one got through to him like Stacey, who had made a mockery of his intentions to save her from him. Saving her for him made more sense right now—especially when, in a moment of complete madness, he had felt moved to enclose her face in his hands in the boot room to give her a brief, reassuring kiss—on the cheek, but still… What the hell had he been thinking? It was bad enough they were here, trapped together in his chalet overnight, without him making things worse. So much for good intentions! She’d ridden roughshod over his control.
What alternative did he have? With many of his guests having arrived early to make the most of their trip, he could use all the people he could get, both up here and down at the hotel. Stacey’s team was in place in the village while she was here, ready to act on any changes to her plans for the party brought on by the weather.
At least she appeared to be following orders for once. For now. Maria had reported back that warm clothes had been delivered to Stacey’s suite of rooms, and she was enjoying a bath. She could stay one night, but no longer. His libido couldn’t take it. He had nothing to offer Stacey that she’d be interested in. Money, jewels, fashion meant nothing to her. Her practical nature was fulfilled by her rigorous working regime, but when it came to the personal side of things, she was a dreamer, a romantic, who, now they’d had sex, would expect more than he could give.
A beautiful woman had sought refuge under his roof, but all he could think about was keeping his thoughts and feelings locked up tight.
That wasn’t strictly true, was it? However many times he told himself that this was Stacey, the imp who used to plague him at her father’s farm, his straining groin begged to differ. Rearranging his over-packed jeans, he grimaced. He couldn’t even trust himself to guide Stacey to her bedroom, and had left that task to Maria. Having known her intimately, he wanted her again, and that want was like a fury drilling away inside him to the point where he found it impossible to concentrate on anything else.
He had to have her. It was as simple as that.
Would it be so simple for Stacey?
A humourless laugh escaped him at the thought that she was quite capable of turning him down. Stacey wasn’t like anyone else he’d ever known. She lived life by her own rules, and his gut instinct warned him that obeying him would figure nowhere in her plans, a thought that only sharpened his appetite.
He glanced at the thick fur rug in front of the hearth, longing to hear her moan beneath him as her eyes and mouth begged him to take her again. To feel her hips straining to meet his; to have her until she couldn’t stand; to bring her more pleasure than she’d ever known—
Stop! Get over this obsession with Stacey and accept that she’s here to work!
How was he supposed to forget the telling signs of arousal in her darkening eyes when she looked at him? Or his desire to kiss every inch of her body? The disappointment on her face when he’d passed her over to Maria had told him everything: Stacey wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Get over it. Forget it.
Pouring a stiff drink, he gulped it down. Discarding the glass, he gave a roar of frustration as he planted his fist into the wall.
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