CHAPTER SEVEN
When Daniel drew her into his bedroom, grinning at her undisguised reluctance, she looked nervously at the large, glass tank but could not see the snake, only several desperate crickets clinging to the inside of the glass. He removed the lid, which made her stiffen. But when he pointed out the snake, she saw that Woody was not poised to escape but curled up in one corner under a leafy branch, ignoring them both.
‘Here he is,’ Daniel said softly, moving one of the leaves aside so that Woody’s full scaly length could be seen. ‘My snake.’ When Hannah gave a quiet snort of laughter, unable to control herself, he glanced at her with a puzzled expression. ‘What?’
‘Oh, nothing.’ But she was finding it hard not to giggle.
‘Would you like to hold him?’
‘Would I like to hold your snake?’ Hannah’s barely suppressed giggle turned into laughter. ‘Seriously? Tell me you meant that as a joke.’
To her surprise, there was a hard line of red across Daniel’s cheekbone. ‘Actually, I didn’t.’ He hesitated, then replaced the lid on the tank, and she could tell that her mockery had offended him. ‘I’m sorry if – ’
Hannah put out a hand, stopping him. She was touching his chest, she realised with a shock. When had he moved so close?
‘Please,’ she said, the edge of laughter in her voice replaced by a husky tone. ‘Don’t apologise. It’s me who should say sorry.’ She met his gaze. ‘I wasn’t making fun of you. Or Woody. It’s … the wine. I don’t know what I’m saying.’
‘Don’t you?’
He was so close now that she could smell that sharp cologne again. He wound one arm loosely around her waist. She knew that she ought to pull away, to reject this seduction before it went too far. But somehow she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Something in his eyes, perhaps. Or the way his fingers were stroking warmly up and down her spine. Instead, she set her other palm against the resilience of his chest, feeling his heart beat under her finger tips. It was going as fast as hers, she realised with a start.
What had they been talking about?
Hannah had lost track of the conversation, her fingertips stroking the soft fabric of his shirt, while she pondered what he looked like underneath.
She should never have drunk so much wine. Not that she was drunk. But she was ridiculously relaxed, almost boneless in his arms as he bent towards her.
‘Hannah?’ Her name on his lips was both a warning and a plea.
‘Hush. I’m thinking.’
‘Think faster.’
‘Okay. Well, first off, I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl.’ She slid her fingers through the little space between his shirt buttons, and felt the warmth and resilience of his skin.
‘I’m not a one-night stand kind of guy.’
‘Secondly, we should tidy away the dinner things.’
‘Probably.’
‘Or rinse off the dishes, at least.’
He nodded solemnly, stroking her cheek with one long finger. ‘Nothing worse than dried-on food.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Was that the third thing?’
She bit her lip, her breathing erratic. ‘I’m … not sure.’
He had found the pins keeping her hair up, and now deftly pulled them out so her hair tumbled down around her shoulders.
‘Beautiful.’ He combed his fingers through her mousey-brown strands and raised a handful to his cheek, breathing in. ‘You smell of Christmas.’
‘Probably the cinnamon-scented candles I was demonstrating today.’
‘Kiss me,’ he said softly.
She wanted to give in, to let go of her inhibitions. But first she needed him to understand her fears. ‘Please don’t play games with me, Daniel.’
‘I won’t.’
‘I’m not cut out to be a holiday distraction.’
‘But you are a distraction.’ He leaned in and nuzzled the curve of her shoulder, his rough cheek gently abrading her skin. ‘And I never play games with something as serious as this.’ He set a trail of little kisses up her neck to her jaw, and she tilted her head to give him easier access, her eyes fluttering shut. ‘I’m not a prankster like those guys at the garden centre, okay? You can trust me.’
Could she?
His body pressed against hers, and she held her breath. What was it she had been worried about? It didn’t seem so important now. Daniel’s palm cradled the nape of her neck, and pulled her even closer so that they were standing chest-to-chest. In his bedroom too, she reminded herself, suddenly aware that his luxurious-looking bed was only a couple of feet away.
‘I hate pranks,’ she whispered.
‘I hear you.’
Hannah rose onto her toes and pressed her lips daringly to Daniel’s. His grip on her nape tightened. ‘Yes,’ he said hoarsely.
Their kiss was wild, hot and unbearably hungry, despite the stroganoff they had both just devoured. She soon lost control over her desire- a control that had been tenuous at best, anyway – and dragged at his clothing, fumbling with buttons, then pulling his shirt loose at last and throwing it aside. His hands found the zip on the back of her dress, and suddenly she was practically naked in his arms. It did not feel wrong though, and somehow they staggered as far as Daniel’s bed without breaking contact.
They kissed and touched heatedly for some minutes, learning each other’s bodies, then Daniel rolled over on the mattress to make it possible to remove his trousers. Struggling to sit up so she could unclasp her bra, Hannah’s elbow somehow dug into his hard abdomen.
‘Easy,’ he managed to gasp.
She caught his eye, and they both laughed. Then started kissing wildly again, bare limbs wrapped together, until things went far beyond laughter, and all Hannah could hear was the blood pumping in her veins and the creaking of old-fashioned bed springs.
Later, Hannah lay on her back staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of what had happened. She’d always thought that kind of great, uninhibited, first-time sex only happened in films. But she’d been proved wrong tonight.
Daniel lay sprawled out next to her, breathing heavily but not quite snoring, his long, powerful legs hogging most of the bed. She gave him a gentle nudge with her foot to see if he would move over. But he didn’t budge so she kicked out a bit harder.
‘Why-What?’
‘I’ve got no room here,’ she whispered. ‘Move over.’
He did move over, of course, being a gentleman. Yet somehow he managed to tug her with him, so they ended up tangled together anyway, her head on his broad shoulder, their legs entwined. It was sweet and rather nice, Hannah reflected sleepily. Who knew? The big man liked to cuddle. Her heart went all fuzzy, and she smiled secretly against his shoulder. Perhaps this could work, this thing they had between them, whatever it was.
As a lover he was exceptional; he liked kissing and cuddling; he could cook fantastic meals; and he was capable of small romantic gestures. More importantly, for her at least, there was an easy companionship between them, and plenty of warm-hearted laughter. They shared a strong sense of humour, and that was something she had always sought in a partner.
Somewhere around that equally troubling and wonderful thought, she fell asleep, still cradled in his arms.
When she woke up, it was to find his side of the bed empty, and the early sun streaming in through gaps in his curtains.
‘Daniel?’
Where had he gone?
Hannah slipped out from between crumpled sheets and tiptoed to the half-open door, naked and self-conscious, her skin already chilling, and her heart with it, worried he might have left her alone in Ivy’s house. But when she heard the self-explanatory sound of a shower running in the bathroom across the hall, she laughed, shaking her head at her own paranoia.
Mystery solved.
Her movements languid and relaxed, a smile still curving her lips, Hannah started gathering her scattered clothes from around the bed. She rescued Daniel’s clothes too and folded them neatly, placing them on the foot of his bed.
She put on her underwear first, then her crumpled dress, which made a bold splash of scarlet against the conservative beige of Ivy’s carpet. She glanced across the room, catching a movement out of the corner of her eye, and found the snake watching from its tank with unblinking eyes as she wriggled into the dress, tugging it down over her hips. She felt ridiculous, being discomposed by his nosy snake, but soft colour flared in her cheeks as she remembered how urgently Daniel had dragged her clothes off last night.
The shower had stopped running, she realised, and now she could Daniel singing to himself downstairs. Perhaps making them some breakfast, though she almost certainly would not have time to eat any.
Suddenly she heard a repeated ringtone, and then Daniel’s deep tones as he answered his phone. That voice sent a series of delicious shivers down her spine as she recalled him murmuring in her ear as they made love.
Behave, she told herself firmly. She had to go to work.
Dragging her attention back to getting dressed, Hannah found an errant shoe behind the bedroom door and pounced on it. ‘Aha, got you.’
Slipping it on, she cast around for the other high heel, but there was no sign of it. Puzzled, she hobbled out into the hall to look there. She had picked up her own phone from beside Woody’s tank, and now pressed the screen for the time display.
It was later than she’d thought. If she didn’t get a move on, she was going to be late for work. After all, she still had to grab a quick shower at home herself and get changed before heading off to the garden centre.
Daniel’s rich tones floated up to her from what she guessed was the kitchen, his words painfully clear as he said, ‘I can’t help it, sweetheart. No, I know it’s …’ He moved away, and the next words were lost in the rumbling boil of the kettle. But the damage was done. Hannah frowned, her breath hitching. They’d just been to bed together, and she distinctly remembered him saying he wasn’t into one-night-stands. So who the hell was Daniel calling ‘sweetheart’?
With only one heel on, she crept down three stairs, keeping one hand on the banister for balance because her right leg was now four inches shorter than her left.
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be there, but something came up. I know that I promised.’ His tone had turned cajoling and low. ‘Look, I’ll make it up to you. Yes, darling, whatever you want.’ There was a long pause, as though he were listening to whoever was on the other end of that call. Then he finished warmly, ‘I love you too.’
Hannah’s fingers tightened around the rail as her knees buckled. How stupid could she be, believing a man from a celebrity background when he said he wasn’t a game player? A man like Daniel Elliott was always playing games. And this was the oldest game around, wasn’t it? With no absence of idiotic, gullible women ready and eager to play it with him …
Desperate not to see him again, driven by an almost primitive need to run and hide, Hannah crept down to the front door and let herself out quietly.
Keeping to the snow-covered verge again so the gravel wouldn’t crunch and give her away, she limped home as fast as she could, hop-lurching across the road with her bare foot getting wetter and more frozen with every painful step.
Damn Daniel Elliot. Damn him to hell.