‘I’m perfectly able to do all that myself,’ Blade replied stiffly, very much on his dignity, the effect of which was spoilt slightly by the carefulness with which he sat down on the stool and the red patches burning on his tanned skin.
‘Where’s the swarm now?’ Amy asked blandly, after she had ascertained all the stings were out and had daubed cream over the marks on his back, Blade insisting that he do the rest himself. She didn’t protest; there had been something immensely sexy about his vulnerability that had her hands shaking before she had finished applying the cream to the big, hard-planed body.
‘You’ll have to excuse me, but I didn’t stop to find out where they went,’ Blade said scathingly as he moved to the kitchen window and peered out. ‘I was rather preoccupied myself.’
‘Ran in here like a greyhound,’ Mrs Cox supplied helpfully, ‘swearing like a trooper he was. Banged the door shut so hard it’s a wonder it didn’t fly off its hinges.’
It was the final straw. The picture that Mrs Cox had conjured up was so unlike the smooth powerful businessman and ruthless tycoon that the world knew that Amy felt the last of her composure melt on a flood of laughter that was unstoppable. She was aware of Blade’s face changing from one of aggrieved surprise to wry humour and then he was laughing too, his eyes rueful.
Quite when her laughter changed to tears she wasn’t sure, but at the same time as Blade lifted her up into his arms as he sat back on the stool she was aware of Mrs Cox quietly slipping away into the small front room closing the door gently behind her. ‘I’m sorry …’ She tried to pull away but the hard masculine arms tightened as he pulled her closer into his hair-roughened chest, and then the flood-gates really opened, the tide unstoppable.
It was a good few minutes later before the racking sobs turned into tearful hiccups and then stopped altogether, but as they died she became aware that Blade’s arms were wonderfully comforting, his strength non-threatening. ‘Better?’ He raised her tear-drenched face by lifting her chin carefully, gazing into the drowned violet eyes searchingly.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said again, her cheeks scarlet as she tried to move out of his arms. ‘I didn’t mean—’
He sensed her panic, his voice soothing. ‘Relax, sweetheart, relax. I haven’t taken this little display of normal human weakness as an invitation in any form. This is just a friend comforting a friend, OK?’
‘You said we weren’t friends any more,’ she said shakily as she slid to her feet, her hair tangled gold, its colour all the more vivid against her white strained face. ‘Remember?’
‘In certain circumstances we have to adjust,’ he said with dry humour, his eyes warm. ‘Once you are your old self again we can resume hostilities, if you insist.’
‘I don’t want us to be enemies, Blade,’ she whispered honestly, her eyes enormous. ‘I want …’ Her voice trailed away.
‘I don’t think you know what you do want,’ he said slowly. ‘You sure are one mixed-up lady.’ Again he sensed her withdrawal at the oblique probing and he finished the moment of intimacy by getting to his feet and reaching for the small tube of ointment. ‘Are you going to continue the Florence Nightingale act?’ he asked drily. ‘Because one of those little hornets made a short and fatal journey into the inside of my shorts, the result of which needs attention. Care to investigate?’ His eyes were wicked and she blushed hotly as he lowered his denim shorts in careless disregard of his nakedness. ‘You could always kiss it better,’ he suggested, his face straight, as he daubed a small blob of cream strategically in place before hoisting the shorts into place again and swallowing a couple of the small white tablets.
‘I’ve got to get ready for work,’ she said faintly, escaping out of the kitchen to the sound of a deep mocking chuckle of dark amusement.
Once back in her room she paced restlessly, her head spinning. That was stupid, stupid, she told herself frantically as she relived the scene below. He’ll think … What would he think? She shut her eyes tightly as she sank down on the small narrow bed. She didn’t know. She had never understood that cool analytical mind that was so dangerously astute and intelligent. She knew he was feared, as well as highly respected, amongst his peers with a reputation for striking straight at the jugular with deadly precision, but with her he had been different. From carefully stage-dropped remarks at parties and such like she had gathered he could be just as ruthless in his private life as in business and yet with her … She shook her head slowly. He had been gentle and tender and wonderfully loving.