hinged so it could be lifted up to rearrange the rooms on the second floor-the bedrooms amazingly well-furnished, cupboards, chairs, dressing-tables with mirrors, even little patchwork quilts on the beds. The bathroom had a miniature china tub with iron claw feet, a washstand, a tiny china toilet.
All the windows and doors could be opened and shut. The ground floor was just as amazing. A central hallway held a staircase to the upper floor. A fully fitted-out dining room and kitchen were situated on one side of it, on the other an exquisitely furnished sitting room and behind it a utility room with laundry tubs.
Chloe was sitting on the floor, one finger stroking the silk brocade on a miniature sofa, when a loud tapping startled her out of her enthralment with the little masterpiece. Her head jerked around. Her heart kicked as her gaze met the dark brilliant eyes of Maximilian Hart looking straight at her through the multi-paned glass door. A hot flush zoomed into her cheeks as she scrambled to her feet, feeling hopelessly disarmed at being caught out doing something so childish.
She worked hard at regathering her composure as she crossed the living room and managed a rueful little smile when she opened the door. ‘I didn’t have a doll’s house when I was a little girl,’ she said, shrugging away her absorption in it.
‘Were you ever allowed to be a little girl, Chloe?’ he asked with a flash of sympathy.
She grimaced. ‘It wasn’t an ordinary life. My mother…’ Her voice trailed off, her mind instinctively shutting out thoughts of her mother.
‘Mine wasn’t ordinary, either,’ he said with a touch of black irony, then with a quizzical look, asked, ‘Do you have the sense of something very different in this children’s house?’
‘Yes. Yes, I do,’ she answered eagerly. ‘I love the feel of it, Max.’
He nodded, and there was something in his eyes-a recognition of all she had missed out on, perhaps an echo of his own lost boyhood. It tugged at her heart, making it flip into a faster beat. Then it was gone, replaced by an intensity of purpose, which left her floundering in an emotional morass.
‘May I come in?’
Embarrassment increased the floundering. She’d left him standing on the doorstep instead of inviting him in. ‘Of course. Please…’ She quickly stepped back, giving him plenty of room to enter, every nerve in her body quivering from the magnetic force field he brought with him.
‘Leave the door open,’ he instructed. ‘I just wanted a private word with you before introducing the bodyguard who’s waiting outside.’
‘Bodyguard!’ Shock galvanised her attention.
‘I’ve employed him to drive you to and fro from the set at Fox Studios, or anywhere else you wish to go. He’ll stay close to you while ever you’re away from this property, ensure you’re not harassed by anyone. It’s simply a safeguard, Chloe, nothing for you to worry about. You can dispense with his services later on, but I think to begin with, you’ll feel more secure having him around.’ He made an apologetic grimace. ‘Unfortunately, I have other calls on my time and can’t always be on hand to protect you.’
‘No. I wouldn’t expect it of you,’ she swiftly assured him, acutely conscious of the time he’d already spent on her.
‘I’d like you to accept the bodyguard, if only to make me feel I’ve covered every contingency for avoiding problems you might be faced with. I do hate failure,’ he said in a self-mocking tone.
Considering all he had done for her, Chloe felt it was impossible not to oblige him on this point, though she thought a bodyguard was excessive. ‘All right. If you really think it’s necessary,’ she said uncertainly.
‘I do.’
No uncertainty in his mind. He immediately walked back outside and beckoned to someone who must have been waiting at the foot of the stone steps. Chloe imagined some big, burly hunk of a man, like a bouncer at a nightclub. It was a relief to see almost a fatherly figure, conservatively dressed in a grey suit, his salt-and- pepper hair and the lines of experience on his face suggesting he was in his fifties. He was as tall as Max, broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, and Chloe had no doubt he had a strong enough physique to impose his will on others, but he didn’t look like a bully-boy, more a mature man who wore a confident air of authority and the muscle to impose it if needed.
Max performed the introductions. ‘Miss Chloe Rollins, Gerry Anderson.’
A strong hand briefly pressed the one she offered. ‘At your service, Miss Rollins. I’m Gerry to everyone so please feel free to use the name,’ he invited in a deep, pleasant voice.
‘Thank you. I hope I’m no real trouble to you,’ she said sincerely.
‘I’ll be taking care of any that comes your way, Miss Rollins,’ he assured her, taking a slim mobile telephone from his coat pocket. ‘I’ll be here six o’clock Monday morning to take you to work. If you want to go out anywhere before then, contact me with this and we’ll make arrangements.’ He showed her his stored contact number, then gave her the phone, satisfied she knew how to work it.
It was Saturday afternoon. She would probably be busy unpacking most of Sunday and there was plenty of food here to keep her going. ‘Thank you, but I won’t be going anywhere tomorrow,’ she said decisively.
‘Keep it with you. I’m on call anytime, day and night.’
‘Okay,’ she agreed.
‘Thank you, Gerry,’ Max said in dismissal.
The older man raised a hand in salute to both of them and made a prompt exit, leaving Chloe alone with Max again. The dark eyes bored into hers, as though tunnelling a path to her heart, which instantly started a nervous pounding.
‘Since you have a good feeling in this house, Chloe, I suggest you stay here until the current twelve episodes of the show have been completed. It will be easier for you, no disruptive tensions to interfere with your work, and I can house any guests I wish to invite in the mansion, so it will not present any problem to me.’
Two months living here…it was so seductive.
But two months in close proximity to him…
‘Think about it,’ he commanded in a soft, persuasive tone. ‘I just want you to know you’re welcome to stay.’
‘Thank you,’ she managed to say, hoping he couldn’t see her inner turmoil.
‘And please feel free to use the swimming pool at any time,’ he went on with a smile that put flutters in her stomach. ‘They’ve forecast a very hot day tomorrow.’
‘Thank you,’ she said again, and wondered if she sounded like a parrot mimicking words that really meant nothing.
‘Relax, Chloe.’ His eyes turned to a soothing chocolate velvet and he reached out and gently stroked her cheek. ‘Be happy here.’
It was the lightest feather touch, yet it left a hot tingling that Chloe felt for several minutes after he was gone. She didn’t accompany him to the door. He walked out himself while she stood in a mesmerised trance, her own hand automatically lifting to cover the highly sensitised cheek, whether to hold on to the feeling or make it go away, she didn’t know.
What she did know with utter certainty was that Maximilian Hart affected her as no other man had…deeply…and while it frightened her, it also excited her, as though he was opening doors she wanted to go through…with him.
CHAPTER FIVE
MAX occupied one of the sun-loungers under the eastern pergola, idly doing the Sudoku puzzles from one of the Sunday newspapers. From time to time he glanced to the far northern corner of the terrace, expecting Chloe to appear at the top of the flight of steps, coming to the pool for a swim. It was a hot morning, so hot that a storm would probably brew up this afternoon. The shade of the vines and the light breeze from the harbour made his waiting tolerable.
He’d done all the groundwork to achieve what he wanted. He was sure Chloe would accept his invitation to stay, just as he was sure of the sexual chemistry at work between them. Restraint had to be kept for a while. A delicate hand had to be played, no pushing too hard, too soon. Any sense of being dominated by him had to be avoided.
She’d had that with her mother and having made the break from Stephanie’s overbearing control, she would shy from falling into a similar situation. He had to make her feel whatever she did from now on was her own choice, but he’d be leading her to wanting him every step of the way-wanting him as much as he wanted her.
The strength of his desire surprised him. It wasn’t his usual style to get so involved with a woman. All his relationships in the past had revolved around having regular sex with women he liked-an urge he took pleasure in satisfying. He could have had it last night with Shannah. She’d invited him to even after he’d told her their affair was over-a final farewell in bed-yet he’d been totally disinterested in anything physical with her. She’d accepted his dry, goodbye kiss on the cheek with wry grace-still friends, despite his moving on.
Chloe had been on his mind. It had been difficult to even focus his attention on Shannah. Thoughts of what Chloe might be doing in the children’s house kept intruding, plans for how best to draw her into sharing his bed.
Her husband was history but Max didn’t feel right about storming her into an affair with him. She was too vulnerable right now. It would be like taking advantage of a wounded creature. He had to wait, but the mental force to keep his desire in check needed considerable bolstering when he looked up and saw her moving towards the pool.
She wore a simple turquoise maillot, cut high on the leg and with a low enough V-neckline to reveal the swell of her breasts. Every lovely feminine curve of her body was on display and he instantly felt a tightening in his groin. It took an act of will to relax again and simply watch her.
She was unaware of his presence. The glare of bright sunlight made him virtually invisible in the shade of the pergola. She dropped the towel she’d been carrying by the edge of the pool, removed her sandals and waded in via the steps, which ran its width at the shallow end. The water was solar-heated to a temperature that kept it refreshing without being chilly. She smiled her pleasure as she slowly lowered herself into it and made soft waves with her arms. Max found the dimples in her cheeks strangely endearing, childlike, and he smiled himself, feeling a wave of indulgence towards her.
She didn’t break into a swim. She pushed off from the steps and glided, rolling her body over and over, wallowing in the water, floating, her wet hair drifting around her like a golden halo. He could have remained watching her for much longer, enjoying her uninhibited pleasure, but when she started swimming, splashing, the noise made his own silence questionable. He rose from the lounger and moved to his end of the pool ready to greet her when she reached it.
‘Good morning.’
