The Scent of His Woman (2 page)

So, it had ended, her one adventure, her first (and last she had vowed) sojourn into
the world of casual sex. At least she had thought it was over and done with, until she had
sat here in this room and watched Geth, if that was his real name, take his place in the
ranks of the opposition. Who was he? Had he spotted her? To answer those questions she
shook off her reverie and started to pay attention to what was going on in the room.
By now the room was reverberating with the sound of raised voices and it took
Lexie a few seconds to even begin to make any sense of it. Some of the protestors were
on their feet shouting, while the deputation in front of them looked rather smug. As the row
continued to escalate the security guards and the press reporters with their attendant
photographers moved in closer. Try as she might Lexie could not make out what had
caused the uproar, so she turned to the young man sitting in the seat next to her.
‘What’s happening, why is everyone so angry?’
‘Have you been sleeping or something?’ He asked with a snort, ‘it’s a done deal.
GLM claim that have finished their round of consulting and work will begin immediately.
Then to cap it all high and mighty Gethyn Mathias there announced that to keep to health
and safety guidelines his company has bought up the land each side of the proposed
development too and the whole area has been secured today. You know what that means,
someone must have told them that we would all be here today, that they could move onto
the land without a fight.’
Lexie felt faint and sick, as the awful truth dawned on her. He was “Gethyn
Mathias”, everyone had heard of him, though she had never seen a good photograph of
him, she didn’t buy papers local or otherwise, much preferring to read a good book. He
was a self made millionaire, from a respectable Welsh farming family. The Welsh press
liked to hold him up as a role model for a modern Wales, but he was a bit of a playboy.
Often in the news with a leggy blonde on his arm as often as not. It was of course, always
given an indulgent treatment, if mentioned at all in the papers. No way was Wales’ “golden
boy” going to get any real criticism. How unpatriotic would that be?
Memories came flooding back and this time she understood all too well what they
meant. The way he had targeted her so purposefully, the way he had plied her with wine,
the way she had chatted so guilelessly about everything under the sun and he had
listened so intently. She tried desperately to recall what she had talked about, but the
memories were hazy, blurred by red wine and by the scalding memories of what had
followed. She’d spoken about the protest, she remembered doing that, but couldn’t
remember the details. There was no doubt in her mind though, that it had been her that
had let him know it would be safe to move in and secure the site. That all the protestors
would be facing him in London on this day and there would be no-one left behind to fight
back. How else would he have found out? There was also no doubt now in her mind that
he had got exactly what he set out to get and that a night of casual sex had been just the
icing on the cake to him. Oh what a fool she had been, what an unmitigated idiot. Tears
flooded her eyes and all she could think of was to get out, nothing else mattered. The
meeting was at an end anyhow, with the deputation from GLM filing out smugly, while the
protestors milled around still shouting, held back by the tight security. So she grabbed her
wrap and blindly headed for the door, pushing frantically through the crowd until she burst
out into the sunshine of the wide London street.
She was disorientated, not sure how to get back to the minibus. Left, yes that was
it, they had walked up from that direction, so she set off down the road, not quite knowing
what she was going to do next, just needing to get away. As she walked she began to calm
down. No-one could know it was her, he certainly wouldn't say anything she was fairly
certain of that. He’d got what he wanted and all it would cause was a scandal he could do
without. So there was nothing to worry about was there. All that was spoilt was her
memory of that night, the memory that she had decided she would hold secret, close to
her heart. Well she’d done without that before and could do so again, she thought
defiantly, rallying a little. The protest would be ok too, she was sure there would even now
be plans hatching to turn the tables on the developers. She would do all she could to help,
no more half heartedness, it was the least she could do.
Feeling better she looked around hoping to get her bearings and find the minibus,
but soon it dawned on her that she was not anywhere near the right place. Then she
stopped dead in her tracks, oh my, where was her bag? Back in the meeting room that
was where, where she’d left it pushed under a chair. In her haste to escape she had
completely forgotten it. Turning on her heels she started back the way she had come, fairly
running in her haste. If she could not find the minibus or retrieve her bag she was in real
trouble, stuck in the metropolis without a penny, a credit card or a friend. Goodness what a
mess!
Chapter 2
Gethyn Lloyd Mathias led the GLM deputation out of the conference room with a smile.
Having successfully turned the tables against the vociferous protest group, he felt entitled
to feel just a bit smug. Not that he hadn’t dealt with worse than these in his time, it was
par-for-the-course where most new developments were concerned these days. No, what
made this victory that little bit sweeter was getting the upper hand with “rent-a-mob”, a self
styled crowd who made a profession of jumping in on protests that had nothing to do with
them. Experience had taught him that more often than not, thinking they knew it all, they
went full steam ahead without finding out what the local residents really wanted. So he had
made a few discreet enquiries about this particular protest and found out that local opinion
was split where the proposed development was concerned. Some were indeed opposed to
yet another business park near their pretty village, but there were plenty that could see the
potential for the jobs it could bring to the area. After that it had been simple enough to
arrange to get the protest group to agree to a meeting in the London office, and then to
find a local councilor willing to pass on the information he needed about what kind of
defenses they were planning to put in place at the development site on that day. He had
laughed out loud when he had found out there would be no-one left in charge, all he had to
do was get the site and the newly acquired land each side of it secured while the meeting
kept the protestors occupied. Then there would be nothing stopping the work from going
ahead as planned. In return for the information, he had agreed to meet with the local
community council to thrash out what the villagers really wanted and needed from the
developers, after all it was their village. Yes indeed, things were progressing nicely, which
was more than could be said for the business with her, with Ms Alexandria Owen.
He reached his office with his entourage still in tow, they were elated and expected
to hear his next command. Geth however dismissed them all except for Owain his security
chief, before passing through the big oak door into his office. He crossed the room,
rounded the desk and relaxed into his seat. looking across at the younger man, thinking
carefully before he spoke.
‘You saw her?’
It was more a statement than a question and there was no doubt who was being
discussed here. Owain had received instructions from his employer to make some discreet
enquiries about the lady in question less than a month ago. It had not been difficult to track
her down, even though he’d only been given her first name and the name of the village
where she lived. Luckily it was a small village and the locals were friendly, so there was
now a neat file with as much information as he’d been able to find on her, sitting on the
boss’ desk.
Miss (but she preferred Ms) Alexandria Owen was thirty four years old. She lived in
a little studio apartment above her shop, overlooking the patch of grass that passed for a
village green in LLan-aberth, which was a pretty enough place some twenty miles north of
Cardiff. The usual cluster of houses around a small church, a pub and a few dusty shops,
the village was fairly typical. It was not difficult to get the locals to talk to him either, they
were a friendly enough bunch. He’d found out that she ran a little shop, and recently she
had been joined in that little enterprise by her sister. They specialized in selling herbal
cosmetic products she made herself from ingredients she grew in her allotment or bought
locally. He’d wandered in one afternoon and found it to be a tiny fragrant place, full of the
scents of summer. As well as the array of pots and bottles containing her home made
concoctions, there were tubs of fresh creamy goo on the counter and bunched of fresh
and dried herbs and flowers hung from the ceiling beams. He’d beat a hasty retreat, the
overwhelming, sweet smelling femininity of the place made him feel uneasy.
A little more digging had revealed that she didn’t own the shop and apartment, but rented
the property from a local landowner. She had two sisters who visited often and, the general
consensus seemed to be that though she was a little eccentric and outspoken she was
also funny and likable and she had fitted in well enough. Apart from the fact that she had,
during her college days earned a reputation for being a bit of a ‘green activist’ by attending
a number of meetings and rallies and that she owned a comical bright green 2CV, he had
been unable to dig up much more information on Ms Alexandria Owen and more to the
point was at a loss as to why he’d been asked to investigate her at all. He’d found nothing
to suggest there was a business reason for digging into her private life so that could only
mean Geth had a personal interest in her.
At the time he’d put it down to some strange aberration on the boss’ part, his usual
tastes ran to leggy supermodels, but he never made any effort to learn much about them
and never let them interfere with business. This time it was different, Geth reaction to her
presence in the room, had been visible. For a moment just as his eyes had fallen on her
diminutive figure sitting low in the back row seats, the great Gethyn Mathias had hesitated,
frozen to the spot for a fraction of a second. Oh, he had pulled himself back to reality
without anyone but his security man noticing, but it had happened, unthinkable and now
here she was again in the forefront of his employer’s thoughts. So answering the taut
question Owain answered.
‘Yes boss, dark green top, sitting in the back row.’
‘Find her, bring her back here, I don’t know what excuse you need to use, just do it
and do it yourself, I don’t want anyone else involved.
Geth watched his chief of security give him an inscrutable look as he turned on his
heel to obey the command. He shrugged it off, what if Owain read something into it? The
young Welshman was loyal, discreet and efficient, that was all that mattered. He would
find her and bring her back, and then she would find out that she made a mistake when
she walked out on him. He could hardly believe his own reaction, the way he could not
forget her, she was not far from his thoughts day and night, especially at night. When his
body remembered hers and kept him from sleep with its aching need, but his mind seethed
at her recalcitrant flight. He remembered her angry words, but that still didn’t explain why
she’d sneaked out of his bed, leaving him with the unpleasant realisation that for the first
time in his life Gethyn Mathias had been unceremoniously dumped!
The memory of the first time he’d set eyes on her nearly a week ago, was burned
into his brain. It had been a long day, he remembered, out on site working side by side
with his construction managers planning the first exciting phase of this new development.
He loved that time just after planning was granted, when he could get back to the nitty
gritty of what he loved to do. Managing the project would soon consume every minute of
his time but he always made time to indulge right at the beginning, it kept him sane,
working in the heat and the dust with the boys, and drinking with them afterwards of
course. They had fairly mobbed the little pub he remembered, filling it to its low rafters with
diesel fumes, dust and testosterone. The team’s attention had been taken with the pretty
barmaid, but he had been entranced by a pair of incredible violet eyes across the bar and
things had not been the same since.
Those eyes slanted almost orientally in a little pixie face, her straight little nose was
dusted with tiny golden freckles and her face was framed by a mass of copper curls. It was
this henna colour, as much as her obviously ethnic, slightly hippie garb that alerted him to
the fact that she was part of the protest group. Not that it made any difference, he was lost
the moment she flashed those lovely eyes at him, and lost was not a comfortable feeling
for the boss of GLM Construction, not a comfortable feeling at all. Then when he’d leant
over to take her lip-gloss he’d been enveloped in the scent of her, something clean, fresh
and spiced that elicited an almost primeval reaction in him.
He’d let her know he was interested and been encouraged to find she returned that
interest. Though obviously nervous, she had waited for him to approach her outside, had
allowed him to lead her to the vehicle and take her for a meal. That was when she had
begun to thaw, chatting delightfully and then afterwards responding to him with easy
passion. She was still responding when in his Cardiff apartment he had undressed her, the
thought of her naked body made his react even now. Tiny, she was perfect, the colourful
but shapeless garments he’d removed had revealed nothing less than perfection. Pale,
creamy, silky smooth skin, with a delightful sprinkling of golden freckles trailing across her
shoulders, long slender legs, and a tiny waist made to look even tinier by the curves of her
lovely hips and breasts. He remembered the mild surprise of seeing the cluster of copper
coloured curls that almost glowed at the apex of her thighs, so the hair was not hippie
henna coloured as he’d assumed, and that was not the only wrong assumption he’d made
that night he remembered ruefully.