Free The Seduction Trap by Sara Wood Page A

Watching his father crawl for Estelle’s favours, become a willing slave and gradually discard Turaine, his inheritance, had been sickening. And it wouldn’t happen to him; he wasn’t that stupid.
    The shutters came down on his desire, willed by the immense strength of his mind to close off everything but the object of his pursuit. He intended to own the cottages by the end of the week, when the architect would come to present preliminary sketches for the village.
    Guy went back to the kitchen and made coffee, then wandered back to a lounger, shut his eyes and listened to the jays squabbling in the cherry tree. Nearly mine, he thought in satisfaction. The tree, the garden, the house ... All of Turaine would be under his care.
    He found himself tensing with an inner excitement which rolled around his body in an unstoppable wave as he reran his meetings with Tessa-she, dressed in her tight leathers and that provocative little top ... the achingly inviting tight globes of her buttocks ... her blind love for her parents and her self-deprecating humour... The throb came to his loins again, fiercer, hungrier than before.
    Irritably he castigated himself for letting his mind wander, and began to formulate some leading questions before she returned.
    ‘I have some questions,’ Tessa said briskly, as soon as she was within earshot of Guy’s relaxed figure. He opened his mouth and shut it again. ‘Fire away, he murmured unsteadily.
    Demure in a long cotton skirt and short-sleeved navy shirt cinched in at her hand-span waist, she proceeded to break off pieces of croissant and butter them with a flagrant disregard for cholesterol.
    ‘Why did you record my numberplate when we first met?’ she shot at him.
    ‘We have the French equivalent of a neighbourhood watch,’ he answered, making the unlikely claim without a second’s hesitation. ‘Strangers and their vehicles are noted as a precaution.’
    Tessa gave him a sceptical stare. She hardly looked like burglar material. ‘That’ll keep you all busy in the high season,’ she said tartly. ‘Standing on street corners and scribbling every time a coachload of tourists appears. You’ll have no time to do anything else.’
    ‘I know,’ he agreed, all innocence and concern. ‘We’ll have to get a different system or we’ll run out of notebooks, won’t we? Next question?’
    Wretched man, she thought. He didn’t give much away! How could she provoke him into an indiscretion? ‘I thought it seemed odd that you were taking photographs of the village,’ she said doggedly. ‘You own it. You can see it any time you like.’
    Guy swung his legs off the lounger and took his time coming to sit at the table.
    ‘Photographs?’ she prompted, wondering if he was playing for time.
    He slid into the chair opposite her, picked up two pairs of cherries and hung them over her ears before she could stop him. And then his amused, contemplative glance temporarily paralysed her hands, because it looked from the way he touched his lips with the tip of his tongue as if he was thinking of taking one of the cherries into his mouth. Right now.
    Something drastic happened to her breathing. She swallowed, imagining that lushly carved mouth brushing her ear, and in a panic she reached up with both hands at once and hurled the fruit into the bushes. I know your game! she thought angrily. ‘Photographs,’ she muttered again, managing to spill the word out on a harsh breath.
    ‘Yes,’ he replied idly. ‘I’m giving the village a makeover.’ He grinned at her startled expression. ‘I’ve been taking ‘before’ pictures to compare them with the ‘after’. I’m not planning anything too complicated just a face-lift and a bit of restyling. No jade-coloured glass in the windows or anything dramatic like that.’
    Despite herself, she smiled, quite disarmed by his answer, knowing that she and her contact lenses were being gently teased.
    Tessa tried to ignore the appeal of his perfect white