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For a moment, just a millisecond, Jed leaned into her, as if were considering pulling her into him, but then his sigh brushed over her cheek, and he pulled back and dropped her hand. ‘Okay, message received.’

A wave of regret rolled over her, both spiky and acidic. Why couldn’t she, just once, take what she wanted without overthinking everything? Without projecting?

‘I think you should go,’ Jed told her, pushing a hand through his hair. Was it shaking, just a little, or was that her imagination? ‘I know I offered you food, but if you stay, you’re going to be on the menu.’

Man, that was so tempting, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than to be loved by him.

Could she backtrack? What would he do if she put her hand on his chest, lifted her lips to his, and slid her tongue inside his wicked mouth?

Shoved her hand between the band of his shorts, undid the button…

‘Jesus, Eden, when you look at me like that…’ he muttered, every word coated with a layer of frustration and desperation. ‘I’m a man, not a goddamn saint!’

Lust retreated, just a little, enough to get the sparkplugs powering her brain working again. She couldn’t keep changing her mind; she wasn’t a kid.

Slipping her feet into her shoes, Eden picked up her phone and walked to his front door. Jed reached around her to open it, and Eden sighed. How she wished she could be spontaneous and live in the moment, to be brave. Not worry about the consequences.

She gestured to the kitchen, closed her eyes and pushed her fingers into her forehead. ‘I’m sorry about…’ Jeez. She swallowed. ‘I’m sorry.’

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. ‘Me too,’ he said. ‘I think we would’ve had some fun.’

His words were light, but his eyes held a load of regret and…

was that curiosity? He knew there was more to her no than she was saying.

She swallowed and tried to find a breezy, hopefully cool, way to say goodbye.

A bit difficult when she didn’t want to leave him, when she was oh-so-tired of being on her own.

When all she wanted to do was feel his big arms around her, his mouth on hers, and have him sliding into her and making her whole?

But present pleasure wasn’t worth future pain.

‘Have you decided whether to get involved in organising the charity polo match?’ he asked.

Her head whirled at his conversational one-eighty, as she’d been thinking about their hot-as-the-earth’s-core kiss the last time she’d stood here.

‘I am waiting for the first meeting and will decide after that,’ she told him.

‘I hope you do get involved because Mick will need the help, and you need something to do besides watching us practise.’

Jed made her sound like a K-pop fangirl. Not that there was anything wrong with fangirling, but she never thought she was the type to spend so much time watching a guy. On a horse. ‘Is me watching you train a problem?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re hell on my concentration,’ he told her, his voice rough. He looked up at the sky, shoulders hunched around his ears. ‘There’s no fun in being tempted by something that’s not on offer, Eden. So, please, for the love of God, find something to do.’

She wanted to protest and thought about arguing, but then realised she’d come across as being difficult and immature. She couldn’t drool over him and then bat him away. She wasn’t fifteen, for God’s sake.

Eden was about to walk away when Jed flashed her a dimmer-than-normal, but still knee-dissolving smile. ‘By the way, if you still want pizza, there’s a couple in the freezer in Di’s pantry. Defrost it slowly, then blast it on high.’

Later, when she was tucking into his pizza, she thought that if Jed made love as well as he made pizza, then she should say to hell with worrying about complications, confusion and the future, and jump him as soon as she possibly could.

* * *

What the hell was he doing at this meeting?

He had a polo team to captain and manage, ponies to train and gym sessions to attend. Yet here he was, sitting in an ex-church, now village hall, waiting for his sister to roll in so that they could finally start the inaugural meeting for the charity polo match.

Why did he think this was a good idea?

Jed shoved his hand into his hair and leaned back on the rickety chair, placing his ankle on his knee.

He was tired, pissed off and sexually frustrated, and the reason for his constant state of horniness sat directly opposite him, a pen and fresh notepad on the long steel table in front of her.

Until today, he’d never realised how sexy a white t-shirt and a denim skirt could be.

Why hadn’t she just said yes when he’d offered to take her to bed? Their chemistry was off the charts, and they would’ve enjoyed a week’s worth of good sex, had she agreed. Instead, he felt like a rabid beast was gnawing on his insides and his skin felt too tight for his body.

He couldn’t figure out why she’d said no, and why she was avoiding him.

Was it because he stated he didn’t want a relationship, that he was only interested in a fling at most?

She was in her late twenties, surely she didn’t expect sex to equal a relationship?

Was she turned off by his lack of commitment? Maybe.

And for the record, while he couldn’t commit to a woman, he was fully able to commit to everything else, his family, polo, his friendships, his carpentry projects. What was her problem?

Frustrated, he looked at his watch and decided he’d give Mick five more minutes and then he was done.

Thankfully, the heavy wooden door opened…

finally . Jed gritted his teeth as his half-brother strolled in, all polished confidence in navy chinos and an untucked shirt, his expensive watch peeking from under a silver and leather bracelet.

Jed, in contrast, knew he looked like hell, unshaven, dirt-streaked, his polo shirt sporting God knew what.

So far, Eden had yet to sneeze, and he was covered in horse dander and dust. Was her horse allergy improving?

He hoped so. He plucked his dirty shirt off his sticky chest. He still felt like the grubby peasant their father refused to acknowledge.

And it royally pissed him off.

‘The Duke of Dick,’ he said, on a snarl. ‘What are you doing here?’

Henry briefly closed his eyes, and then, straightening his shoulders, he walked into the room, eyes locked on his. ‘Jed. Can we please stop with the bullshit and have a beer?’

‘I’d rather be branded,’ Jed whipped back.

Paul, the owner of the Goat, the village pub, stood up and held out his hand for Henry to shake.

Paul invited Henry to take a seat at the trestle table opposite him, next to Eden, and Jed ground his teeth together.

A few people sat at the table, the lady from the pharmacy, the owner of the bookstore and another grey-haired lady with hair so stiff a category-five tornado wouldn’t dislodge it.

All their eyes bounced from his face to Henry’s and back again.

‘We’re so happy to have you here,’ Paul said, unaware of the undercurrents. ‘The late Duke didn’t show much interest in village affairs.’

‘I intend to change that,’ Henry replied smoothly, laying his arm across the back of Eden’s chair. Jed swallowed his growl. He was going to break his bloody fingers! ‘The village and the Hall have been intrinsically connected for centuries, and I want to foster that relationship.’

‘Bullshit!’ Jed muttered.

Henry pushed every one of his buttons at the same time. It didn’t help that everyone else seemed to like the guy. Even Mick beamed at him when she finally arrived, dropping into a chair, filching Eden’s notepad, and launching into full-throttle planning mode.

Thirty minutes in, the group looked shellshocked at her grasshopper ideas. Jed was about to call for a break when Henry– of all people– took charge. Within ten minutes, he had a clear vision and had assigned tasks, and annoyingly somehow everyone, including Mick, was letting him lead.

‘I think we got a lot accomplished,’ Henry said, looking around pleased.

And all of it within a short time. Jed didn’t want to be impressed but was. Damn, he needed a beer. Or better still, a whisky.

Eden lifted her head and raised a hesitant hand. The smile Henry directed at her was too warm, far too flirty. Jed clenched his fist when Henry half-turned to face her, his expression suggesting she was about to explain the mysteries of the universe.

The man had skills. And if he used any more of them on Eden, he might lose his shit. ‘Would you like to say something, Eden?’ Henry asked.

‘Um… just that you don’t know what you’re raising money for. People won’t donate just for the hell of it.’

Mick propped her chin on her hand. ‘We could split it between the RSPCA, the British Heart Foundation and the Bancroft Foundation,’ she suggested.

Eden flinched. She clearly didn’t like that suggestion… at all.

‘Would you consider another option?’ she carefully asked.

Everyone nodded.

‘There’s a collective of single mums in Southend who run a house for kids in emergency foster care. They’ve lost their funding. Without help, they’ll have to shut down or drastically cut back. It’s called Hope Harbour.’

Silence.

Jed’s gaze locked on Eden, noting the way she gripped her pen, the tension in her shoulders. This was personal and he wanted to know more.

Everyone was silent for a moment, taking in the horror of kids who’d experienced too much, too young. Jed wanted to know how Eden knew of this collective. He opened his mouth to ask, but Henry jumped in first. ‘I’m happy to consider them. I like the idea of helping kids.’

‘I’d also like to know more about Hope Harbour,’ Paul said, looking at Eden. ‘Can you get us some more information on the organisation, Eden? And if it checks out, I’d like to propose that the funds we raise be donated to them.’