Married Under The Mistletoe. Линда Гуднайт

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СКАЧАТЬ Mr Valentine was trying hard to make up for lost time.

      “All right, then. I have a few minutes.” She really should go, get away from him while she could still carry on a lucid conversation. Trouble was he’d be here when she came back.

      In the kitchen, she poured tea into two china cups and set them on the small breakfast bar.

      Daniel, instead of taking a seat, made himself at home by rummaging about for milk and sugar. In the narrow kitchen, they bumped once. Stephanie shifted away, rounding the bar to sit opposite him. If Daniel noticed her avoidance, he didn’t react.

      Instead, he slouched into the straight-backed white chair and splashed a generous amount of milk into the cup. Stephanie had never embraced the English penchant for milk in her tea. She did, however, favor sugar. In abundance.

      “Tsk. Tsk. Three sugars?” Daniel murmured when she’d doused her cup. “Bad girl.”

      An unwanted female reaction skittered through her. The words were innocent enough, but his sexy tone gave them new meaning. Either that or she was losing touch with reality.

      She inclined her head. “Now you know.”

      A black eyebrow kicked upward. “Sweet tooth?”

      “A decidedly evil one. Grabs me in the middle of the night sometimes.” Why was she telling him this?

      “You don’t look the part.” His laser-blue gaze drifted over her slim body, hesitating a millisecond too long.

      “I jog. I also have enormous self-control.” Like now, when I really want you out of my flat, but I can’t say so.

      “Don’t tell me you never sneak down to the restaurant for cheesecake and chocolate sauce?”

      She smiled in spite of herself. “How did you guess?”

      Small crinkles appeared around his eyes. The African sun had been kind to him. “Because that’s what I’d do if I lived over a restaurant.”

      “Which you now do.” Unfortunately.

      “But you hold the keys to the Bella Lucia.”

      She stirred the spoon round and round in her cup. “There is that.”

      “Think I can persuade you to make your midnight runs with me in tow?”

      Perhaps not, big boy.

      Without comment, she lifted her cup and sipped.

      Daniel did likewise, eyelids dropping in a soft sigh of appreciation. Stephanie had a hard time not staring. Though she was loath to admit it, Daniel Stephens was a stunningly attractive man.

      “Can’t get tea like this where I’ve been,” he said, clattering the cup onto the saucer.

      “Tell me about Africa.” As she’d done countless times, Stephanie slipped into hostess mode, tucking away real feelings to skim the surface of civilized conversation. “Your father’s very proud of what you’ve done there.”

      His face, so full of pleasure moments before, closed up tight. “My father doesn’t know a thing about my work.”

      And from the stormy look of him, Stephanie figured John might never know. Her boss might want to mend fences with his sons, but this one had some hostility that might not be so easily overcome.

      Daniel’s anger reminded her of the kids she sometimes worked with in special art classes. There, where she volunteered her time teaching troubled children to paint, she had learned to listen as well as to share simple techniques of line and color.

      In the same quiet voice she used to encourage those kids, she said, “Would you tell me about it?”

      Forearms on the table edge, he linked his fingers and leaned forward. Too close again. The man had an unpleasant habit of invading her space. Stephanie tilted back a few inches.

      “The work is rewarding and equally frustrating,” he said.

      So he’d chosen to sidestep the issue of his father and move on to the safer ground of Africa. She didn’t know why she’d felt compelled to dig into his personal life in the first place. The less she knew about him, the better.

      “Is that why you quit?”

      “I didn’t quit. I’ll never quit,” he said vehemently. “But I’ve finally realized that I can make more of a difference here than I can there.”

      She frowned, not following. “How?”

      “To build sustainable, safe water systems takes money and expertise. I’m a civil engineer. I’ve spent my whole life dealing with the problem. I have the expertise. What I lack is that vulgar little commodity called money.”

      “So you’re back in England to raise money, then.”

      “In a manner of speaking. I’m starting my own business, contracting water projects throughout England. The demand is high, especially in the area of flood control. A man who has the right skills and contacts can make a fortune.”

      Maybe he was as giving as John had indicated. “And you’re planning to use that money to fund projects in Africa?”

      “It’s the best way I can think of.” He shoved a hand over dark, unruly hair. “That’s why I’m grateful to you for sharing this flat, and that’s also why I agreed to the arrangement in the first place. I dislike accepting favors, particularly from my father, but the less spent on living expenses, the more I can spare for Ethiopia.”

      Despite her determination not to get too close, Stephanie’s opinion of Daniel rose several notches. He had a caring heart, at least where the needy in Africa were concerned. This knowledge gave her hope that he would not be difficult to room with. If her luck held out, he would keep his distance until the business was started and he could afford his own place to live.

      And this brought her to the question that had burned on her mind since that first telephone call from Mr Valentine. Just exactly how long would all that take? How long would she have this disturbing, intriguing, terrifying man living in her flat?

      Because, for her own protection and peace of mind, the sooner he was gone, the better.

      CHAPTER TWO

      SURREPTITIOUSLY, Daniel watched the stunning red-haired woman from behind his teacup. The moment she’d opened the door he’d lost his breath, knocked out by the sheer beauty of her long legs, slim, shapely body, and the long, wavy just-got-out-of-bed hairstyle. Though her dress was mid-calf and modest, his first, very wayward thoughts had been of sex, a natural male reaction that he’d reined in right away. Mostly. He’d once had a penchant for redheads and, if his body’s reaction was an accurate indicator, he still did. But he was here on business. And business it would remain.

      A few minutes in her company, however, had told him what the old man hadn’t. That she wasn’t all that thrilled to have him here. But he was here and planned to stick around. And it didn’t hurt at all that his flatmate was gorgeous and smelled incredible as well. He could look, СКАЧАТЬ