‘No,’ Piers drawled, giving her a narrow-eyed look that encompassed not just her well-kissed, swollen mouth but her equally swollen breasts as they pressed against the soft fabric of her tee shirt. ‘Perhaps I wouldn’t have done if you hadn’t...invited me... It takes two, you know, and...’
Her invite him! Georgia made an angry, protesting sound of denial deep in her throat.
‘I did not—’ she began, and then stopped as Ben started to bark impatiently. ‘I have to walk Ben,’ she told him stiffly.
‘Well, I shall probably be out when you return,’ Piers told her dismissively. ‘I’ve got a couple of properties I want to see this evening. Which reminds me, I shall be away all day tomorrow.’
‘Good, I’m glad to hear it,’ Georgia muttered grimly in what she had thought was a voice too low for him to hear.
But, to her chagrin, he had heard her, and in retaliation he told her silkily, ‘Really? That wasn’t the message I was getting a few minutes ago... In fact—’
‘You were the one who kissed me,’ Georgia told him hotly, immediately on the defensive.
Piers was silent for so long that at first she thought she had got away with it and that he wasn’t going to say anything, but when he did she realised how much she had underestimated him.
He told her softly, ‘A woman doesn’t have to instigate a kiss to let a man know she wants one, and the way you looked at me...’
Without waiting to hear any more Georgia hurried to the back door, calling quickly to Ben as she did so.
Shamingly she knew that he did have a point. She had, albeit unintentionally, looked at his mouth for just that little bit too long, but she had never for one minute had any preconceived notion of doing so to provoke him into kissing her. Never for one single minute. No, the thought had never even crossed her mind. Why should it? They were antagonists...on opposite sides—she for Ben, Piers against him.
* * *
Through the kitchen window Piers watched Georgia coaxing Ben into his choke lead and then rewarding the dog with an affectionate pat and some kind of treat when he complied.
She would never succeed in training him in three months, never mind three weeks, Piers decided. She was far too soft. Ben was a dog used to having his own way, used to ruling the roost and dominating the household and his owner. What Ben needed was another, more determined male presence in his life.
Almost absently Piers noted the way Georgia’s jeans hugged the slim length of her legs and the rounded curve of her bottom. She had felt every bit as good in his arms as he had imagined, but not quite as good as she would have done had they been naked together in bed. Her skin had smelt of fresh air and peaches, and as he’d kissed her he had had a fierce surge of male desire to taste more of her, to strip that neat, high-necked tee shirt from her body and expose the delicious fullness of her breasts to his gaze...his hands...his mouth...
There was a decidedly potent male ache in his lower body, a decidedly testosterone-driven urge to take what had happened between them further—a whole lot further—threatening his normal cool control. When he had gone upstairs earlier, as he’d crossed the landing heading for the stairs which led up a further flight to his own quarters, there had been a very tantalisingly feminine scent in the air, a provocative, delicate woman smell that had sent his hormones into overdrive.
And she wasn’t even his type. That red hair, that curvy body, that obvious inexperience in those bewitching dark pansy eyes—they weren’t for him. No way...no way at all; and even if they had been there was one insurmountable barrier between them in the shape of that idiotic dog. The very barrier which had propelled her into his life...and into his arms...in the first place.
Emptying the cup containing Georgia’s now cold cup of coffee, he grimaced over the unappetising taste of his own, pouring that away as well.
After one had tasted nectar, coffee had no appeal at all.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘SO...?’ Helen asked Georgia three days later. ‘Are you making any progress with Ben?’
‘Some,’ Georgia told her cautiously. ‘He definitely understands the commands—he’s a very intelligent dog—but getting him to respond to them is still something of a hit-and-miss affair. He walked beautifully on his lead last night, and sat on command.’
‘Sounds good,’ Helen approved, ‘and I’ve got some more good news for you as well.’
Listening to her, Georgia acknowledged ruefully that Ben had somewhat spoiled his good performance the previous day by slipping free of his collar and chasing after a squirrel which had promptly run up a tree and bombarded him with prickly unripened chestnuts.