The Scent of His Woman Read online

  Excerpt

  ‘Well, time to pay up don’t you think,’ the amusement was infuriatingly evident in his voice. When all she did was stand and wait, he gently prompted.

  ‘This is where you kiss me, one kiss bestowed upon your knight in shining armour

  as we agreed.’

  Lexie steeled herself, knowing he was making her give him the kiss rather than take

  it, just to emphasis the point. Stepping forward and reaching up she put her hands on his

  shoulders and quickly planted a peck on his cheek. Slightly rough now with the days

  growth of stubble, even that brief contact was searing, hot and sexy. She’d intended to

  step back quickly and escape through the shop door before he could object. Geth however

  knew just what she intended and slipped his hand around her waist stopping her escape. ‘Now come on, that is not entirely in the spirit, is it?’

  His voice was gently mocking as he moved his face close to hers.

  ‘Have dinner with me tomorrow and we will renegotiate.’

  ‘No.’

  Her one word answer made him smile.

  ‘OK, then pay up nicely now,’ he rejoined as he lowered his head and claimed her

  mouth.

  All characters and events in this book are entirely the fictional work of the author and are not based on any persons either living or dead.

  All rights reserved and copying of this book in any format is prohibited.

  Castle Romance 2012 http://castleromance.webs.com/

  Maggie Pritchard was born and bred in Wales. She still lives within a few miles of where she was born and shares her life with her husband, three spoilt dogs and a pampered cat, while her children and their families remain close. Introduced to romance novels at an early age she now writes women’s fiction as a release from an otherwise hectic but rewarding work and home life. This is her third ‘Castle Romance’ and again the story is set in the Wales.

  The Scent of His Woman.

  Chapter 1

  Lexie settled herself in a back row seat. Having draped her wrap over the chair in front and stowing her big bag underneath, she looked around, taking stock as she waited for the meeting to begin. Representatives of GLM Construction were filing in to take up the seats behind the table at the front of the room, while the deputation from the protest group filled the seats arranged in the middle of the big room. Four burly security guards watched from their vantage points. Positions that had been chosen to allow them to intervene quickly if the need arose, she noted. It seemed the opposition was expecting trouble. The thought made her uneasy, and she remembered some of the heated discussions that had bounced around the minibus on the journey to London, wondering, not for the first time that day, what had possessed her to agree to be part of this. It wasn’t that she was indifferent to the effect the new development would have on the little village she lived in. It was an abomination, of course it was. It was just that since the professional protest advisors had arrived the whole thing seemed to have taken on a life of its own.

  As part of the local action group Lexie had, at least to begin with, been glad of the professional way the newcomers had sprung into action. It was quite amazing really, meetings were called, press invited, petitions circulated and signed and a twenty four hour watch had been organised to block the start of any work on the site. Within days the construction company had been reviled in the local media and had responded with a request for this semi-public meeting at their London office. All good progress admittedly, but at the same time, she knew she was not the only local resident of LLan-aberth that was feeling as if this whole thing was running on out of their control. That was why, at last week’s action group meeting, she had been nominated to be here today to speak for the locals and didn’t that just sum it up? One local resident where there should have been a dozen!

  At last it looked as if the meeting was about to begin, Lexie shook herself out of her reverie and began to take note of those around her, particularly those who were likely to be the main players here today. The front row was completely taken now and it came as no surprise that the seats were filled with those protestors who had been most vociferous on the journey and indeed before. Others like her, with quieter voices, occupied the seats behind. She found herself wondering if there was a link between vocal ability and colour of dress too, as she ran her eyes over the brightly coloured garb of the front row. All but one of the seats behind the very large table at the front of the room were now also occupied, though there were no bright chunky knits in evidence there. Even the lone female sported a dark tailored suit and a crisp white shirt. As she watched, another ‘suit’ made his entrance to claim the empty chair in the middle of the row, this one though was different, this one stood out. Tow coloured hair contrasted with the dark suit. Taller than the rest, he filled to capacity the designer suit jacket with impossibly broad shoulders, Lexie could see the material tighten over his expansive back as he leant over to speak to one of his team. He seemed to command the attention of the whole group as he passed, making Lexie curious to know who he was. She shifted in her seat, straightening her back to crane over the shoulder of the man in front of her, at that very moment the tall man took his seat and turned to face the crowd.

  Lexie’s whole world tilted on its axis, as her panic ridden brain struggled to to believe what she was seeing. The man, who seemed to be preparing to chair this debate for GLM, was, without doubt, the very same man that six days ago, she’d left sleeping soundly in what she had believed to be a borrowed luxury apartment in the Welsh capital of Cardiff. An earth shattering need to get out of the room quickly, without being seen, flooded her brain, but there was no hope of leaving unnoticed. The meeting had begun and all she could do was sit tight.

  How could it be? He was just a construction worker looking for a bit of fun. What was he doing up there, dressed in a four figure suit and about to spot her any moment? Sliding down low in her seat, she prepared to hide until the meeting was over and she might be able to mingle with the crowd and escape unnoticed. Questions and responses began to be flung around the room as the debate began, the noise reverberating as the heated exchange gained momentum. But the thoughts reverberating in Lexie’s agitated brain were much more compelling, blocking out all except the memory of that amazing but shameful night. For the first time in a very long while, she’d lost control, abandoned all sense and caution and lived for the moment. Her parents would have been proud of her, but what her sisters would say was entirely another.

  They’d all been in the Black Lion pub following one of the action meetings. Though it was quite early, most of the locals on the action group had gone home and she was left with the small group of hardened protestors. There were six of them in all and the conversation had centered on the upcoming meeting that GLM had requested. The general feeling had been one of elation that they had made this big developer feel it had to talk to the people.

  ‘It’s a start’ said Holly, a pretty protestor with jeweled studs in her nose and lips. ‘But only a start’ the unofficial leader of the group had rejoined.

  ‘They think this will count for consulting with the local community and then they'll

  carry on. Our job is to see that they can’t do that, so we’ll all need to be at that meeting, they need to see we mean business. One thing though, we mustn't let anyone know that we’ll all be in London that day, they have to believe there’ll be enough of us left here to stop them, that the vigil goes on.’

  The nods and murmurs of assent from around the table had however been drowned out by the din of a group of construction workers for GLM making a noisy entrance to the bar. Six dusty, thirsty men, dressed in work jeans, shirts an
d boots, all gathered around the pretty barmaid, ordering drinks and snacks, laughing and joking as they began to unwind at the end of their working day. Early finish on Friday, Lexie remembered thinking, early finish on payday.

  He’d stood out from the crowd he came in with, firstly because of the sheer size of him, a good head taller than the rest and broader than any of them, and secondly because of the way he looked around, surveying the room with sharp eyes that missed nothing. Lexie relived a glimmer of the frisson she had felt when his eyes had met and held hers. It made goose bumps rise up on her skin even now. She had read arrogance in those eyes, or at least a self assurance that bordered on it, this was a man used to getting his own way and even as she mentally shied away from that, something warmed deep in the pit of her stomach in a most disconcerting way. She had looked away first, turning to recapture the thread of conversation around the table, but in actual fact she couldn't recall any of it now, only the sensation of knowing he was still watching her. She’d almost been able to feel the heat of his gaze.

  She had almost succeeded in blocking her awareness of him she remembered, until that moment he made contact. She hadn’t seen him move across the room. One minute he was leaning on the bar laughing and the next he was not. She did however remember exactly when he suddenly materialised besides her. The scent of his cologne mixed with the sweat and dust of his day, so definitely male, had filled her nostrils and flooded a disquieting warmth deep into her lower belly. Then he reached over her shoulder, closed one huge hand over hers and removed the lip-salve she was just going to reapply, whispering into her ear as he did so.

  ‘Now that is not what I will want to taste when I kiss you.’

  Then he was gone and her lippy too, and she had been left, mouth open at his audacity, to watch him reclaim his position at the bar. Lexie had glared at him, annoyed at the brazen way he returned her furious gaze, a smile playing at the corner of his firmly sculpted mouth. How dare he, she’d thought, reaching forward without thinking to pick up a small pot of some iridescent green goo that Holly had just applied to her multi-perforated mouth, dipped her finger in and slowly applied it to her own mouth, all the time holding his eyes with her own defiant gaze. Her temperature had risen a full few degrees though, when his only reaction was an almost imperceptible deepening of the smile and a sardonic lift of one eyebrow. Furious she’d dragged her eyes away from his and deliberately refused to look in his direction for the next hour, concentrating instead on the groups plans.

  It had come as a bit of a shock therefore, when as they had all left the pub she found him waiting outside. Leaning with calm assurance against one of the huge 4x4s that GLM seemed to hand out to its men with extravagant regularity, and she’d known with an unwelcome certainty, that he was waiting for her.

  She had hesitated for a second, torn, not sure if she should ignore him and walk away, or confront him. Deciding that to have any exchange with him would be playing into his hands, she turned to follow the others, but by now they were quite a way down the lane, so she quickened her step to catch them up and a feeling of unease at her exposed position began to flood through her. She had almost been running, she remembered but still the others passed out of sight around a bend in the road before she could catch them up. She could have called out to them she had thought afterwards, but at the time she didn’t, maybe because she didn’t really know any of them very well. As they disappeared from view Lexie had stopped dead in the middle of the road, alone now, there was nothing to do but face him out. As the feeling of unease grew, she had to remind herself that there was nothing to be afraid of, she was outside a public house in broad daylight, what could he possibly do? So she’d turned around, half hoping he had gone, but of course he hadn’t. He had still been in the same place, still leaning against that impossibly enormous machine, still looking at her with that infuriating calm air of control. She’d stood as if mesmerised, rooted to the spot, watching as he stood up straight and slowly, with a few long relaxed strides, walked over to her, not once taking his eyes from hers. Up close his bulk had seemed to block out the light and the male scent of him flooded her nostrils again. Lexie had to look up to meet his gaze, his eyes were blue, but not the bright cornflower blue you would expect from his thick thatch of corn coloured hair, but a hard steely, almost silvery blue and they were focused directly on her with a frightening intensity that made her stiffen in apprehension as she waited, almost desperate for him to say something, anything, to diffuse this tension.

  When he spoke his voice was deep, almost soothing and his words had chased the fear from her.

  ‘You know you don’t need to be afraid of me’ he’d said.

  ‘Just as you know you will come with me, don’t you?’

  All she had been able to do was nod her acquiescence and take the hand he held out to her, it was as if being this close to him she lost the ability to think for herself. He’d led her gently to the waiting vehicle, opened the passenger door and helped her in, reaching over her to fasten her belt and filling her whole world with his bulk and scent again. She’d watched with bated breath as he walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in and she’d made no move to stop him as he’d leant over, cupped her face in one big hand and looking deep into her eyes said.

  ’Hi, I’m Geth, who are you?’

  In a tremulous voice she’d answered. ‘Lexie, my name is Lexie... Alexandria’. ‘

  Hello Alexandria cariad’, he’d murmured as he lowered his mouth to hers.

  Lexie re-lived the moment as she sat there in that London conference room. Remembering how right the endearment in his mother tongue of Welsh sounded, cariad ‘beloved’ he’d called her softly, tenderly. Remembering how he’d moved his gaze from her eyes to focus intently on her mouth as he slowly closed the gap between them. Remembering how he’d exhaled slowly, deliberately, so she’d had no choice but to breathe in the air he’d just exhaled, creating an intensely personal connection between them. Remembering how he’d smiled as he ran the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, as if he knew that as soon as she’d been able to she’d discretely wiped her mouth free of the green goo, wiped it clean for him. Then as she remembered the first feather light touch of his mouth on hers, she sank even deeper into her seat with a faint sigh. His mouth had been cool as he’d softly pressed it against hers in a gentle almost chaste kiss, then moving slowly he’d kissed the corners of her mouth and the bow of her top lip before increasing the pressure and opening his mouth to taste her with his tongue. Then he backed off slightly with a murmur of appreciation, before moving back to kiss her fully and passionately. His mouth had been hard she remembered, as he deepened the kiss, pressing with lips and tongue, silently demanding that she open her mouth for him, then groaning deep in his chest as she’d done just that. She felt him again in her memory, recalling not just feel of him, but the taste and scent too and the way she’d felt bereft when he’d moved away to buckle up and start the big car. They had been miles down the road before she had even begun to recover her senses.

  She’d watched him drive, handling the big vehicle with relaxed confidence, not questioning where he was taking her. When they’d pulled in to a small country pub, she’d let him lead her in, settle her in a quiet corner and she waited while he ordered for them both, a spicy Mexican platter to share, with a soft fruity red wine for her and a coke for himself. Even sharing the meal with him had been sensuous she thought, eating with fingers, dipping the food into the selection of sauces, laughing as he reached over to gently wipe a spot of soured cream that had somehow been smudged onto the tip of her nose. As the wine took effect she’d begun to relax and the conversation flowed, she’d talked about herself, her life, her little shop, her passion for cycling, even about her two beloved sisters, especially about them.

  She’d talked about the protest too, tentatively at first, as obviously they would be on opposing sides in some ways about that. But he had seemed so interested, especially when she voiced her reservations about t
he protestors from outside, so she had prattled innocently on. Then all too soon they were back in the car and this time she did question where they were going.

  ‘Will you take me home now?’

  She’d asked, then forgotten everything as he’d pulled into the circle of his arms and kissed her. ‘

  If that’s what you really want, I will,’ he’d said softly against her lips, ‘but it’s not what you want, is it? Tell me, truthfully.’

  To this day Lexie could not quite understand why she had not taken him up on his chivalrous offer to return her safe and sound to her home. Maybe that was it, the safe bit, maybe for once she didn’t want to be safe, maybe she’d had enough of the nice safe life she’d built around herself. The nice safe, but passionless life of a frigid old maid!

  It had started in college. She’d tried to be modern and free living, she really had, but every time a boy had got close enough to touch she’d shied away. It was all so animalistic, the groping, the grabbing, the slobbered kisses and hot sweaty hands. She just couldn’t stand it and the very thought of further intimacies made her feel absolutely sick. She toyed with the idea that she might be gay for a short while, then realised that it was not her prospective partner’s gender that was the problem. The problem was her, she was not cut out for intimacy, in fact she couldn’t even begin to entertain it and the only answer, for the time being at any rate, was to remain a virgin. That had been all very well as an idea, but, not unpredictably, students were expected to be in the forefront of all those lifestyle choices that contributed to the liberated society of the last decade of the millennium and that posed problems for a would be permanent virgin. So she had carefully cultivated a facade, a false image of an outspoken, almost aggressive man hunter. To her female friend she became a connoisseur and a critic of men and of sex, outspoken in both her praise and criticism of her imaginary conquests and a good laugh into the bargain. To her male friends she made a point of becoming too scary to touch. Let’s face it what young man would risk it? If he tried and failed to get her into bed she would tell the world and the world would laugh and if he did succeed in bedding her, his performance would be broadcast to all and again the world might laugh. No better have her as a pal than take such a chance.