She smiled. ‘I like the sound of your family. A strange mix of posh and middle-class, if you don’t mind me saying so. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,’ she added. ‘It’s just a bit off-beat.’
‘That’s a pretty good description,’ he muttered darkly. ‘Posh ’n Trash, that’s us.’
‘Does it bother you?’
She was sharp, he had to give her that. Once, when he’d tried to conform to his father’s ambitions for him, it had bothered him a lot. Back then he’d been ashamed of his background. Then he grew up.
‘It’s not what people are that matters,’ he said, ‘but how they behave, what they do. I think I’ve proved that here, in this house. Anyway, let’s not talk about me. Let’s talk about you.’
He sat up, crossed his legs and smiled at her in a way which he hoped was roguish. It had the desired effect. Her eyes widened, filling with humour and promise.
‘Oh, no, let’s not,’ she said. ‘I’m really boring.’
‘That’s not the word I’d use to describe you.’
Leaning back on the palms of her hands, she stuck her chest out, deliberately he reckoned. She wore no bra under her sleeveless top, and his eyes followed the curves of her breasts and settled on her nipples, which showed through the fabric like a cherry on a cake. His lips parted slightly, then his eyes cut back to hers.
‘What, then?’ she taunted.
Man, she was something else.
‘Intelligent, self-reliant, interesting.’ He paused. ‘Secretive.’
‘Secretive?’ Her eyes went wide with surprise. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘It was the business with that folder. The way you closed it. There’s something in it you don’t want me to see.’
‘Anything else you want to say about me?’
The look she sent him was nothing short of sassy. ‘You’re sexy,’ he said.
Her mouth curved at that.
He couldn’t help it. She was like a siren, an urban Lorelei reeling him in like a fish on a hook. He leaned in, and before he knew it his hand cradled her neck in a firm hold, and his mouth was on hers.
Her reaction was a series of spasms which electrified him, turned him on like he’d never felt turned on before. He crushed her to him, and felt another shudder run through her which almost took his breath away. Sliding her hand up, she curled her fingers into his hair and, for one long, sweet moment, returned the kiss.
Then she pushed him away.
‘Don’t,’ she said in a thick voice and got up, pressing the folder to her chest like a shield.
Jason was still trying to control his baser instincts when he heard the kitchen door bang shut behind her.
Shit.
Chapter Ten
Heart racing, Helen ran upstairs and threw the folder on her bed. She could still feel Jason’s mouth on hers, still taste the intoxicating mix of sugary biscuits and something Just Him on her lips. She’d tried so hard not to, but what she’d both wanted and feared at the same time had actually happened. If she hadn’t stopped the kiss, how far would it have gone? To sex? Was that what he wanted? She didn’t just want that, she wanted …
Oh, hell, I don’t know, she thought. To be part of something special, maybe. Love. All the things she’d never had.
A tumble between the sheets wasn’t going to give her that, not long-term anyway. Guys like Jason might look at her, but when they discovered what a freak she was, she wouldn’t see them for dust.
She pushed the thought aside and focused on something else, something she’d just figured out. Jason had been as loath to be upfront with her as she was with him. It made her wonder what he had to hide.
Had he seen inside the folder? He’d certainly had the opportunity because she had no idea how long she’d been out. A couple of minutes maybe? Enough time for him to get the gist of the content and know more than he’d let on. Perhaps he’d only seen the top page.
For legal reasons her name wasn’t mentioned in the first few articles. She’d only been referred to as ‘Mimi Stephanov’s five-year-old daughter’. Fay wasn’t mentioned either, not to begin with. Jason had told her Fay had been to prison for murder, but he’d made it clear that Fay never offered him the specifics, and it wasn’t his place to ask.
The question was, how much had he seen and had he put two and two together about Helen?
She spent the evening poring over the newspaper clippings and taking notes, again finding it completely unreal to read about her mother’s murder strictly in reported terms, but being sentimental about it would get her nowhere.
The only useful information from the articles was that the investigation had been headed by a detective named Barry Wilcox, of Ealing Police, so he had to be her next move. Her head buzzed from overload as she half-stumbled to the bathroom to brush her teeth.