as he read the brief flash of hurt and helplessness in her eyes. Were adults deliberately cruel to troubled teenagers, or was it simply that they didn’t know how to handle them?
But maybe she’d always been difficult to handle—in so many ways. Right now she looked like every teenage boy’s fantasy in her wet shirt, with his bulky jacket draped around her slender shoulders, making far too many lustful thoughts crowd his mind. ‘I’ll show you around the house so you have plenty of time to acclimatise yourself before the party, but the guided tour can wait until later. First you need to get out of those wet clothes.’
As soon as the words had left his lips he wanted to take them back, because they sounded like the words a man would say to a woman just before he began touching her. Silently chastising himself for his own foolishness, he got out of the car and opened the door for her.
Still hugging his jacket to her, Amber followed him inside the house into a huge oak-panelled hallway from which curved a majestic staircase. Enormous bucketfuls of white flowers stood on the floor, obviously waiting to be transplanted into vases, and she could hear the sound of female voices coming from a room somewhere and a radio playing in the distance.
‘Last-minute party prep,’ he said, in reply to a question she hadn’t asked. ‘You’ll meet the team later. Now come with me and I’ll show you to your room.’
Her clothes were still clinging damply to her body and Amber guessed she should have been cold—but cold was the last thing she felt right now. Her blood felt heavy and warm as she followed Conall upstairs and her heart was beating painfully against her ribcage. She barely noticed the beautifully restored woodwork or the walls covered with paintings, so fixated was she on the hard thrust of his buttocks against the black denim of his jeans. She could feel her throat growing dry as she stared at the back of his neck, unable to tear her gaze away. With his black hair curling over the collar of his cashmere sweater and his muscular physique rippling with health and strength, he looked in total command of the situation, which she guessed he was. But the weird thing was that she didn’t do this. She didn’t drool over men who treated her as if she were a naughty schoolgirl. Truth was, she didn’t drool over anyone. She bit her lip as she remembered the accusations which had been levelled at her in the past. Cold. Frigid. Ice queen. Valid accusations, every one of them. Yet when Conall looked at her, he made her want to melt, not freeze.
Pushing open the door of a second-floor bedroom overlooking the parkland at the back of the house, he put her case down. ‘You should be comfortable enough in here,’ he said abruptly.
Amber glanced around, suddenly shy to find herself alone in a bedroom with him. Comfortable was an understatement for such a lavish room and she was grateful he’d given her somewhere so lovely to sleep, with its heavy velvet drapes and enormous four-poster bed. She looked up into his face, knowing she ought to be asking intelligent questions about the forthcoming party but it was difficult when all she could think about was the curve of his lips and the shadowed roughness of his jaw.
‘What time do you need me?’ she said, her words sounding jerky as she moistened the roof of her mouth with her tongue.
‘Come downstairs at around seven and I’ll show you the painting. The Prince is arriving at eight-fifteen and his timetable is worked out to the nearest second. I’d better warn you that lateness won’t be tolerated when you’re dealing with royals.’
‘I won’t be late, Conall.’ Amber took off his jacket and handed it to him, feeling chilled as the leather left her skin and missing the subtle scent which was all his. ‘And thanks for lending me this.’
But he didn’t take the jacket from her. He just stood there as if someone had turned him to stone. His brilliant eyes gleamed from between the dark lashes and his golden skin suddenly seemed taut over his cheekbones. ‘You know, you’re really going to have to stop doing this, Amber,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve given you several chances but my patience is wearing thin and, in the end, I’m only made out of flesh and blood—the same as any other man.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Oh, come on.’ His voice was edged with a note of irritation. ‘There are many parts you play exceedingly well, but innocence isn’t one of them. Much more of those big green eyes gazing at me like that and licking at your lips like a cat which has just seen a mouse—and I’ll be forced to kiss you, whether I want to or not.’
Amber looked at him, genuinely confused. ‘Why would you even consider kissing me if you didn’t want to?’
He laughed, but his laugh contained something dark and unknown and Amber felt as if she were a non-swimmer paddling on the edge of the shore, not noticing the powerful tug of the undercurrent edging towards her.
‘Because you’re not my kind of woman and because I am, in effect, your employer.’ His voice dipped to a silken whisper. ‘But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.’
His unmistakable passion mixed with the complexity of her own feelings filled Amber with a sudden sense of power and she tilted her chin to look at him defiantly. ‘Well, if you really want to kiss me that badly, why don’t you just go ahead and do it?’
‘I don’t kiss women who smoke.’
There was a pause. ‘But I haven’t had a cigarette since that day I came to your office.’
‘You haven’t?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Why not?’
Should she tell him the truth? Because he’d told her she smelt disgusting and had made her feel dirty. But mainly because she’d wanted to show him she could. Somehow Conall Devlin had succeeded where two very expensive hypnotherapy courses had failed, and she’d quit smoking without a single craving.
‘Because I am at heart a very obedient woman.’ Shamelessly she batted her eyelashes at him. ‘Didn’t you know that?’
It was provocation pure and simple and Conall felt something inside him snap, like a piece of elastic which had been stretched beyond endurance. He heard the roar of blood in his ears and felt the jerk of an erection pushing hard against his jeans as he found himself pulling her into his arms and breathing in her warmth.
‘The only thing I know is that you are a stubborn and defiant woman who has tested me beyond endurance,’ he said, his voice rough. ‘And maybe this has been inevitable all along.’
She stared into his eyes. ‘You’re going to put me across your lap and smack my bottom?’
‘Is that what you’d like? Maybe later. But not right now. Right now I’m going to kiss you—but be warned that this is going to spoil you for anyone else. Are you prepared for that, Amber? That every man who kisses you after this is going to make you remember me and ache for me?’
‘You are so arrogant,’ she accused.
But her lips were parting and Conall knew she wanted this just as much as him. Maybe more—for he caught a flash of hunger in her darkening eyes. Sliding one hand around her waist while the other cushioned her still-damp hair, he lowered his mouth onto hers. And didn’t part of him want her to have lied to him—to discover the stale odour of tobacco on those soft lips so that he could pull away in disgust?
But she hadn’t lied. She tasted of peppermint and she smelt of daisies and the way she melted into his body was like throwing a match onto a pile of bone-dry timber. He groaned as he felt the stony stud of her nipples pressing against him and he reached down to cup one between his thumb and forefinger, enjoying the way she squirmed beneath his touch and whispered his name. He was so hard that he was afraid that his jeans might rip open all by themselves and, with something which sounded like a roar, he pushed her against the open door, so that it rocked crazily beneath the sudden urgent force of their bodies.
They kissed as if they’d just discovered how to kiss. Her arms were reaching up to his shoulders, as if she was trying to stop herself from sliding to the ground, and as Conall nudged his thigh between hers he was tempted to do just that. To lay her down on the hard floorboards and rip off their clothes and just take her, as he had been wanting