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Still, it could have been worse. If she’d been on the afternoon course, she would have had Jack watching her. It would have put her off so badly she probably would have dropped like a stone.
She might anyway, just thinking about him! She forced herself to concentrate before she killed herself and left her children without a mother…
‘Hi, Tom. Good day?’
‘Brilliant! I learned to roll over in the canoe and come up again, and—ugh, what’s happened to Nicky?’
Jack grimaced. ‘Finger painting.’
‘Looks more like face painting.’
‘Mmm. Where’s Amy?’
‘Oh, she’s got a friend. There she is—her name’s Cassie.’
Jack looked, and his heart slammed against his ribs. Molly was coming down the beach towards the girls, smiling that lovely bubbly smile that used every muscle in her face, crinkling her eyes and tilting her nose and widening that kissable, soft mouth—
Hell.
‘That’s Molly the Magician,’ Tom said, looking longingly at her. ‘She was really cool. She must be Cassie’s mum.’
‘Must be,’ Jack murmured, looking at Molly every bit as longingly. She reached Cassie and hugged her briefly, and he wondered what it would feel like to be the recipient of that hug. The child was the spitting image of her mother, but without the sex appeal. No doubt she’d get it in spades once she was older, and her mother would have her hands full fending off would-be suitors.
His gaze switched to Amy, a darker blonde, more mousy, with pale skin and clear blue eyes, just like her mother. Jack felt a pang of sorrow and hugged little Nicky closer. ‘Shall we go and get Amy?’
And, coincidentally, bump into Molly again. She didn’t notice them approaching, so his greedy eyes absorbed every detail of her. She looked good enough to eat in shorts and a skimpy top that did terminal things to his blood pressure. Those legs—
‘Hello, Molly,’ he said softly.
She looked up, her eyes wide, and those delectable lips tilted. ‘Hi, there,’ she said with that open, ingenuous smile that did him in. ‘Picking up the kids?’
‘Yes.’ His voice was gruff and sounded as if he hadn’t used it for a month. He cleared his throat. ‘Had a good day?’ How was the massage? Blast. Quell that thought.
‘Fine—bit scary. I was abseiling this morning. I must have been mad. How about you?’
Jack found himself grinning like a Cheshire cat—a tom cat, to be exact. ‘The mountain-bike trek was all up-hill, all the way round.’
‘That’s not possible,’ she said with a laugh.
‘Oh, it is. Believe me. They hire someone to tilt the earth—they must.’
She chuckled again. ‘And your abseiling?’
‘A piece of cake by comparison. I was so busy worrying about Seb I hardly noticed my own descents.’
She looked around. ‘Where is he?’
‘Gone back to the cabin. I said we’d meet him there.’
She nodded and looked around. ‘Philip! Come on, darling.’
Philip came, apparently very reluctantly, and somehow they ended up on their bikes all heading back in the same direction.
It seemed as natural as breathing to offer them all a drink as they wobbled back into Area B, and after a second’s hesitation that Amy and Cassie’s pleading overwhelmed, Molly gave him a wary smile and accepted.
His heart thumped again, and for a ridiculous second he felt as if he’d asked her out on a date.
Absurd…
The cabin wasn’t really big enough for eight of them, but he threw open the patio doors and they spilled out onto the short, scrubby grass beside the lake. Ducks came waddling up expectantly, and within moments Nicky was there asking for bread for them.
He absent-mindedly handed her a slice and searched the fridge. Not enough orange for all of them; not enough of anything. He needed to go shopping again.
He diluted the juice, used small glasses and watched Molly as discreetly as he could.
He was watching her. Probably looking for imminent signs of madness. She couldn’t believe that he’d really liked the magic show, and there was no way it was her legs he was studying, so it must be the lunatic tendencies he was waiting for.
‘So, what’s on tomorrow?’ she asked.
‘Ah—tomorrow. Monday? Let’s see—Seb’s bungee-jumping and doing some commando thing, Amy’s doing the theatre workshop all day and Tom’s skateboarding and trail-biking, I think. How about you?’
‘The same, I think. I know Philip’s trail-biking in the afternoon, and Cassie’s certainly doing the theatre workshop. She’ll enjoy that, being with Amy. They seem to get on very well.’
His eyes tracked to the children. ‘They do. I’m glad. I was wondering how it would work, but finding a holiday that suited all five of us was a nightmare. Usually at least some of us are bored some of the time, but I don’t think we’re going to have time to be bored this week.’
She chuckled. ‘No. I think we’re going to be pooped instead. I feel tired already! What about the little one?’
‘Nicky?’ Again his eyes tracked to her, as they often did, his internal radar keeping tabs on the active youngster, she thought. ‘I think Nicky and I are in the farmyard tomorrow morning, and then in the afternoon she’s in the kindergarten and I’m kart racing.’
‘So am I!’ she exclaimed, and then could have bitten her tongue out. Did she have to sound so enthusiastic? He’d think she was following him round! Oh, Lord, her and her big mouth—
‘That’s great,’ he said, and he sounded sincere and—interested? No. He was just glad to have company. It was a bit daunting joining new groups every session, having to work with total strangers. It was easier if there was someone there that you’d seen before.
That was all he meant—surely?
‘What about the morning?’ he asked.
‘I was going to have a lazy couple of hours with a book,’ she confessed.
‘You could always join us in the farmyard,’ he suggested.
Was that interest in his eyes? Possibly. Oh, lawks. Nobody had looked at her like that for so long she wasn’t even sure!
‘Thanks—I’ll think about it,’ she said, vowing to do no such thing. No, she’d lie in the bath, read a book, pamper herself with body lotion and a thorough facial treatment, and lie in the sun.
‘I tell you what, if you’re coming, let me know before eight-thirty.’
‘I will,’ she agreed, knowing she wouldn’t do any such thing.
No way was she walking round a farmyard with a man with lazy, sexy eyes and four children. Oh, no!
CHAPTER TWO
‘MOLLY?’
She jerked up into a sitting position, her lids flying open, and met Jack’s laughing eyes with an inward groan.
‘Hi,’ she mumbled through stiff lips. She tried to smile, and felt the skin shatter all over her face. Her hands flew up and covered the hideous mask, and with a moan of anguish she flopped back against the sun lounger and glared at him. ‘I thought you were at the farmyard?’ she wailed, cracking furiously.
He grinned, quite unabashed at having caught her in such disarray. Damn.
‘Seems I wasn’t needed there.’
You’re not needed here, she nearly retorted, scrambling to her feet and clutching the sides of her dressing gown together. The only good thing about it was that he couldn’t see the flaming colour in her cheeks under the crumbling face pack.
‘Give me a minute,’ she muttered, and felt a chunk of the vile green mud flake and fall off. She fled for the sanctuary of her bathroom, trailed by a masculine chuckle that did nothing for her temper—or her equilibrium.
Ruthlessly she crumbled the face pack and scrubbed it off with warm water, slapped on some moisturiser that made her go all shiny as well as pink, and dragged on her shorts and T-shirt. Hmm. She looked about sixteen—which, come to think of it, had to be an improvement on thirty-one.
She shoved her feet into sandals, wriggling into them as she walked, and found him sprawled on her sun lounger, face tipped up to the sun, eyes shut, utterly at ease.
‘Coffee?’ she snapped, and he opened one eye and squinted at her in the sunlight.
‘If you’re sure it’s no trouble.’
‘It’s no trouble,’ she said ungraciously, and flounced back into the cabin. Fancy catching her like that! She’d looked a total fright! He might have warned her he was coming! She banged around in the little open-plan kitchen area, smacking mugs down on the worktop, popping the seal on the instant coffee and tapping her foot while the kettle slowly came to the boil.
‘You’re mad with me.’
Her head jerked up and she glared at him over the kettle. ‘Why should I be mad with you?’
He smiled understandingly. ‘Because I caught you looking like a refugee from a frog pond?’
She stifled the smile. ‘You have such a way with words.’
He laughed, propping his arms on the half-wall that surrounded the kitchen area and leaning over towards her with that engaging grin of his. ‘Am I supposed to say you looked ravishing?’
‘And add lying to your sins?’
‘Maybe it’s not a lie.’
‘And maybe you’re a frog. That would explain a lot.’
He smiled. ‘You could always kiss me and see if I turn into a prince.’
Her heart unaccountably thumped. ‘In your dreams,’ she shot back, refusing to smile.
‘Grouch.’
‘You’d better believe it. I’m not my sunny best when I’m caught like that.’
He straightened up, his mouth twitching. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any point in telling you you’d look wonderful covered in mud from head to foot?’
She arched a brow. ‘Hardly. I’d only think you had a kink about women mud-wrestlers—either that or you really are a frog.’
His eyes sparkled with humour and he let the smile out, drawing her attention to the firm fullness of his lips and the hard angle of his beautifully-sculpted jaw. Perhaps she ought to kiss him and find out—?
‘Penny for them.’
She laughed then. ‘No way. Black or white?’
‘Black—strong, no sugar.’
How had she known that? She handed him the mug over the little wall, and scooping up her own she went out into the little sun-trap patio at the back of the cabin. Like his, it looked out over the lake and was open to anyone who chose to walk past it—the last place she should have sat with her face pack on.
She’d thought she was safe, though, because there hadn’t seemed to be anyone about. It was just her luck that he’d come looking for her and found her like that! She sat on one of the chairs at the picnic table, tucking her legs up under the chair and chasing a little pine-needle round the table top.
He sat down on her right, looking out over the lake, his legs stretched out under the table and crossed at the ankle. She hitched hers a little tighter under her, out of reach. No way was she playing footsie with him with the cabin just behind them and not a child in sight to protect her from his abundant charms!
‘Gorgeous morning.’ He stretched his arms over his head, locking his fingers behind his neck and yawning hugely. His T-shirt drew taut over the muscles on his chest, and she had to drag her eyes away before she disgraced herself.
She stared at the lake, counting ducks until her heart-rate was back under control.
‘So, how come you weren’t needed?’ she asked to fill the silence—and when she could trust herself to speak.
‘They had enough helpers, and Nicky seemed quite happy. She’d got to know one of them yesterday doing finger painting, apparently.’
‘So you thought you’d come and persecute me?’ she asked with a smile to take away the offence. Actually, she was quite pleased he had, despite the face pack. He was fun, and it seemed like years since she’d had fun—even if she didn’t intend to play footsie.
‘Something like that,’ he replied with a smile, and his eyes were warm and kind and crinkly at the corners, as if he did it often. It made her go all gooey inside—which was ridiculous, considering he couldn’t possibly be really interested in her. He was just passing the time. Idle flirting. Most men did it, like breathing, without even noticing.
He drank his coffee, then peered into the bottom of the mug and set it down with transparent and very obvious regret.
‘More?’ she offered automatically.
The smile was lazy and sexy and satisfied. ‘I will if you will.’
For a moment she wondered what he was talking about, but then collected her scattered wits. ‘I’m fine—I usually only have one.’
He sat up, the smile fading, searching her face. ‘I’ll go if you want to get back to your vegetative state.’
She laughed and stood up, scooping up his mug. ‘No, I’ve vegged enough. Black again?’
‘Please.’
She made the coffee and took it out, setting it down in front of him. ‘There was some research done a while ago that linked strong black coffee with sterility, but I guess if you’ve got four children that rather blows their research away,’ she said with a grin.
Something changed in his eyes, and he gave a short, humourless grunt of laughter. ‘We may never know,’ he said quietly. ‘They’re not my kids.’
