The Seduction Game by Sara Craven

shut up here while we paint.’
    ‘He’s fine, as long as he’s with people he likes.’ Adam smiled at her. ‘He got pretty excited last evening when he saw you on the riverbank. He thought you were coming to pay us a visit. I thought maybe you were there to complain about the music. I hope it didn’t disturb you.’
    Not in the way you’d suppose, Tara thought.
    Aloud, she said, ‘No—I enjoyed what I could hear of it. Especially the Delius. It took me back to a concert I went to last summer.’
    ‘At the Festival Hall?’ Adam’s brows lifted. ‘I was there too.’ His smile widened, teasing her. ‘You see—we’re not really new friends at all. We’ve been involved for a year already.’
    ‘Not,’ she said, ‘an argument that would stand close examination.’ She pushed back her chair and rose. ‘I’ll wash up, and then get on with painting the woodwork. Thanks for all your help. I’ll be finished in half the time now.’
    Adam got to his feet too. ‘Do I take it you’re dispensing with my services?’ He was still smiling, but his eyes were grave.
    Tara shrugged, trying for nonchalance. ‘Well, you must have plenty of other things to do. You’re on holiday, after all.’
    ‘So I am,’ he said. ‘A working holiday, like yours.’ He walked unhurriedly round the table and stood in front of her.
    Too close, she thought, for comfort.
    He said, ‘Tara, why do you want to push me away all the time?’
    ‘It’s not that—really.’ Her protest sounded small and rather breathless. ‘I don’t want to be a nuisance—making calls on your time.’
    ‘You’re not.’ He reached out and brushed a strand of hair gently back from her forehead.
    The kind of casual caress, she thought raggedly, that he’d have bestowed on either of the animals, and felt her body arch and stir with the same feral pleasure.
    ‘So am I allowed to claim my reward?’ The blue eyes held hers, watchful, even faintly amused, as if he’d sensed her instinctive reaction.
    Her throat seemed to close up. ‘That would rather depend—on what you want.’
    ‘Nothing too drastic.’ Quite slowly and deliberately, he clasped his hands behind his back.
    As if, she thought, staring fixedly at a spot of paint on his sweatshirt, he was keeping them out of possible mischief. But if that was meant to be a gesture of reassurance then it had misfired badly. And had come far too late.
    Despite the layers of clothing that divided them, she could feel the warmth of his body reaching her. Absorb the clean, male scent of him through every pore. Common sense suggested she should step backwards—remove herself from the danger zone. But for the life of her she could not summon the will to move.
    ‘I’d simply like you to go out for a drink with me tonight.’ His voice seemed to reach her from a vast distance. ‘There’s a folk band playing at the Black Horse in the village. I thought we could go there.’
    She tried to think of an excuse, but nothing remotely convincing came to mind, and nothing less than total conviction would do. She knew that. Because it was important not to let him guess just how shaken she was by his proximity.
    Being alone with him was not an option she should pursue, but, on the other hand, a pub in the village was probably just about as public—and as safe—as it could get.
    She didn’t put her own hands behind her back. That, she thought, would have been too obvious.
    Instead, she picked up her used plate and cutlery from the table and carried them over to the sink. Out of harm’s way.
    Over her shoulder, she gave Adam a brief, non-committal smile.
    ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’d like that.’
    ‘Then I’ll pick you up about eight.’ His voice sounded quiet, almost formal.
    She heard him cross the room, the dog padding beside him, and go down the passage. Then the closing of the front door.
    She leaned against the sink and bowed her head.
    She thought, What have I done? And, dear God, what am I