‘I might be surprised. And you might be, too.’ He gave her a crooked smile. ‘I’m told I can be quite charming when I’m not snapping people’s heads off.’ He held out his hand. ‘Truce?’
She put her small, soft hand in his. His almost swallowed it whole. ‘Truce.’
* * *
Lily spent the next fortnight working with Raoul in the gym and on parallel bar exercises. She kept things as conservative as she could because she was concerned he was doing too much already. She had caught him a couple of times doing extra sessions in the gym, and she had seen him in the pool each afternoon since his plaster had come off, although she hadn’t been brave enough to join him. It worried her that he was pushing himself beyond his body’s capabilities. She didn’t want to leave him worse off.
Leave him.
Those words made her uneasy every time she thought of them. She had to keep reminding herself that this was a job like any other. She wasn’t supposed to get attached in any way to a client. She was supposed to do what she could to help them regain their mobility and strength and then move on to the next person who needed her. She wasn’t supposed to daydream about their kisses or touches. She wasn’t supposed to hope they would kiss her again or touch her other than incidentally.
He had kept a polite distance after that night in the pool. He had dined with her only a handful of times, mostly preferring to eat in his study while he worked. But she had seen the way his gaze kept homing in on her mouth now and again when he was speaking to her. It was like an involuntary impulse he couldn’t control.
She wasn’t much better. Only that morning she had helped him stabilise on the parallel bars and had come too close to him. He had momentarily lost his balance and she had stepped in to support him. She felt his warm, minty breath on her face and her heart had given a kick inside her chest in case he closed the small distance and covered her mouth with his.
But he hadn’t.
His eyes had locked on hers for a heart-stopping moment. Her belly had flipped and then flopped. She had dropped her gaze to his mouth, instantly recalling how those firm lips and that searching, commanding tongue had wreaked such havoc with her own.
The seconds of silence had pulsed with sensual energy.
‘That was a close one.’ He gave her a wry smile as he rebalanced. ‘I was about to fall flat on my face.’
‘I wouldn’t have let that happen.’
He looked at her for another long moment. ‘Do you want to have dinner tonight?’
She arched a brow at him. ‘You mean you don’t have pressing paperwork or thousands of emails to see to?’
‘Dominique told me you’re lonely eating in the dining room all by yourself.’
‘I’m not lonely.’ Lily knew she had said it too quickly. It sounded far too defensive and prickly.
‘I’ll get Dominique to pack us a picnic.’
She blinked at him. ‘A picnic?’
‘You have something against picnics?’
‘No, of course not. I love picnics. It’s just I thought—’
‘Meet me down by the lake. There’s a glade on the western side. It’ll be sheltered there if the wind picks up.’
‘You don’t want me to push you down there?’
He gave her a look. ‘No.’
‘But how will you—?’
‘I have ways and means.’
* * *
The ways and means had four legs, a mane, a tail and looked terrifyingly skittish. Lily was waiting on a tartan blanket Dominique had packed along with the picnic when she saw Raoul coming towards her astride a glossy black stallion—she assumed it was the one she had seen him with before. He was leading another saddled horse on a rein and she recognised it as the gentle one called Mardi that Etienne had introduced her to that first day. Her heart gave a sudden lurch. What was he doing riding? How had he got on and what if he fell off? She sprang to her feet, almost tripping over the picnic basket as she did so. ‘Are you out of your mind?’
The stallion gave a snort and danced as if the ground beneath his hooves had suddenly turned to hot coals. Raoul kept his seat and soothed the horse in softly murmured French. The mare did nothing but look with considerable relish at the fresh baguette that was lying on the tablecloth. ‘I thought you liked horses.’
‘I do, but you’re not supposed to be riding!’