Trouble on Her Doorstep. Nina Harrington

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СКАЧАТЬ dared not, simply leap out of the way and let this man, whoever he was, fall forward, flat on his face and hurt himself.

      So she did the only thing she could think of in that split second.

      She swept his legs out from under him.

      It seemed to make perfect sense at the time.

      Her left leg stepped forward to his left side as she reached up and grabbed hold of the soggy right sleeve of his rather elegant long dark-wool coat and pulled him towards her.

      Then she swept her right leg out, hooked her ballet pump behind his left ankle and flipped him over sideways. By keeping a tight hold on his coat sleeve, even though it was wet and slimy, she took his weight so that instead of falling flat on his back his besuited bottom hit the wooden floor instead.

      It was actually a rather good side judo foot sweep, which broke his fall and took his weight at the same time. Result!

      Her old martial arts tutor would have been proud.

      Shame that the two middle buttons on what she could now see was a very smart cashmere coat popped open with the strain and went spinning off onto the floor under one of the tables. But it was worth it. Instead of flying across the floor to join them, her male visitor sat down in a long, heavy slow slump instead. No apparent harm done.

      Dee’s fingers slowly slid away from the moist fabric of his coat sleeve and his arm flopped down onto his knees.

      She closed the front door and then sat back on her ankles on the floor so that she could look at him from about the same height.

      And then look again.

      Oh, my. Those blue-grey eyes were not the only thing that was startling. For a start he seemed to be wearing the kind of business suit she had last seen on the bank manager who had grudgingly agreed to give the bank loan on the tea room. Only softer and shinier and much, much more expensive. Not that she had much experience of men in suits, but she knew fabric.

      And then there was the hair. The sleet had turned to a cold drizzle and his short dark-brown hair was curled into moist waves around his ears and onto his collar. Bringing into sharp focus a face which might have come from a Renaissance painting: all dark shadows and sharp cheekbones. Although the baggy tired eyes could probably use some of her special home-sewn tea bags to compensate for his late nights in the office.

      Blimey! She had just swept the legs out from under the best looking man she had seen in a long time and that included the boys from the gym across the street, who stoked up on serious amounts of carbs before hitting the body-sculpting classes.

      Men like this did not normally knock on her door....ever. Maybe her luck had finally changed for once.

      A smile slid across Dee’s mouth, before the sensible part of her brain which was not bedazzled by a handsome face decided to make an appearance.

      So what was he doing here? And who was he?

      Why not ask him and find out?

      ‘Hello,’ she said, peering into his face and telling her hormones to sit down. ‘Sorry about that, but I was worried that you might hurt yourself when you fell into the shop. How are you doing down there?’

      * * *

      How was he doing?

      Sean Beresford pushed himself up on one elbow and took a few seconds to gather his wits and refocus on what looked like a smart café or bistro, although it was hard to tell since he was sitting on the floor.

      Looking straight ahead of him, Sean could see cake stands, teapots and a blackboard which told him that the all-day special was cheese-and-leek quiche followed by an organic dark-chocolate brownie and as much Assam tea as he could drink.

      Sean stared at the board and chuckled out loud. He could use some of that quiche and tea.

      This was turning out to be quite a day.

      It had started out in Melbourne what felt like a lifetime ago, followed by a very long flight, where he had probably managed three or four hours of sleep. And then there had been the joy of a manic hour at Heathrow airport where it soon became blindingly obvious that he had boarded the plane, but his luggage had not.

      One more reason why he did not want to be sitting on this floor wearing the only suit of clothes that he possessed until the airline tracked down his bag.

      Sean shuffled to a sitting position using the back of a very hard wooden chair for support, knees up, back straight, exhaled slowly and lifted his head.

      And stared into two of the most startling pale-green eyes that he had ever seen.

      So green that they dominated a small oval face framed by short dark-brown hair which was pushed behind neat ears. At this distance he could see that her creamy skin was flawless apart from what looked like cake crumbs which were stuck to the side of a smiling mouth.

      A mouth meant to appease and please. A mouth which was so used to smiling that she had laughter lines on either side, even though she couldn’t be over twenty-five.

      What the hell had just happened?

      He shuffled his bottom a little and stretched out his legs. Nothing broken or hurting. That was a surprise.

      ‘Anything I can get you?’ The brunette asked in a light, fun voice. ‘Blanket? Cocktail?’

      Sean sighed out loud and shook his head at how totally ridiculous he must look at that moment.

      So much for being a top hotel executive!

      He was lucky that the hotel staff relying on him to sort out the disaster he had just walked into straight from the airport could not see him now.

      They might think twice about putting their faith in Tom Beresford’s son.

      ‘Not at the moment, thank you,’ he murmured with a short nod.

      Her eyebrows squeezed tight together. She bent forward a little and pressed the palm of one hand onto his forehead, and her gaze seemed to scan his face.

      Her fingers were warm and soft and the sensation of that simple contact of her skin against his forehead was so startling and unexpected that Sean’s breath caught in his throat at the reaction of his body at that simple connection.

      Her voice was even warmer, with a definite accent that told him that she has spent a lot of time in Asia.

      ‘You don’t seem to have a temperature. But it is cold outside. Don’t worry. You’ll soon warm up.’

      It he did not have a temperature now, he soon would have, judging by the amount of cleavage this girl was flashing him as she leant closer.

      Her chest was only inches away from his face and he sat back a little to more fully appreciate the view. She was wearing one of those strange slinky sweaters that his sister Annika liked to wear on her rare weekend visits. Only Annika wore a T-shirt underneath so that when it slithered off one shoulder she had something to cover her modesty.

      This girl was not wearing a T-shirt and a tiny strip of purple lace seemed to be all that was holding up her СКАЧАТЬ