Christy McKellen - Holiday with a Stranger

His eyes were an attention-grabbing ice-blue, ringed with graphite-grey, and the intensity in his gaze almost broke her.

Not today, matey.

After what felt like an age Connor placed his mug back on the table and allowed a slow smile to spread across his face. At once his rugged features came alive: his eyes lit with warmth and the sharp angles of his face softened, making him seem younger, more playful and somehow more human. It was a deliciously sexy sight.

Her whole body trembled as a surge of lust blindsided her and hot coffee slopped over the rim of the mug onto her lap.

Damn it.

Gritting her teeth, she ignored the burning sensation as the liquid soaked into her jeans, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

His smile morphed into a quizzical frown. ‘You okay? That must have stung.’

‘I’m fine,’ she muttered, putting her mug carefully onto the table before she did any more damage to herself.

He took advantage of her weakened state to launch his attack. ‘So, Josie, when are you leaving?’

His tone was even, as if he were making polite conversation, but she felt the power behind the words. Oh, he was good, all right.

Drawing her shoulders back, she gave him her fully-in-control face before answering, noting with satisfaction that he’d leant further back in his chair and broken eye contact, dipping his gaze to somewhere below her neck.

‘In a week or two. Abigail offered this place to me and I accepted in good faith.’ She looked at him hard, determined to keep it together. ‘I haven’t had a holiday for three years and she thought I could do with the break.’

That was understating the facts a little, but there was no way she was admitting the whole truth to him. She was too proud. Plus, it was none of his damn business.

He rubbed his hand over his eyes, obviously still tired after travelling and then sleeping on the less than man-sized sofa.

She actually felt her insides softening. ‘Look, I know this is your place, and you probably want to relax in peace, but you can’t just kick me out.’ She jabbed a finger at him. ‘This house is just as much Abigail’s as yours, and you weren’t supposed to be coming back any time soon. Why didn’t you let her know?’

He leant in towards her and she couldn’t help but move away from the overwhelming force of his sudden proximity. ‘I don’t answer to anyone—especially not my damn sister.’ He tapped his finger hard on the table. ‘She knows this is where I base myself when I’m not travelling, she never comes here, and I don’t see why I should put up with her waifs and strays when the whim takes her.’

His voice was low and steady, all cool control and understated power, but she refused to be scared off.

‘I’m not a waif or a stray, and I’m not going anywhere.’ She crossed her arms and bit down hard on her lip. His eyes dropped to her mouth and she shifted self-consciously in her seat. Blood pulsed through her veins as his eyes slowly returned to hers, his pupils large and dark against his irises.

She released her lip and rubbed her tongue over it in response. What had made her do that? She needed to argue her case convincingly here and keep focused on her goal. Instead her body seemed intent on deliberately provoking a physical reaction out of him. This was really unlike her. She rarely flirted. She didn’t have time for it.

‘What do you propose I do? Sleep on the couch until you decide to leave?’ he said, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

She spread out her hands on the tabletop and took a steadying breath before spearing him with her sternest stare. ‘As far as I understand it, Abi has as much right to this place as you do. This is supposed to be my holiday—a chance to get some peace and quiet. It’s not my fault you two can’t communicate properly.’

His smile faltered. ‘You expect me to leave?’

That awful softening thing was happening again. Ignore it, Josie. Stand firm. ‘Yes.’ She waited for his response, her fingers now drumming a soft beat on the table.

‘Why would I do that?’ His expression was impassive.

‘Because I was here first.’

He barked out a laugh. ‘You’re calling dibs on my house?’

‘It’s a perfectly valid negotiating technique.’

He considered her for a moment and she shifted in her chair, straightening her back in readiness for his next move.

‘Do you cook?’

What the hell?

‘Not unless you count microwaving ready meals or sloshing milk over cereal.’

Connor raised his eyebrows. ‘I don’t.’

She crossed her arms. ‘Then, no, I don’t cook.’

Connor gave her a questioning look and she flushed under his scrutiny.

She shrugged, fighting the heat of her discomfort. ‘My job’s demanding. The last thing I want to do when I get in is cook.’

‘Really? I find it relaxing.’

His eyes searched her face and her skin heated in response.

‘What do you do to relax?’

There was a hint of reproach in his expression as his gaze locked with hers. She shifted in her chair, looking away from him. Why was he making her feel so uncomfortable? She had nothing to be ashamed about.

‘I go to the gym sometimes.’ She racked her brain, trying to find something to impress him with, but nothing came to mind.

Connor shook his head slowly, radiating disapproval, but his expression softened as he leant in closer to her. The hairs on the back of her neck lifted in response and her heart pummelled her chest as his gaze roved her face before dropping to her lips.

‘I’m sure we can think of some way to work this out.’

His voice was low and the double meaning was not lost on her. He stood suddenly, pushing his chair away from the table and grabbing their plates, turning to dump them next to the sink. He stilled, staring down at the counter, before turning back. There was a challenge in his expression now.

‘You can cut my hair.’

Josie blinked at him in surprise, her body a tangle of confusion and lust. What was he doing to her? The mixture of forceful self-confidence and provocative teasing was disorientating her, turning her insides to mulch and her brain to jelly.

‘Did you say you want me to cut your hair?’

‘Yes.’

She gave him a stunned smile. ‘What’s wrong with going to a hairdresser?’

‘A waste of money. Anyway, I’m not losing a morning driving to Aix just to get a haircut. I’m sick of it hanging in my face—you just need to chop a couple of inches off all round. Then I’ll be ready to face the world.’

Relaxing her arms, she dropped her hands into her lap and tapped her fingers together. ‘If I do it will you let me have the house?’

He shrugged. ‘Depends on how good a job you do.’

She snorted. ‘What if I make a mess of it?’

‘I’m trusting you not to. Come on, Josie, it’s not rocket science. You know the general principle, right? Look, I can’t get my fingers in those piddly little nail scissors, and the only other sharp things I have in this house are the kitchen knives and the garden shears.’

‘I may end up needing those. It looks like you’ve been washing your hair with engine oil.’

That tantalising smile played about his lips again and her stomach flipped over.

‘Yeah, well, it’s tough finding a power shower in the middle of a rainforest.’

He flicked his hair out of his eyes with those long, strong-looking fingers and her hands did a nervous sort of skitter in her lap. What would it feel like to be in such close proximity to that powerful frame and all that hard muscle? Blood rushed straight between her legs, causing a hard ache there, and before she could stop herself she rocked forward in the chair to try and relieve the pressure.