![Scorpion [Scorpions 01]](https://fs.ageofbook.com/604425/thumbs/152x264/scorpion-scorpions-01.jpg)
but he failed. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘Maybe it’s time I left.’
Chris leaned over and took his empty coffee cup. ‘How about another drink?’
She crossed the room and filled both their cups from the warm pot. A slight noise caught her attention. She crossed to a window and eased back the curtain. Heavy rain had started to fall, large drops spattering against the glass. Chris let the curtain fall back into place. She took the coffee and returned to the armchairs. Placing the cups on the low table she knelt before the wide fireplace and turned on the gas-fire set at the back of the hearth.
‘It’s raining like mad out there,’ she said.
Allan groaned wearily, the thought of dragging himself out into the wet night filling him with disgust. He felt the warmth reaching out from the gas-fire. Chris handed him the cup of coffee.
‘No need to rush off,’ she said.
They sat and talked, listened to the rain slapping against the cottage, watched the comforting glow spill out from the fire. Much later Chris excused herself and vanished upstairs. Allan sat up, stretching lazily. He glanced at his watch and saw with a shock that it was well past midnight. He heard the rain beating against the windows, felt the pull of the armchair and muttered, sod it, as he lay back. Lulled by the warmth of the fire Allan’s eyes drooped…
He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and jerked awake. The room was in semi-darkness. Allan turned his head and saw Chris kneeling beside his chair. He stared at her, his mind still muzzy from sleep.
‘Do you think you could climb the stairs?’ she asked softly.
‘Stairs?’ he asked, puzzled.
‘Yes. It’s time you were in bed, Doctor Brady.’
She helped him stand up, then took his hand and led him across the room and up the short flight of stairs. He was too sleepy to raise any protest - even if he’d wanted to. By the time they reached the top of the stairs Allan had realized there was something different about Chris. The yellow suit had gone, replaced by a thin robe that molded itself to her supple young figure. He was still enjoying the view of her shapely rear when Chris took him through a door and into a bedroom.
‘I’m afraid it’s the only one I’ve got,’ she said, without too much of an apology in her tone. ‘But the bed’s rather on the large size.’
It was the least subtle invitation Allan Brady had ever received from a woman - but at that moment it might have been the most sophisticated. He turned, just as Chris switched off the light. The room dimmed, only a pale glimmer of light shafting in through the uncurtained window.
‘Can you manage?’ Chris’s voice whispered out of the shadows.
Allan began to form some witty remark, but his voice had translated itself into an unintelligible croak that made him sound like an amorous frog. He kept quiet and undressed as casually as he could. Somewhere across the room he heard the bed creak very gently, heard the soft glide of flesh against cotton sheets. He padded across the room, bumping against the side of the bed, and groped his way in. Pulling the covers over him he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. There was a brief silence.
‘It’s not that large,’ Chris said out of the darkness, and for a moment Allan wondered if she knew something he didn’t. Then he realized she was referring to the size of the bed, and the absurdity of his thoughts almost caused him to burst out laughing. ‘Well, is it?’ Chris asked.
‘I’ll time you if you come on over,’ he said.
She giggled softly and slid across to him. Her slim, warm hands touched his face, soft lips seeking his. Allan drew his arms around her lovely body, pulling her tight against him, and that was how they stayed. For the moment it was enough.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The rain
Chris leaned over and took his empty coffee cup. ‘How about another drink?’
She crossed the room and filled both their cups from the warm pot. A slight noise caught her attention. She crossed to a window and eased back the curtain. Heavy rain had started to fall, large drops spattering against the glass. Chris let the curtain fall back into place. She took the coffee and returned to the armchairs. Placing the cups on the low table she knelt before the wide fireplace and turned on the gas-fire set at the back of the hearth.
‘It’s raining like mad out there,’ she said.
Allan groaned wearily, the thought of dragging himself out into the wet night filling him with disgust. He felt the warmth reaching out from the gas-fire. Chris handed him the cup of coffee.
‘No need to rush off,’ she said.
They sat and talked, listened to the rain slapping against the cottage, watched the comforting glow spill out from the fire. Much later Chris excused herself and vanished upstairs. Allan sat up, stretching lazily. He glanced at his watch and saw with a shock that it was well past midnight. He heard the rain beating against the windows, felt the pull of the armchair and muttered, sod it, as he lay back. Lulled by the warmth of the fire Allan’s eyes drooped…
He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and jerked awake. The room was in semi-darkness. Allan turned his head and saw Chris kneeling beside his chair. He stared at her, his mind still muzzy from sleep.
‘Do you think you could climb the stairs?’ she asked softly.
‘Stairs?’ he asked, puzzled.
‘Yes. It’s time you were in bed, Doctor Brady.’
She helped him stand up, then took his hand and led him across the room and up the short flight of stairs. He was too sleepy to raise any protest - even if he’d wanted to. By the time they reached the top of the stairs Allan had realized there was something different about Chris. The yellow suit had gone, replaced by a thin robe that molded itself to her supple young figure. He was still enjoying the view of her shapely rear when Chris took him through a door and into a bedroom.
‘I’m afraid it’s the only one I’ve got,’ she said, without too much of an apology in her tone. ‘But the bed’s rather on the large size.’
It was the least subtle invitation Allan Brady had ever received from a woman - but at that moment it might have been the most sophisticated. He turned, just as Chris switched off the light. The room dimmed, only a pale glimmer of light shafting in through the uncurtained window.
‘Can you manage?’ Chris’s voice whispered out of the shadows.
Allan began to form some witty remark, but his voice had translated itself into an unintelligible croak that made him sound like an amorous frog. He kept quiet and undressed as casually as he could. Somewhere across the room he heard the bed creak very gently, heard the soft glide of flesh against cotton sheets. He padded across the room, bumping against the side of the bed, and groped his way in. Pulling the covers over him he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. There was a brief silence.
‘It’s not that large,’ Chris said out of the darkness, and for a moment Allan wondered if she knew something he didn’t. Then he realized she was referring to the size of the bed, and the absurdity of his thoughts almost caused him to burst out laughing. ‘Well, is it?’ Chris asked.
‘I’ll time you if you come on over,’ he said.
She giggled softly and slid across to him. Her slim, warm hands touched his face, soft lips seeking his. Allan drew his arms around her lovely body, pulling her tight against him, and that was how they stayed. For the moment it was enough.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The rain
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