Add to all that the fact that she was also extremely wet and cold and ‘fine’ was just about as far from describing her condition as it was possible to get.
Brad obviously thought so too, because instead of accepting her polite disclaimer as his British counterpart would have done he immediately rejected it, exclaiming curtly, ‘Like hell you are! You’re soaking wet through and shivering fit to bust. Come on… let’s get you into the car and home. What you need right now is a shower—a proper shower, good and hot and stinging, not these apologies for showers you have over here—followed by an equally hot, stinging drink… Are you OK?’ he added. ‘Can you walk as far as the car or would you like me to carry you?’
Would she like him to what?
Claire forgot for a moment that he still had both his arms around her, and her chin came shooting up proudly as she tipped her head back to look at him. Only it wasn’t his eyes which her own were on a level with. It was his mouth.
Dizzily Claire stared at it, her tongue-tip hesitantly touching her own, suddenly dry lips; a swarm of confusing and unfamiliar emotions invaded her dazed senses.
The rain had soaked her hair, causing it to curl in soft ringlet tendrils around her face, making her, although she didn’t know it, look closer to twenty-four than thirty-four. In the streetlight her skin had a luminous, transparent quality that made Brad want to reach out and touch it. British women had such delicate, pale skin, and Claire, with her fine-boned frame, had an added delicacy, a fragility almost, that aroused in him emotions…
The close contact with his body was warming her own, comforting it—an unfamiliar sensation to Claire and one that she instinctively responded to, luxuriated in on a level that was somehow beyond the jurisdiction of her normal strict self-control. Without realising what she was doing she nestled closer, exhaling her breath on a soft feminine sigh.
The hammer-blows of two different consecutive shocks had left her emotionally concussed, her senses and her emotions wandering blindly through an unfamiliar landscape where Brad was the only familiar landmark. Instinctively she clung to it… to him, her eyes huge and dazed in her pale face as she continued to focus on his mouth.
His mouth… It was strange to think that she had already been kissed by it. By him. Strange and dangerous and yet at the same time somehow headily exciting, alluring… with all the dark magic of something dangerous and forbidden.
She wanted to reach out and touch it, to trace its male shape, to…
The blare of a car horn on the opposite side of the road made her jump abruptly, bringing her back to reality, to normality.
Her face on fire with self-conscious anger and embarrassment, she tried to step back from Brad, shocked and confused by what she had been thinking—feeling.
‘Come on; let’s get you in the car,’ he told her firmly, his voice as matter-of-fact as if it was not a very unfamiliar or shocking thing for him to have a woman staring up at his mouth… as though… as though… But then, perhaps it wasn’t… She knew very little about him, after all, Claire reminded herself as she gave in and allowed him to walk her gently towards his car.
‘I’m sorry I gave you such a bad shock,’ she heard him apologising after he had helped her into her seat.
Claire couldn’t bring herself to look at him and instead busied herself trying to fasten her seat belt. Her fingers felt numb and stiff, her actions slow and clumsy.
‘It’s just that I was on my way back from the office and I saw you coming out of the school and—Here, let me help you with that,’ he offered, and without waiting for her agreement he gently pushed her hands away, leaning across her as he reached for the recalcitrant seat belt.
His hair was still damp and she could smell the cold, fresh scent of the rain on his hair and his skin. The nape of his neck, exposed as he leaned across her, was warmly tanned, unlike her own much paler skin. The rain had made his hair start to curl slightly.
A soft smile touched her mouth. She lifted her hand and then froze, her body stiffening in horror as she realised what she had been about to do. What on earth had come over her? The very idea… The mere thought of reaching out voluntarily to touch a man’s skin… his hair… to stroke her fingers slowly through those almost boyish curls, to straighten them… was so alien to her, to everything that she was, that she could hardly believe she had actually been about to do it.
It took Brad’s anxious, ‘What’s wrong? Is it your hip? I saw how hard he knocked you when he ran into you. It’s bound to be bruised…’ to bring her to her senses.
Claire felt the relief flooding through her as she realised that he thought her tension came from physical pain and hadn’t understood…
‘It’s fine. I’m fine,’ she told him brusquely.
‘No, you’re not,’ Brad corrected her gently.
He was still leaning over her, looking directly into her eyes, and her heart gave a fierce bound as she tried unsuccessfully to look into his.
‘You’re probably as sore as hell… You’ve had a pretty nasty shock… a very nasty shock, I should say,’ he amended, ‘if the way you reacted earlier is anything to go by. Tell me, do you—?’
‘I… I just don’t like being touched,’ Claire blurted out, terrified of what he might be going to ask her, to force her to reveal…’Some people just don’t…’
She was willing the betraying colour not to seep up under her skin as she made herself meet his steady scrutiny and willing herself as well not to remember the way she had practically snuggled deeper into his arms such a very short time ago, praying at the same time that he wouldn’t say anything about that either.
To her relief he didn’t, saying only, ‘No, some people don’t,’ before giving her seat belt a small testing tug to make sure that it was fastened and then turning away from her to secure his own and start the car.
‘I’ll walk you to the door,’ Brad announced after he had completed the short journey to her house.
But Claire shook her head quickly, her voice slightly huskier than normal as she said, ‘No, no, it’s all right…’
As he hesitated she added quickly, ‘It’s still raining and there’s no point in you getting wet again. I’ve got my keys here and…’
For a moment Claire thought that he was going to insist on going with her; his body tensed and hers did too, but then he seemed to change his mind, simply telling her, ‘Don’t forget that hot shower or that drink. I’m not sure what time I’ll be through with the hotel in the morning but I’d like to bring my stuff over before lunch if that fits in with your schedule. I’ve got an appointment with our bankers in the afternoon and then in the evening we can talk terms.’
‘Yes. Yes, morning will be fine,’ Claire confirmed.
As he watched her run towards her door through the still heavy rain Brad wondered if he was doing the right thing. There was no denying that the feeling she aroused in him, his desire for her, was more than just a subliminal male impulse.
Earlier, holding her in his arms in the street, watching the way she had looked at him… at his mouth…
Come on, he warned himself; you haven’t flown right the way across the Atlantic ocean to mess up your life with those kinda complications, to get hung up on a woman who may or may not be involved with another man.
And he wasn’t the sort to want to indulge in some kind of casual, no commitment, no future type of sexual fling. Nor, he judged, was she. Which meant… which meant that he’d better put the thoughts and desires which had been running wild through his head virtually ever since he had met her way, way