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The look on her face told him she thought it was the stupidest idea ever.
‘I thought it was fun,’ he said, willing her to smile back at him, to join him in a little light banter and laugh the whole thing off as an unfortunate first meeting. She just blinked.
‘Anyway,’ he continued with a sigh, ‘let’s just see if we can get through the next twenty-four hours without something—or someone—going bump in the night.’
‘I told you before. It was an accident,’ she said, scrunching her forehead into parallel lines.
It looked as if she was tempted to bite him again. Humour was obviously not the way to go. Back to business, then. That had to be safe territory, didn’t it?
‘Okay, well take this for now.’ He placed the money on the chest of drawers while she watched him suspiciously. ‘I’m getting a credit card sorted out for the household expenses, and a laptop so we can keep in touch via e-mail. I just need you to sign a few forms, if that’s all right?’
She nodded, but her eyes never left him, as if she was expecting him to make a sudden move.
Mark wandered over to the bed, picked up the sad-looking blue bear sitting next to one of the cases and gave it a cursory inspection. He wouldn’t have expected her to be the sort who slept with a teddy, but, hey, whatever rocked her boat. He tossed it back on the bed. It bounced and landed on the floor. Ellie rushed to scoop it up, clutched it to her chest and glared at him.
He raked his fingers through his hair. It was time to beat a hasty retreat.
‘I’ll see you at dinner, then?’ He raised his hands on a non-threatening gesture. An insane image of him as a lion tamer, holding off a lioness with a rickety old chair, popped into his head. He wouldn’t be surprised if she growled at him.
‘Fine.’ It almost was a growl.
‘Would you join us? I’ve invited Charlie to dinner, to say thank you for finding me a—’
The word hellcat had been poised to fall out of his mouth and he stopped himself just in time.
Not hellcat. Housekeeper! Just try and remember that.
‘—for finding me a housekeeper at such short notice. I thought it would be a good way to break the ice before I disappear again.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. Her eyes told him she’d rather walk on hot coals.
Fine. If she wanted to keep it cool and impersonal, he could keep it cool and impersonal. Probably.
‘If you could be ready to serve up at eight o’clock …?’
Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
He backed out through the door and started walking towards the main staircase. Charlie had a lot to answer for. Her perfect-for-the-job friend was perfectly strange, for one thing! He took himself downstairs and sat on the velvet-covered sofa in front of the fire. Jet lag was making it hard to think, and he had the oddest feeling that his conversation with Ellie had just been weird enough for him still to be asleep and dreaming.
She was clearly barking mad. If the ‘lost-my-bedroom’ incident had planted a seed of suspicion in his mind, their talk just now and what he had seen early this morning had definitely added fertiliser.
His body clock was still refusing to conform to Greenwich Mean Time, and last night he’d dozed, tossed and turned, read some of a long-winded novel and eventually decided on a hot shower to clear his head. On the way to his bathroom a flash of movement outside the window had prompted him to change course and peer out of the half-open curtains.
Down in the garden he’d spotted Ellie, marching round the garden, arms waving. She’d been talking to herself! At six in the morning. In her pyjamas. Pyjamas.
Another rush of something warm and not totally unfamiliar hit him. The pleasant prickle of awareness from the close proximity of a woman was one of the joys of life. But he didn’t think he’d ever experienced it after seeing a woman wearing what looked to be her grandad’s pyjamas before. Silk and satin, yes. Soft stripy brushed cotton, no. There it went again! The rush. His earlobes were burning, for goodness’ sake!
He’d practically had a heart attack when she’d charged into him in the dark last night. He’d been in such a deep sleep only moments before he’d hardly known who he was, let alone where he was. The small frame and slender wrists of his captive might have fooled him into thinking it was a lad he’d held captive, but when the light had flickered on he’d realised he couldn’t have been more wrong. It certainly hadn’t been a boy he had by the ankle, intent on dragging him down to the local police station. He’d started to wonder if he’d been dreaming. Those soft blonde curls belonged on a Botticelli cherub.
Just then the bite mark on his left shoulder began to throb.
No, not an angel—his instincts had been right from the start. A hellcat.
It would be wise to remind himself of that. He didn’t have to like this woman; he just had to pay her to keep his house running. He would keep his distance from Ellie Bond and he would not think of her in that way—even if there was something refreshingly different about her.
Insanity, he reminded himself. That’s what’s different about her. A woman like that is trouble. You never know what she’s going to do next.
A yawn crept up on him. He told himself it would be a bad idea to fall asleep again, but there was something very soothing about watching the logs in the fire crackle and spark. He pushed a cushion under his head and settled to watch the flames shimmer and dance.
When he opened his eyes again the flames had disappeared and the embers were just grey dust. Now and then a patch of orange would glow brightly, then fade away again. He pulled himself out of the comfortable dent he had created in the sofa.
From somewhere in the direction of the kitchen he could hear female voices. Was Charlie here already? He looked at his watch. He’d been asleep for more than three hours. He walked towards the dining room and met Charlie, coming to fetch him. His stomach gurgled. His sleep patterns might be sabotaged, but his appetite was clearly on Larkford time.
‘Now, don’t go upsetting my friend, Mark. She needs this job, and you are not allowed to mess it up for her.’
Hang on a second. He was the employer. Surely this was all supposed to be the other way round? Ellie was supposed to do a good job for him, try not to upset him. At the moment he was wondering whether his house would still be standing when he returned in a few weeks.
He opened his mouth to say as much, then decided not to bother. There was no arguing with his bossy cousin when she got like this. It had been the same when he’d tried to talk her out of taking a stray kitten home one summer, when he’d been fourteen and she’d been ten. Charlie had worshipped that cat, but he’d never quite forgotten the lattice of fine red marks the animal had left on his hands and forearms after he’d agreed to carry it back to the house for her.
Unfortunately it had taken another twenty years before he’d been cured of the habit of trying to rescue pathetic strays of all shapes and sizes.
Helena had been like that. Soft, fragile-looking, vulnerable. And he hadn’t been able to resist her. Something inside him swelled with protective instinct when he came across women like that. And Helena had been the neediest of them all. Not that he’d minded. He would have gladly spent all his days looking after her.
Three months after Charlie had found the kitten, when its tummy was round and its fur had a healthy sheen, it had disappeared and never come back. That was the problem with strays. It was in their nature to be selfish.
So he avoided strays altogether now, both feline and female.
Oh, women always wanted something from him. But he made them play by his rules, only mixing with women who wanted simpler things: money, fame by association, attention. Those things were easy to give and cost him nothing.
Mark was pulled back to the present by the aroma of exotic herbs and spices wafting his way. Charlie didn’t need to steer him any more. The smell was a homing beacon, leading him up the corridor and into the dining room. He dropped into a chair opposite Charlie and waited, all his taste buds on full alert.
There was a glimpse of an apron and blonde hair through the doorway as Ellie disappeared back into the kitchen to fetch the last in a succession of steaming dishes. Mark swallowed the pool of saliva that had collected in the bottom of his mouth. He hoped she wouldn’t be too long.
She finally appeared. At least he thought it was her. She was cool and collected and quiet, and set down the last dish in an array of lavish Thai recipes. Not a hint of growling or biting about her.
Good. He was glad she’d pulled herself together.
His stomach, however, didn’t care how the transformation had happened. It grumbled at him to just get over it and start shovelling food in its general direction. Which he did without delay.
CHAPTER FOUR
ELLIE dished up. Her heart jumped so hard in her chest she was sure the serving spoon must be pulsing in her fingers. What was happening to her? Mark Wilder had done nothing but walk into the room and sit down and her body had gone wild. She finished doling out the food and sat down, careful to keep her eyes on her plate lest her stampeding hormones concentrate themselves and get ready for another charge.
The man was insanely good-looking!
The TV cameras hadn’t done him justice at all. No longer did she want to scold the reporter for drooling; she wanted to congratulate her for forming a coherent sentence.
Last night she’d been too shocked to register the weird physiological response he provoked in her, and this afternoon she’d been too angry. At herself, mainly, but she’d vented at him instead. It was her stupid brain injury that was to blame. She’d never had problems with runaway emotions before that. Now, any little thing could trigger overwhelming frustration, or rage, or despair.
Of course! She’d inadvertently stumbled upon the answer.
Her sigh of relief drew glances from her dining companions. She caught Mark’s eye and quickly returned her gaze to the king prawn on the end of her fork while she waited for her heartbeat to settle.
How could she not have remembered?
The doctors had warned her that some people noticed a change to their sex drive after a traumatic head injury. This intense attraction, this wobbly feeling, it was all down to her head injury. She didn’t like him that way at all, really. It was just her stupid neurons getting themselves in knots because of the damage they’d suffered.
What a relief!
It explained everything. She could never normally be attracted to a man like him—a man so … well, she didn’t have words for what he was so … But she’d never seen the attraction of bad boys. Who needed the heartache? Give her a man like Sam—warm, dependable, faithful—any day. Not a charmer who thought everything with two X chromosomes ought to fall at his feet and worship.
Now she had that sorted out in her head she could relax a little and enjoy the food. But as she ate questions started to float to the surface.
Why now?
Why, after four years of seeming perfectly normal in that department—even completely uninterested at times—had this symptom decided to rear its ugly head?
It didn’t matter. Whatever the reason, she needed to get a handle on it. This job was important to her and she didn’t want to lose it. She’d just have to read up a bit on the subject, introduce measures to cope with it, just like she had with her other symptoms. By the time he got back from his next trip she’d have it completely under control.
She made the mistake of glancing up at that point, just as Mark smiled at something Charlie said. He wasn’t even looking at her, for goodness’ sake, but Ellie still felt her body straining at the leash.
Down, girl!
Oh, my. This evening was going to be torture.
Thankfully, she had an excuse to keep herself busy. She would pay attention to the food, and only the food. And when the meal was over she’d plead tiredness and escape to her room. Charlie would understand. She’d have to.
Mark stole a handful of looks at Ellie as the clattering of serving spoons gave way to silence. She kept her eyes on her plate, only lifting them once to dish out another spoonful of rice.
The only information she’d volunteered during dinner had been about the plumbing disaster in the housekeeper’s apartment, which cleared up the final mystery of why she’d been sleeping in the room next door to his. She’d barely acknowledged his thanks for organizing the repairs.
So much for ‘breaking the ice’. It seemed the dining room was in the grip of a rapidly advancing cold snap. But he wasn’t going to push.
Instead, he turned to Charlie and asked after her brother, which led to a raft of hilarious anecdotes about his recent backpacking trip to Indonesia.
Ellie said nothing. It was almost as if she knew she was sitting a few feet away from him but was desperately trying to wish herself invisible, or at the very least make herself blend into the background. Whatever she was trying to do, it wasn’t working.
It was odd. She wore virtually no make-up, and the reckless curls were piled on top of her head and secured with a clip, and yet he couldn’t stop glancing at her. It must be pheromones or something, because she wasn’t his usual type at all.
Not any more, anyway.
A curl escaped from the long silver clip on top of Ellie’s head and threatened to dunk itself in her meal, but before it could slim fingers tucked it behind her ear. That tiny hand had packed quite a punch last night. He stared at it, watched her fingers as they pleated her serviette, closed around her fork …
Charlie caught him with his cutlery frozen between his mouth and his plate, eyes fixed on Ellie. She smirked. He retaliated with a warning kick under the table. He knew how much of a blabbermouth Charlie was, and he didn’t want her complicating things by teasing him, especially as he and Ellie had reached an icy truce. Besides, there was nothing to tease him about. She was his housekeeper.
Charlie glared at him and leaned underneath the table to rub her leg. A second later searing pain radiated from his shinbone.
‘Ouch!’
Ellie glanced up, puzzled by the exchange, and Mark decided to deflect the attention from himself before she realised the food wasn’t the only thing that was causing his mouth to fill with saliva.
He could do polite and businesslike. He could behave like a proper employer rather than a best buddy. And, with a sideways look at his cousin, he decided to prove it.
‘So … Where are you from, Ellie?’
Ellie chased some glass noodles round her plate. Mark stretched out, then rested his hands behind his head and waited.
‘Kent,’ she replied quietly.
‘The whole of Kent, or one spot in particular?’
‘Barkleigh.’
What was that edge in her voice? Was she angry with him?
That was a little unfair. After all, she wasn’t the one with teeth marks on her torso. And he’d done his best to wave the olive branch by chatting to her earlier on, and got his head bitten off for his trouble.
Pity. He liked a woman with a sense of humour.
Cancel that thought. She was an employee. He was her boss. He would make polite conversation and help her to feel more comfortable, right? Good. Here goes …
‘So, what made you decide to—?’
Ellie clattered the empty plates together before he could finish his sentence and vanished in the direction of the kitchen, muttering something about coffee. Mark waited a split second, then grabbed a couple of empty wine glasses as an excuse to follow her. He got the distinct impression he’d said something wrong, although he couldn’t think what it might be. His questions had been innocent enough—bland, even.
When he got to the kitchen Ellie was standing motionless near the sink, a couple of dishes still in her hands. She looked lost. Not in a metaphorical sense, but genuinely lost—as if she’d suddenly found herself in alien territory and had no idea of what to do or where to go next. Mark stepped forward to help her, and she jumped as if electricity had arced between them. The crockery leapt out of her arms and smashed against the flagstone floor.
She stammered her apologies and started to pick up the pieces.
‘No. It was my fault,’ he said. ‘I startled you.’
He bent down to help her. She looked across at him as they both crouched beside the kitchen cabinets, picking up the remnants of the dishes. Their knees almost grazed, and whatever had startled her shot through him too. An anonymous emotion flickered in her eyes and she looked away.
When they had finished clearing away the mess, he pulled out one of the kitchen stools and motioned for her to sit down.
‘I’ll do the coffee.’
Her eyes opened wide, and he could feel the heat of her stare as he turned to the coffee machine.
‘Dinner was stupendous,’ he said as he placed a cup and saucer in front of her.
‘Thank you,’ she replied, looking even more surprised.
Suddenly he didn’t feel like being the normal, wisecracking Mark Wilder everyone expected him to be. He didn’t want to dazzle. Some forgotten instinct told him to pare it all back, leave the charm behind and just talk to her, human being to human being. Actually, he did have something he wanted to ask her, something that might cement them in their right relationship without causing her to take offence.
‘Actually, I was wondering if you could do me a favour.’
Her eyebrows raised a notch further.
