Hot Surrender

Oh, God, that was true! she thought, swallowing hard. She was a fool. The sound of his deep voice, the brush of his fingers, had made her feel weak, as if she might faint on the floor at his feet any minute. He was far too close. She averted her eyes from the temptation of that wide, powerful mouth, but could still see every line of it. She couldn't remember ever wanting to be kissed with such a deep ache of need and it appalled her. What on earth was wrong with her? Maybe he was right and she was still in shock, if not actually off her head! It was the only explanation for the crazy way she felt.

'Your skin's cold,' he said, stroking her cheek. 'Drink your tea while I make some food. I haven't eaten, either What have you got in your Bridge?'

'Nothing much,' she said, picking up her cup and holding it gratefully between her shivering hands. The warmth of the tea made her feel better, but she was still very shaky as she sipped the sweet, milky liquid and watched him opening the fridge.

'What do you mean? There's plenty of food in here.'

Over his shoulder she saw he was right 'Sancha must have done some shopping for me; that was good of her.'

Connel gave her a dry glance. 'Especially after you ran out on her—she's furious with you about that, by the way. She was very upset when she got back here and found you gone.'

She must ring Sancha and apologise, but not tonight She wasn't up to it. It would have to be tomorrow.

He straightened, inspecting a plate he held in his hand. 'How about steak? There's enough here for two, and it would only take a few minutes to cook. I cook a lot of steak. I see Sancha stocked up on vegetables; there's mushrooms and tomatoes and I could microwave a jacket potato unless you want chips.'

'No, jacket potato would be fine. I rarely eat chips, too high in calories.' She put down her cup and began to get up. 'I'll help.'

He whirled and put his hands on her shoulders. 'Sit down again. I'm doing the cooking. All I want you to do is sit by the radiator and stay warm.'

'You big bully,' she huskily said, trembling again at how it felt to be so close to his powerful, warm body. She had the most stupid yearning to lean on him, put her arms round him and cling. What was the matter with her? She had never wanted to cling to any man before. She had never been the clinging type—the opposite, in fact!

He walked away, came back with a glass of orange juice. 'Here, drink this while I heat up some soup for you. I remember you said you liked it There's some fresh soup in the fridge, I see—tomato and basil or asparagus. Which would you like?'

'Tomato, thank you.' She sipped her juice, watching him in a sort of trance as he moved around. He was beginning to look as if he belonged in her kitchen and that was even more worrying. Familiarity was dangerous, so was habit—if she wasn't careful she would start missing him when he wasn't here.

Putting the waxed soup box into the microwave, he quickly flicked the control buttons to switch the oven on, then began dealing with the other ingredients, washing and drying the steak, slicing tomatoes, rubbing oil into the outer skin of the potato before sprinkling it with salt. His deftness and speed were impressive.

A few minutes later Zoe had a bowl of hot soup in front of her. Connel gave her a soup spoon and a roll and butter.

'You get on with that while I finish cooking the meal.'

She bent over to inhale the scent, sighing. 'Smells delicious. Aren't you going to have some?'

'No. I'll just have the steak. It will be ready in ten minutes, so start eating the soup.'

It was like being married, she thought,

taking her first spoonful. He gave her his orders as if he had every right to run her life. She ought to do something about that, but just now she felt too cold and tired. Next time she saw him she would tell him where to jump. If she felt normal enough.

'Is it okay?' Connel asked her, and she nodded, taking some more.

'It tastes as good as it smells.'

The rest of the meal was as marvellous; he had cooked the steak to perfection, although he had given her too much. She couldn't eat it all, and by the time she had finished her meal she was heavy-eyed and drowsy.

'No coffee,' Connel told her, studying her across the kitchen table. 'Bed for you now.'

'Not after eating all that food!'

'You're asleep where you sit!' he mocked, and she laughed, knowing he was right She was barely able to keep her eyes open.

'Well, first I'll help you clear the kitchen and wash up!'

'That won't take me five minutes. Upstairs with you, Zoe—or do you want me to carry you and undress you?'

Heat burned in her face. Her eyes couldn't hold the mockery in his; she looked away. I certainly don't!' She got up too fast and hit her knee on the table-leg, staggered slightly, grunting in pain.

Connel's arms went round her. 'Now what have you done?'