Chapter Two

“Tom, hold on a minute!”

“Don’t worry,” he said, tugging her to an empty table in a dark corner of the function room. “Contrary to appearances, I really don’t bite.”

He let go of her hand and pulled back a chair. “Sit down, please.”

She was open-mouthed as he slipped off his morning jacket and hooked it over the back of the chair. Even in the half-light, the breadth of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist almost snatched her breath away. His brocade waistcoat hugged his body like a second skin. Why did formal clothes do that for a man? Even Mr. Average could look half decent in a frock coat and cravat. As for a man like Tom, six feet plus of dangerous sensuality… Well, it just shouldn’t be allowed.

“Sit down.”

“Not until you tell me what you’re doing.”

“Please.”

She sat. Then watched as he settled his long, lean frame into a seat and leaned back. He looked absolutely, totally, infuriatingly at ease.

“Now, Ms. Grayson. I want to know just what you’ve been teaching your students about Papua New Guinea.”

“This isn’t fair! You’ve actually lived there.”

“Yes, but I want to hear your version of the story.”

“It’s not a version. It’s accurate. We only have pictures and DVDs and the Internet, of course. None of us has actually visited the area, but we’ve been using it to help the children learn about geography and art and biology. Exploring different ways of life…”

“Fascinating,” he said, leaning on the table and resting his chin on his hand. “Do go on.”

“No way. Not if you’re going to be sarcastic again.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He bestowed one of his half smiles on her. She wished he wouldn’t. And there was something else. Even though she felt like a pupil being tested on her times table or French verbs, she also felt like—well, like Tom Carew was flirting with her.

Which was annoying.

And ridiculous.

And sexy.

“Let’s hear it, then, Ms. Grayson. I’m waiting.”

He sat back in his chair and folded his arms, eyes glinting in the half-light of the room. Oh, why was he doing this? Suddenly, she knew that whatever she said, however accurate, however confident she sounded, he was going to shoot her down in flames.

And right now, she longed to be burned.

She held his gaze, daring him to look away. “Papua New Guinea is part of the largest non-continental island in the Pacific. It has more than six hundred islands and is south of the equator.” Keira paused, wondering why the leather seat of her chair had become so warm.

“Carry on. Full marks so far.”

She moistened her lips. “This is so not fair.”

“Just get on with it.” The corners of his mouth twitched encouragingly in a smile. “Just get on with it—please,” he added.

“Okay. You asked for it. The capital is called Port Moresby, and the terrain is made up of reef-fringed lowlands and some very big mountains, and there are also some active volcanoes and earthquakes and…” It all came out in a rush, as excitedly and incoherently as any child in her class. This was ridiculous. She was a grown woman. She could silence thirty chattering tongues with one word. Tame aggressive fathers with a single sentence. Yet here she was, dissolving into jelly in front of one man.

“Very impressive. I’d say you’d have got ten out of ten for that. Even from my old Latin master. However, aren’t you missing the point somewhat?”

“What do you mean?”

“Facts are all very well, but they can’t possibly tell the real story, can they? The beauty of the landscape, the wildlife, the people…the sounds, sheer colour of it…” His eyes were drawn to the windows, where the October evening had already turned dark. “The culture is so diverse and rich. Each community has different needs. You can’t generalize. Your children need to really experience what living in Papua is like. Amazing, vibrant, challenging.”

Keira sat, transfixed, feeling the warmth in his voice.

Tom frowned. “I’m sorry. I must be boring you.”

“Oh no.”

With a voice like his, he could have made the telephone directory sound like poetry. “No, on the contrary, please go on,” she said. “Don’t stop there. What was it like? Working in such a strange place, so far from home?”

“An honour,” he shot back. “Tough and challenging, but a great privilege. To help the people out there. I mean, the contrast with here is incredible, and some of the facilities are rudimentary outside the main centres of population. But the people are so generous and courageous. I learned so much from them. Far more than they ever got from me,” he added ruefully.

“And you can’t wait to go back.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“I’m afraid so.”

He nodded, and Keira suddenly knew. The realization made her feel cold. It meant that much to him, then, his work, the people. It was an impossible act to compete with, a desire that fierce. For anyone, especially an ordinary teacher from the suburbs. And there was something she wanted to ask, needed the answer to, and she didn’t know why it mattered so much, it just did.

“Why did you come back? Why are you here working in a city doctor’s surgery sorting out people’s bunions and colds?”

She saw the ironic twist of the mouth, already recognizing the signal when he felt awkward or challenged. “To be fair, most patients present with more serious problems than that.”

“I know. That was meant to be a joke.”

“Sorry. My sense of humour went into cardiac arrest.”

Now she got the full-on smile. The relaxing of the jaw that transformed his whole expression from harsh to almost gentle. She watched as his fingers stroked his glass, wiping away the condensation. What would it be like to be touched by those fingers that had known so much…

She tingled all over, from her toes to her breasts, which had suddenly become heavy with desire. Look what he could do to her, this private man she was speaking to so intimately. For she sensed it was intimate, the way he was letting her inside his head.

“You asked me why I came back,” he replied. “Simple, really. My two-year posting came to an end, and I wanted to experience another culture. Just as fascinating in its own way, and difficult at times, but not quite the same.”

Tom hoped Keira couldn’t see the slight tremor in his hand brought on by his being slightly economical with the truth. But sometimes wasn’t it better to give people half a story? How could he tell a girl he’d only just met the real reason he was back home? How could he confess the truth—that if he had his way, he would be back in the rainforest right now?

A sudden thought seized him. That wasn’t true, was it? At this moment, leaving was the last thing on his mind, and that disturbed him more than anything.

As he looked down and saw her parted lips and eager eyes, guilt and desire mingled. He shifted in his seat as he felt himself growing hard. Rock hard. My God, she was scrambling his body and his brain.

“What I’m really trying to say, Keira, is that you need to tell your class the whole story if you want them to learn about life in the rainforest.”

“Actually, you’d do it much better than me. Why don’t you come and talk to the children?”

Tom felt his stomach clench. Now that was too much to ask. To speak about the place in public, answer questions—even from children—he could not face. Not even for a woman whose mouth he was already dreaming of kissing. His heart thudded against his chest.

“Keira, don’t take this the wrong way. I can see you’re a very conscientious teacher, that you care about the children and want them to really enjoy learning about the world. But you must know, I would be completely inept in front of a bunch of schoolchildren.”

He saw her, sitting patiently, waiting for him to continue. Just as if he were a pupil struggling to work out the answer to a tricky problem. She was different, this woman. Misguided too, wasting her skills on an irredeemable student like him, one who had made mistakes that could never be put right. Yet he wanted her so much to try, so he tried to explain.

“You wouldn’t. Not the way you just told your story to me. You made it seem so very real, so alive. To hear about your adventures would mean so much to them. If they could hear you, experience what you have—”

“I’m afraid it’s absolutely out of the question.”

“But…”

A knot tightened in his stomach. Oh God. Not here. He had to get out.

“I’m sorry, Keira, but the answer’s no.”

Lights flashed, and a thudding beat heralded the start of the DJ setting up. Soon they wouldn’t be able to hear themselves think, let alone talk. If he didn’t walk away now, he might reveal more than he already had.

Sweat was already breaking out on his forehead as he grabbed his jacket and sprang to his feet. “I’ve taken up too much of your time. You must excuse me. It’s been a pleasure meeting you. Good-bye.”

 

 

Well, how do you like that? You invite a man to chat to a bunch of Year Fives, and he reacts as if you’ve asked him to have a full body wax.

She knew she was trying to make light of his response, but it wasn’t working. Keira couldn’t laugh at Tom Carew. Not in that way. It wasn’t funny, being led up the garden path like that and believing he was interested in her, flirting with her. That there was actually a nice guy underneath that caustic exterior.

Her gaze followed him as he made his way out of the room. As his impressive back view disappeared, Su pounced.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“How was Lord Tom?”

“It’s The Honourable Tom.”

“Whatever. How did it go? Do you have a date at the palace? An invite to Will and Kate’s housewarming party? The number of his valet?”

“It was a bit of a let-down.”

Su pulled a mock face. “What do you mean?”

“He blows hot and cold.”

“Mmm… Sounds great.”

“Not in a good way.” Keira gave a sigh. “Look, can we go into the lounge and try and get a coffee? The dancing’s about to start, and I don’t think I can stand the conga right at this moment.”

 

 

Tom sucked in a long, slow breath and leaned against a stone statue. This damn thing he was wrestling with had got the better of him again. He’d had to get away, just had to.

Ahead of him, across the moonlit gardens, the windows of the function room glowed red and green and purple. His breath emerged in clouds of mist as he tried to focus on exhaling slowly. He shivered as the sweat trickling down the small of his back cooled and evaporated.

He blinked at the dial of his watch. He really could have done with more sleep, but it had been another one of those nights. For the third time in as many weeks, he’d been jolted awake in the small hours with a suddenness that left his heart pounding, and he’d struggled to work out where he was. The sweat glazing his chest told him he was back in the rainforest village, but as his heart had begun to slow, as he’d felt the chilly night air licking his body, he’d realised the truth. He’d risen from his bed on shaky legs and wrenched open the sash window of the bedroom. A fox sniffed the air beneath the old yew tree. Mist was rising from the leaves on the manicured lawns.

Then he’d known exactly where he was.

Back home.

He glanced up at the hotel again and heard shrieks of laughter above the pounding bass line. What have you turned into, Tom? What kind of man refused an invitation to talk to a group of children? From a lovely girl like Keira too. He hugged his arms to his chest. It was bloody freezing out here, even colder than he’d remembered London could be, yet the warm feeling that eddied through him, taking the edge off the chill, took him by complete surprise. For the first time in many, many months, he realised something. He wasn’t wishing himself back in the tropical heat of the village. He was wishing he had the courage to go inside and tell Keira he would talk to her students.

He set off on the gravel path towards the flashing lights. He should get back in there and behave like a gentleman should. No—like a man should. But God knew how he was going to find the nerve to do it.

 

 

Two large and very expensive cappuccinos later, Keira was still reeling from Tom Carew’s good cop, bad cop routine. The way he’d sparked into life when he’d talked about his work, the fire in his voice, had made her ache to know more about him. Those midnight eyes had been lit with distant fire like a shooting star on a clear night. His deep voice had been thick with longing for the place he couldn’t wait to return to.

She wondered if he’d ever felt that passionately about a woman, but somehow she doubted it. How could anyone compete with his vocation? Besides, what was the point in wanting to get to know Tom better? She’d touched only one tiny raw nerve, and he’d jumped like he’d been electrocuted.

She’d braved the function room again—she couldn’t stay in the lounge forever, and besides, Su had disappeared in search of the hotel’s wedding manager. And now here she was playing wallflower. Leaning back against the oak paneling, rubbing one sore foot against the back of her aching calf. Thank goodness it was nearly time for the bride and groom to leave for their honeymoon. Now there were only the slow dances to endure.

She levered herself off the wall and padded over the plush pile and sank down onto a chair. She watched as partners reached for each other, as hands settled on backs and shoulders and heads were laid lovingly on chests or held back, tense, keeping a safe distance.

She’d been through all the stages, in the days when she’d danced with Alex, first excitedly, then dutifully, and finally, not at all.

“Keira.”

Long, strong fingers skated briefly over the bare skin of her shoulders.

“Would you like to dance?”

The tiny, downy hairs on her arm rose in the wake of that touch as she slowly turned to face Tom. Her nipples responded too, and he couldn’t fail to notice.

Even with the benefit of her heels, Tom was head and shoulders taller than her. Now he towered above her. Like her, he’d abandoned some of his clothes. His waistcoat was gone and his cravat abandoned. The top buttons were undone, a sprinkling of dark hair visible in the open V.

Thud.

“I’m asking you to dance.”

Double thud.

“I could say it’s absolutely out of the question.”

“And I’d deserve it. I think I may have been a bit of a prat back there.”

“Again.” How cool she sounded, how sophisticated, but her racing heart told her otherwise.

Tom gave a rueful smile that threatened to melt her in a pool of drool. “So this is a peace offering. Will you dance with me?”

“I don’t think you really want to do that. It’s probably just guilt.”

“Guilt is an overrated virtue, believe me,” he replied. “But I’m wearing the hair shirt. Can’t you tell it’s prickling?”

“Not enough. It needs to really itch to work properly.” Keira couldn’t believe her daring, baiting someone like Tom Carew. She knew she was playing a dark and sexy game that could only lead to trouble.

“You’re going to make it really hurt before you agree to dance with me, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Yes. And the punishment is that you come to school and speak to my class.”

His eyes gleamed, and for a moment she thought he was going to refuse and leave her. Goose bumps rose on her bare arms.

“I’ll consider it. If you agree to a dance.”

She took his hands, and his fingers closed around hers, making her hand seem delicate as a child’s. Now they were pressed together in the dark heat of the overcrowded dance floor. Tom’s arms were around her waist pulling her close to him, and his warm breath was whispering against the skin on the back of her neck. Her fingers were trying not to explore the hard muscles in his back through his shirt. He smelled fresh and male, and it was all she could do not to take a deep breath of him. Over his shoulder, she could see gazes fixed on them.

“You don’t do this very often, do you, Tom?” she asked, seeing lots of heads turn in her direction as the other guests nudged each other.

“Why? Is my dancing that bad?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.

“Not at all. It’s very…nice, but you doing it at all seems to have attracted quite a lot of attention.”

“Hmm. I thought it might. And you’re right. I don’t dance very often.”

“Not even at weddings?”

“Especially not at weddings. In fact, I’m usually well out of them by ten—if I can’t get out of attending in the first place. I’m told everyone has a fantastic time after I’ve left.”

Her body relaxed as she laughed at his joke, tension starting to ebb away from her legs and shoulders. His hands shifted lower down her back. His fingers were skating over her silky slip of a dress. Any lower and… He wouldn’t do that, would he? Stiff, aloof Tom? He wouldn’t lay those strong aristocratic hands on her bottom like—like many of the couples around them were already doing. She tensed her buttocks as his fingertips rested on the base of her spine.

“Did you know Matt before you worked together?” she croaked.

“Oh yes, we were at Oxford together.”

“Of course. Silly of me.”

“Are you all right, Keira? Your voice sounds rather hoarse.”

“Does it?” she croaked. “No. It’s just a sore throat. I mean—not that I need medical attention.”

“Good, because I’m off duty.”

His hands slipped lower. Barely a centimetre, but she guessed what he was up to. Checking to see if she’d changed into the thong. His fingers halted at the waistband of her panties and—no, she wasn’t imagining it, they were pressing against the lacy ridge of her underwear, subtly mapping the extent of it.

Keira thanked her lucky stars they were low-slung mini-shorts. If all she’d had between the heat of Tom’s palms and her naked skin was the flimsy silk of her dress, she didn’t think she could cope.

“Were you at the same college?” she squeaked.

“No. We met in the university rowing club.”

“Does that mean you were in the Boat Race?”

He laughed. “Hell, no. I barely made the reserve boat, let alone the first eight.”

“Really?”

“Let’s not talk about me. I want to know about you.”

Smooth as you like, his hands slipped lower and rested casually on her bottom. Warm and big and… She was screwed up so tight inside, it was almost hurting.

“Ohhh.”

“Are you quite sure you’re okay?” he enquired mischievously, tilting back his head.

“Yes. Oh yes. Quite all right. Fine, in fact. And you don’t want to know about me. It’s all very boring…and…”

She clutched his back tighter, feeling the muscles ripple under her fingertips. How much longer could she keep from pressing her aching body against his thighs?

“Hmm?”

She was raw-voiced as she answered. “You still haven’t agreed to my proposition.”

“What proposition was that?”

“To talk to the children.”

“Ah, that proposition.”

“Well?”

The last bar of the ballad ended in a flourish. Tom’s hands lingered on her rear for a moment longer than was necessary; then he stood back and gave a little bow as if he were a gentleman in a Regency ballroom.

A gentleman. As if. Tom was as red-blooded as any man she’d met, hotter than any she’d ever danced with. She ought to put as much distance between them as possible. Really.

He smiled the smile of a man who knew he’d just won a battle. “I’m afraid the price just went up. I’m going to need much more than a dance from you, Miss Grayson.”

“Wh-what do you mean, ‘the price has gone up’?”

“I want to take you out to dinner.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t mean that,” she murmured softly as he held out an arm to squire her off the dance floor.

Tom frowned. “Strange, but at medical school they didn’t tell me telepathy was one of the human senses. Besides, it’s your duty to say yes. Don’t class 9H…”

“It’s 5S.”

“Whatever. Don’t they deserve to meet a real-life person from PNG?”

“Yes, they do, but I’m not sure it’s worth submitting to blackmail…”

“Keira, please, I’m harmless, you can see that. It’s only dinner you’re agreeing to, not a headhunting expedition.”

Oh, but he was. She could smell the danger and excitement of Tom Carew, and it was driving her crazy even though she’d known him only a few hours.

Someone flicked the lights on, and Keira squinted in the fluorescent glare. Then she saw what she hadn’t noticed before. Behind the confident gaze and half smile, there were tiny lines around his eyes and dark shadows under them. He was weary of something or maybe just bored. Of game-playing, perhaps? Of dancing and flirting? Whatever, he expected an answer.

She could try to kid herself she would agree for the children of class 5S, for the education and broadening of their minds, but she knew it wasn’t true. She was doing it because he was six feet two of smouldering sex appeal. Everything about him, from his top-drawer accent to his Second Eight physique, screamed that he was not the man for her, and nothing shouted it louder than his determination to be out of her world as soon as possible.

“I’ll be at school on Wednesday at two p.m.,” he said, gesturing to the side of the dance floor.

“Hey, I don’t know if I can fix that. It’s Literacy Hour.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s my half-day, and even then I might have to cry off.”

“If you say you’re coming, you keep your promise. I won’t have my class disappointed.”

His forehead creased in a frown; then he nodded. “You’re absolutely right, of course. In that case, I’ll be there. Barring a major emergency, that is.” He squinted at the dial of his watch. “And now I really must go. I have a wedding car to trash. I’ll see you on Wednesday, and then we’ll fix a date for dinner.”

“I haven’t said yes to any dinner.”

“I’m afraid you have no choice.”

She wondered why she was fizzing, why electricity was running through her body. He had started to walk away as she dared to say it: “What can you possibly do to make me, Dr. Carew?”

Slowly, he turned round and paused before taking a step towards her.

“Well. For a start, I could tell everyone you dropped your knickers in front of me in the churchyard.”