Holiday with a Stranger. Christy McKellen
he’d chosen wasn’t conducive to settling in one place and playing house. It had been an exhausting time. He was afraid that even a short, sharp affair now could leach the remaining life out of him, and he needed his mojo intact if he was going to keep the momentum of his projects going.
But it didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun playing with Josie. He’d be out of here in a few days, so what harm could it do to spend a bit of time figuring her out? There had to be more to her story than she was letting on. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman who could fritter away two weeks in the middle of nowhere. She had a nervous sort of energy about her that gave the impression she had more important things to be doing than just sitting and relaxing.
He wanted to know why.
* * *
She’d been well and truly had and it didn’t feel good.
Josie squeezed shampoo hard into her hand and thumped the bottle down onto the shower shelf in her anger. How could she have allowed him to talk her into embarrassing herself like that? She was clearly off her game because she was tired and stressed about the business. There was no way he would have tricked her like that ordinarily. In retrospect, she wished she’d given him a bald spot and an extra short fringe, just so she’d have something to mollify her.
What was she going to do now? He clearly wasn’t going to budge easily. She’d have to make as much of a nuisance of herself as possible and hope he’d get fed up and decide he’d be better off somewhere else.
She could phone Abi and explain the situation, of course, but she didn’t want it to look as though she couldn’t fight her own battles. And her business partner had enough on her plate as it was.
Shutting off the shower, she stepped carefully out of the tray and towelled herself dry.
The pile of dirty clothes on the floor gave her an idea.
After dressing in a light floral sundress, and drying off her hair so it swung around her shoulders, she gathered up her dirty laundry and dumped it on the bed, ready to take downstairs. Her laptop was sitting on the windowsill, where she’d left it in the hope that the sun would help dry it out, and she went over and tapped the power button again, praying that it would suddenly spring to life.
No dice.
A sharp pain throbbed in her skull and she massaged the sides of her forehead to try and relieve the pressure.
‘Join me for a drink on the terrace?’
She jumped at the sound of Connor’s deep voice, twisting round to see him slouched against the doorjamb of the bedroom. He filled the doorway with his immense physique.
‘I got the impression you wanted me to keep out of your way,’ she answered, nonchalantly flicking her hair over her shoulder. She wasn’t going to show him how nervy she was around him. All she had right now was her self-control, and she was damned if she was going to let that slip away from her too.
‘I changed my mind. I could do with some company and you could do with some sun.’ His gaze rested on her pale shoulders. ‘Do you spend any time outside?’
Truthfully, she didn’t tend to spend much time outdoors. She’d been too busy with work and had often ended up working at weekends to keep up with her heavy workload. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d just sat in the sunshine.
‘The sun’s very damaging to your skin, you know. You’ll be old before your time.’ She pointed towards his tanned forearms in a vain attempt to shut him up.
He smiled. ‘Full of vitamin D, though. Good for your happiness levels.’
Before she had time to reply, he pushed himself away from the doorway and disappeared.
After a few moments of arguing with herself about the wisdom of spending more time in his vicinity she grabbed her dirty clothes and a pen and notebook and went down to the kitchen. She shoved her clothes in the washing machine, set it going, then sauntered outside to find Connor reclining on a lounger, his shirt discarded on the floor next to him.
Great.
Josie stared. She couldn’t help it. His body was...well...divine. That skin—the glorious tanned sleekness of it. The way it undulated over the muscles of his stomach and stretched over the peaks of his collarbones. The broadness of his shoulders made her think of a superhero with their almost obscene size. She’d never seen such a magnificent body in the flesh.
Cue whole body flush.
Tearing her eyes away, she sat on the lounger next to him, barely managing to control her limbs.
He turned to look at her, a crooked smile playing about his lips as if he sensed her discomfort. ‘Help yourself to a drink.’ He gestured towards a jug of iced fruit juice and a couple of tumblers on a small table between them.
She eyed it suspiciously. ‘I’m not thirsty, thanks.’ She didn’t entirely trust him. There was something odd about him suddenly wanting her company, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why it felt so dangerous to be out here with him. She didn’t for a second think he would hurt her, but it was unnerving all the same.
Dropping her notebook casually onto the table between them, she shuffled about on the lounger to try and get comfy. When she glanced up at him, he seemed to be sizing her up.
She raised a questioning eyebrow at him, fighting the urge to look away from his evaluating stare.
‘You work a lot, right?’
She sat up straighter, warming up for what she was sure was about to be some sort of scrap. ‘My job keeps me pretty busy.’
‘Thought so. You have that computer crouch people get when they work at a desk too much. The only time you set your shoulders back and push that magnificent rack at me is when you’re facing me down over something.’
How was she supposed to respond to that little gem? By playing it cool.
‘I don’t suppose you come across many desks on your jaunts around the world.’
He broke eye contact to pick up the jug of iced juice and pour himself a shot into one of the glasses. ‘You’d be surprised what I come across,’ he said, in that low, seductive voice of his.
The hairs stood up on the back of her neck again and she snort-laughed in response, blood rushing straight to her face in embarrassment at the awful noise she’d made. Picking up the jug from where he’d set it down, she concentrated on pouring herself some juice to hide her humiliation. The ice clinked in her glass as she held it unsteadily in her hand, so she rested it on her knee instead.
Connor lay back, linking his fingers together behind his head, a smile playing about his lips. He knew exactly what he was doing to her and he clearly loved seeing her squirm. Bastard.
A minute went by before he spoke again. ‘What do you do that keeps you shackled to a desk?’
‘Shackled? Interesting choice of word.’ She didn’t dare look him in the face in case he saw how much she was floundering.
‘The imagery pleases me.’
He turned in the lounger to face her and her gaze was magnetically drawn to his toned torso. It was unnerving, being faced with a sight like that whilst trying to maintain a polite line of conversation.
‘You have a vivid imagination,’ she said.
‘It’s a prerequisite. I spend a lot of time alone.’
She really needed to get the conversation back on safe ground. ‘We provide software solutions for marketing and research departments.’
‘That must be fascinating.’
His tone was so dry she felt like dousing him with her ice-cold drink.
‘It took us three years to build the business to this point and we’re proud of what we’ve achieved.’
‘Good for you.’