By the time he got up to go it was agreed that Ben’s destruction of his garden was to be forgotten just so long as there wasn’t a repeat performance. However, the harmonious end to the day was somewhat marred for Georgia as, when he stood on the front doorstep, the colonel turned to them both and confided, ‘Shouldn’t say so, perhaps, but it seems to me that a dog like that is too much of a handful for a mature lady... A little house dog would be much better...’
After he had gone Georgia waited tensely for the stinging condemnation she was sure that Piers was going to utter, but, to her surprise, as she carefully washed the heavy crystal glasses he had used for their drinks, he came up to her and told her quietly, ‘That was very well done of you; he’s obviously very lonely, poor chap, although I admit for a moment when he... In your shoes I doubt that I’d have had the compassion to offer him a cup of tea.’
‘He was very angry,’ Georgia responded, dipping her head over the hot washing-up water to conceal the shock his praise had given her.
‘With good reason,’ Piers told her dryly, adding, ‘How did Ben get out, by the way?’
‘I’m not sure. We’ll have to check the fence and make sure any holes are safely mended.’
She gave a small sigh. ‘I’ll go round tomorrow to see the colonel. My father’s a keen gardener and I know how he’d feel in the same circumstances. Perhaps something can be salvaged.’
‘Now I think I begin to understand just what motivated you to persuade my godmother to take Ben on,’ Piers said wryly. ‘You’re far too soft-hearted...’
‘No, I’m not at all,’ Georgia protested, turning towards him defensively. ‘I can be very determined when I need to be.’
‘Very determined to be a soft touch,’ Piers scoffed, and then, to Georgia’s astonishment, he added huskily, ‘Have you any idea how much, right now, I want to kiss you?’
‘To...to kiss me...?’ Georgia stammered, her face flushing guiltily as she recognised how much she actually wanted him to put his words into action. Veiling her expression from him with downcast eyelashes, just in case he should see what she was feeling, she began huskily, ‘I...I don’t think that that would be a good idea...’
‘You don’t?’
‘I...I don’t know why you should. After all...’
‘You don’t?’ Piers repeated, his voice becoming even more throaty and sexy. ‘Does this make it any easier for you to see why?’ he asked her softly as he moved towards her, the bulk of his body cutting off her escape as he placed his hands at either side of her on the worktop. The white tee shirt he was wearing revealed most of his arms, and, as she had been before, Georgia was overwhelmed by a desire to reach out and stroke her fingertips down their length. They looked so strong, so masculine...so...so sexy...so...so him.
She gave a small ecstatic sigh of feminine bliss and closed her eyes, opening them again in breathless shock as she felt the warm pressure of Piers’s mouth probing the softness of her own.
‘Piers...no...’ she started to say, but for some reason her firm denial was voiced as a husky, ‘Mmm...’
‘Mmm...’ Piers echoed, in a much deeper and more possessive masculine tone. ‘It would be so easy to make love to you,’ he told her rawly, the words pouring hotly into her ear as his hand caressed the narrow curve of her waist. ‘I could take you here...now...’
‘In the kitchen?’ Georgia squeaked breathlessly. She wasn’t used to strong gin and tonics, especially when she had only managed to eat a snacky sandwich. The liquor must have gone to her head, loosening her tongue as well as her inhibitions, she reflected as Piers seemed to interpret what she had intended to be a statement of rejection and distaste as one of curiosity and encouragement.
‘Mmm...shall I show you how?’ Piers asked her, and then, without waiting for her response, he was picking her up, lifting her off her feet, holding her powerfully against his body. He whispered wickedly to her, ‘We could use the table. I could lay you on it and unfasten your shirt...’
Georgia could feel the heat of his gaze scorching her skin right through her clothes as he looked at her breasts, and she could feel, too, the little prickle of excitement that puckered her nipples into tight, eager points.
‘And then...?’ Georgia heard herself gasping huskily.
‘And then I’d hold your breasts in my hands and I’d stroke and tease your nipples until you were begging for me to take them into my mouth, just as I’d be begging for you to touch and taste me,’ Piers told her in a raw growl.