Snowbound Seduction by Helen Brooks

wrong, I’m not complaining.’ He reached out and smoothed a lock of hair from her cheek, his fingers stroking her throat for an infinitesimal moment. ‘It’s just not what I’d got in mind for you this weekend, that’s all.’
    Not what she’d had in mind either. Especially the double bed.
    â€˜I was going to wow you with Martin’s mansion and his umpteen acres, including a trout lake and stables and what have you, not to mention the indoor leisure complex and swarm of servants. Instead…’ his eyesnarrowed sexily and his mouth curved in a self-derisive smile ‘…there’s just me and Gulliver’s room.’
    Rachel’s stomach flipped over. As a seduction technique it was very good. He’d obviously had a lot of practice in that department. So why, knowing that, did her traitorous body respond so fiercely? She cleared her throat, determined to gain control. And she might have done if Zac hadn’t chosen that moment to kiss her again. Drawing her into his arms, he lifted her chin, tilting her face so he could gain full access to her mouth. The kiss wasn’t threatening; in fact, it was gentle—an unbelievably slow, erotic exploration that melted her bones. The desire that had sent her blood racing from the first moment she’d set eyes on him became longing; he kissed better than Giles or any of her other boyfriends, better than she would have dreamt possible. All her fantasies rolled into one.
    His lips caressed her throat, her eyelids, the corners of her mouth, sweeping away caution and reason so that when he took her lips again she kissed him back. His mouth was urgent, hungry, and the taste, the delicious smell of him spun in her head. He moved slightly, moulding her into him so she fitted more comfortably into his hard frame, and she felt his strength, his desire against her softness.
    The sound of a door opening downstairs brought them apart. As someone came out into the hall below and then began to climb the stairs, Zac took her arm, moving her along the landing as though they’d just left their room. He seemed totally unperturbed and in control, and to Rachel’s fevered senses it was like a sharp slap across the face.
    She forced her mind into automatic so she could cope with returning the polite ‘Good evening’ the rosy-cheeked walker gave them as he passed at the top of the stairs, and then as she descended to the hall with Zac behind her, she clenched her teeth, breathing through her nose. This whole thing, their—what? flirtation, brief dalliance, game—meant little to Zac beyond a mild spot of intrigue to while away the spare hours while he was in England. His reaction to what she had considered the most mind-blowing experience of her life was proof of that. He hadn’t felt an iota of what she had.
    Tears pricked at the back of her eyes and she blinked them away fiercely, angry at her weakness. She was not going to cry; she was not going to give him any inkling of what that kiss had done to her. This had been a timely reminder from her guardian angel that men were as different from women as chalk to cheese. A man’s emotions were all tied up with a certain part of his anatomy that—once satisfied—moved on to the next conquest. How many times did she have to learn the same lesson, for goodness’ sake? She was stupid, so stupid.
    Rachel marched through to the pub lounge without looking behind her or waiting for Zac, pushing open the door and stepping into the noisy room with her head held high. Jennie and Susan would have recognised the attitude of bravado: they’d witnessed it many times in the aftermath of Giles’s betrayal. They would have understood that from childhood Rachel had become adept at disguising her feelings and that wearing her heart on her sleeve was alien to her. She walked over to the table by the fire the landlady had mentioned and sat down, Zac a step behind her.