun. When she smiled, though, her face radiated warmth and he could see from the reaction of the kids that they adored her.

‘You look hassled,’ Aggie whispered when introductions had been made. He was assured by Betsy that pandemonium was not usual in the house but she was being lenient, as it was Christmas, and that he must come and have something to eat, and he needn’t fear that there would be any food throwing at the table.

‘Hassled? I’m never hassled.’ He slid his eyes across to her and raised his eyebrows. ‘Overwhelmed might be a better word.’

Aggie laughed, relaxed and happy. ‘It’s healthy to be overwhelmed every so often.’

‘Thanks. I’ll bear that in mind.’ He was finding it difficult to drag his eyes away from her laughing face. ‘Busy place.’

‘Always. And Betsy is going to insist on showing you around, I’m afraid. She’s very proud of what she’s done with the house.’

They had passed several rooms and were heading towards the back of the house where he could see a huge conservatory that opened out onto masses of land with a small copse at the back, which he imagined would be heaven for the kids here when it was summer and they could go outside.

‘We won’t be here long,’ she promised. ‘There’s a little present-giving Christmas party. It’s been brought forward as I’m here. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Why should I?’ Luiz asked shortly. It irked him immensely that, even though he had mentally decided to write her off, he still couldn’t manage to kill off what she did to his libido. It was also intensely frustrating that he was engaging in an unhealthy tussle with feelings of jealousy. Everyone and everything in this place had the power to put a smile on her face. The kind of smile which she had shown him on rare occasions only.

He didn’t understand this confused flux of emotion and he didn’t like it. He enjoyed being in control of his life and of everything that happened around him. Agatha Collins was very firmly out of his control. If she were any other woman, she would have been flattered at his interest in her, and she wouldn’t have hesitated to come to bed with him. It had been a simple, and in his eyes foolproof, proposition.