Читать книгу Mistress by Mistake - Ким Лоренс, Kim Lawrence - Страница 8

EVE’S cheeks were tinged pink with exertion after ten minutes of furious pedalling. Serve Nick right if he thought his bike had been stolen. How many times had she told him to chain it up?

Actually, she was forced to acknowledge a definite sense of exhilaration at being the one behaving recklessly for once. It was really quite a liberating feeling, she decided thoughtfully as she ran her fingers through her short, fashionably tousled hair.

She propped Nick’s pride and joy against the gleaming paintwork of a big shiny four-wheel drive drawn up on the gravelled forecourt and walked purposefully up to the porticoed entrance. She regarded the pair of stone lions guarding the entrance defiantly.

The door was slightly ajar, and she experienced the first twinge of apprehension as she rang the bell. Her nerves were primed for the offensive, however, and all it took was a quick mental replay of her earlier departure through this very door and the generous lines of her mouth firmed into a line of steely determination and her shoulders squared.

She’d show Uncle Drew she wasn’t the sort of girl he could push around, the sort of girl who ran away meekly, the sort of girl who was reduced to inarticulate compliance by a set of bulging biceps and a few harsh words! She liked a joke as much as the next person, but she hadn’t found anything humorous in Theo and Nick’s appalling suggestions. Chemistry indeed!

‘Come on through!’ A disembodied voice instructed. 26

Startled, Eve looked over her shoulder, half expecting to find someone these words were directed at standing there.

‘Through here!’ Impatience this time, and also the distinctive touch of gravel she’d noticed before. A man who didn’t suffer fools gladly—or at all.

You heard what the man said, Evie. Don’t just stand there, girl. She hadn’t expected it to be quite this easy to get back into the Beck residence.

‘It’s the card table by the door. Can you do it in situ,or will you need to take it away? If that’s the case I need it back by Thursday at the latest.’

Somehow the top of his dark blond head managed to convey harassment. When his head finally lifted, this impression was reinforced. His hands were still immersed in a bucketful of soapy water as he spoke. ‘Well?’

‘You don’t recognise me, do you?’

‘Should I?’ he began impatiently, pushing aside a wing of fair hair that had flopped in his eyes. ‘You’re not the French polisher? Dear God!’ he breathed, his eyes widening in recognition. ‘It’s the femme fatale. Not looking very femme or fatale,’ he added unkindly, getting to his feet and rubbing his wet hands against the legs of his jeans.

Eyebrows raised, he let his curious glance run incredulously over her simple stripy top and sleeveless fleece jacket. The loose lines of her khaki pants blurred the outline of her long legs and the flat, practical boots were about as far removed from the strappy stilettos she’d worn earlier as was possible.

It was ironic, considering his initial assessment, that she could now easily be taken for a schoolgirl—and he knew for sure she wasn’t. She had a freshly scrubbed, wholesome quality that some men found attractive. Personally, he found the long-limbed athletic look attractive on racehorses rather than women.

Is this display of masculine bad manners meant to make me feel uncomfortable? Dream on, she thought scornfully. Lips pursed, she deliberately mimicked his action and let her eyes rather obviously wander critically over his body. She didn’t actually hold out much hope of finding anything to criticise—she was right.

He was wearing a light-coloured cotton shirt, not tucked into the waist of his jeans. His wet hands had left dark marks on the paler material which outlined thighs that Eve already knew were powerfully muscular. She noticed two wet marks where he’d been kneeling on the floor. He was the sort of man who looked good in any clothes, she reflected, but better without them. Just when her confidence was riding high this random thought sent a flurry of panic zinging along her nerve-endings.

To her surprise, when her flustered glance returned abruptly to his face, she found amused appreciation of her retaliatory action in his expression. A couple of deep breaths and she was able to dismiss her embarrassing observation as an aberration. Stress did things like play havoc with your concentration. She comforted herself with this widely accepted fact.

‘What do you want?’

‘You can ask that?’

‘Oh, you’ve come to apologise…sorry, I still don’t know your name.’

Apologise! Her eyes widened. The cheek of the man! ‘I was under the impression that you didn’t want to know my name.’

He didn’t pretend not to understand her. ‘Earlier I was trying to dispel—shall we say, any sense of intimacy.’

Not even a shred of embarrassment, she decided, searching his face. The man was totally shameless. Nick hadn’t gone into details—well, actually, honesty forced her to acknowledge she hadn’t exactly given him the chance—but this man must know by now she was innocent of sinister intentions towards his nephew.

‘Tell me, are you planning to use that?’

‘What…? Oh.’ She followed the direction of the inclination of his head and flushed deeply as she saw the trowel she was brandishing in her hand. ‘I didn’t realise…it was in my pocket,’ she mumbled in explanation.

‘Got anything else muddy and lethal I should know about in there?’ he asked, sounding insultingly amused as she shoved the tool back into the capacious pocket of her warm fleece.

‘Not muddy.’ She took exception to this slur; she was scrupulous about caring for the tools of her trade. ‘I’m a gardener—a landscape gardener—freelance.’ ‘Freelance’ sounded more impressive than ‘worried about where her next job was coming from’ besides, things weren’t really like that any more. Under the circumstances, she had no qualms about making her business sound a lot grander than it was.

After her parents had died she’d had to scale down her plans for the future appropriately. Starting her own garden maintenance business had been a far cry from the degree in landscape architecture she had planned, but what had started as little more than hedge-trimming and lawnmowing had gradually led to better things.

She knew the turning point had been the roof garden she’d created for Adam Sullivan the previous year. He’d been delighted with the results and generous with his praise. And Adam had a lot of upwardly mobile young friends who were keen to employ her services.

‘You sound very intense about it,’ Drew remarked.

The only evidence of the make-up she’d worn earlier was a slight dark smudging of soft grey kohl around her eyes. Lucky girl. Those eyelashes were a natural ebony that matched her hair. He could think of several women who would kill for those lashes. He took a step closer and noticed the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose that had been concealed behind a layer of foundation on their last meeting. She had that rarest of all complexions, a genuine peaches and cream one.

‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ she countered, suspecting condescension in his voice. ‘Aren’t you intense about your work? Is it only the financial wizards in banks who juggle millions who are allowed to take their work seriously?’ It was easy to be a big cheese when Daddy Cummings owned the bank, she thought scornfully. How well would he have done if he’d had to fight his way up the ladder?

‘My, my, Dan has been talking, hasn’t he?’ Drew mused, mentally adding another subject he needed to bring up with his nephew in the near future. ‘But point taken.’

‘I’ll tell you what I do take seriously, shall I, Mr Cummings?’

His only visible response to her aggressive tone of voice and scornful glare was a quirk of one well-defined brow. ‘Feel free, Miss…’ What had the boy called her? Just how much of his personal history had Daniel supplied to this young woman? he wondered grimly. He was a man who guarded his privacy zealously, and there were some episodes in his personal history he preferred stayed within the confines of the family.

Well, didn’t I make a big impression? He doesn’t even remember my name! ‘I take people assaulting my brother seriously.’

‘Assault! You’ve got to be kidding, lady! What the hell is your name anyway?’

Eve was pleased to see his air of vaguely amused condescension had vanished. He sounded extremely irritable.

‘Eve Gordon.’

‘Well, Eve Gordon, I didn’t lay a finger on your brother. But if I can’t get his blood out of my sister’s carpet I might just oblige you.’ He gave the bucket at his feet a frustrated kick, and some of the sudsy water splashed on his leather boots.

All he was bothered about was blood on his rotten carpet, when poor Nick might have been scarred for life or bled to death! ‘You should have left well alone and got it professionally cleaned.’

Drew, who had just come to this conclusion himself, gave her an unfriendly look. ‘I had enough trouble finding a French polisher who’d come straight out and repair the damage your young thug did to the table.’

‘I’ll tell him you were asking after his health. He’ll be so touched by the concern.’

Drew’s lips tightened at this dose of irony. ‘He looked fine when he left here.’

‘I doubt that very much,’ she snorted. ‘I don’t suppose it occurred to you to take him to the hospital. I call it the height of negligence to let an injured boy walk out of here in that state.’

‘He didn’t walk. A pretty girl picked him up.’

That sounded about right, she grudgingly conceded. Pretty girls were always picking Nick up. Eve suspected pretty girls would be running around after him most of his life. In that respect he probably had quite a lot in common with this man.

‘Sara,’ she said, not looking mollified by this information.

‘If you say so. She was the hysterical type too,’ he said dismissively.

‘Meaning she couldn’t look at the mess you’d made of Nick without displaying some emotion?’ She could hardly trust herself to speak at this display of callousness.

‘I thought I’d already told you I didn’t touch your brother. I was the victim of the assault. A fact you appear to be conveniently forgetting. What was I supposed to do? Stand there and let him batter my brains in?’

‘One look at you and a person can see straight off how savagely you’ve been battered,’ she observed scornfully, looking at his perfect profile with an expression of disgust.

‘Lightning reflexes,’ he agreed complacently. ‘But come back after my sister sees I’ve managed to let her house get trashed,’ he suggested drily. ‘And if she even suspects I’ve allowed her son’s morals to be tainted…’

He chose to ignore that Katie’s initial response when he’d offered to step into the breach had been to advise him to get a baby of his own if he wanted to play father, or to buy a dog. ‘I don’t want you practising on mine, Drew,’ she’d said frankly.

He still wasn’t entirely sure why he’d opted to spend his well-earned holiday here rather than join his friends on the ski-slopes. When Katie had put forward the ridiculous proposition that he was bored he’d laughed, but the more he considered it, the more he was inclined to believe there might well be more than a grain of truth in that accusation.

Eve was unaware that she was chewing her lower lip as she met his taunting look with a belligerently stubborn one of her own. Her blushes were held in check by sheer will-power. ‘Not by me.’ I probably couldn’t taint a moral if I tried, she pondered gloomily—and at twenty-three that was quite an indictment.

Drew shrugged, giving the distinct impression that the minutiae of the incident were of no interest to him. ‘Let’s just say it’ll take more than reflexes to save me then.’ He shook the excess moisture off his hands with an expression of distaste. ‘When I agreed to keep an eye on Dan I wasn’t expecting any of this.’

‘Perhaps,’ she muttered, ‘if you spent more time listening to Daniel and less time talking about yourself, this might have been avoided.’

‘Meaning?’

‘I’m sure Daniel makes a very good audience,’ she remarked, her eyes opened to their widest and most guileless. ‘He is very young and easily impressed. We get to hear all about your exploits—second hand, of course, but it brightens up our dull existence no end to hear how the other half live.’

The obvious way to remove that smug, provocative little smile was to… Drew caught himself up short, shocked at the crude, politically incorrect and worryingly tempting solution that had instantly occurred to him. Perhaps a bit of the barbarian lurks in us all, he thought, putting the kiss idea firmly out of his head. He didn’t go around kissing strange women—well, not this strange anyway!

‘You’d know all about bringing up a teenager, I suppose?’ It must be at least five minutes since she was one herself.

‘If that’s meant to be some sort of criticism of Nick…’ Eve began hotly. ‘I just won’t have it!’ she declared passionately. ‘I’m not saying his idea was a good one,’ she conceded reluctantly, ‘but his heart’s in the right place. He wouldn’t have tried to hit you if you hadn’t insulted me. I may not be a perfect parent-figure, but I’m proud of Nick, and I won’t have some…some male blond bimbo criticise him!’

Drew swallowed the male bimbo crack; he was too astonished at the idea of this woman—hell, she wasn’t much more than a girl herself—bringing up a teenager.

‘Are you trying to say you’re your brother’s keeper—in the legal sense?’ he asked incredulously.

Eve had come across this response before. There had been a lot of people who had thought that she was ruining her life taking on the responsibilities of a young boy when she was barely eighteen herself. A lot of people who’d urged her to let Social Services take the burden. Opposition had made her all the more determined to keep their family unit intact.

‘Until he’s eighteen,’ she confirmed, her whole stance saying, clearer than words, Want to make something of it? ‘Which is next week, as it happens—the same day as Daniel.’

‘No wonder you’re weird,’ he breathed, half to himself. ‘I’ve only been responsible for Dan for weeks, not years, and I’m already feeling ready for the funny farm.’

An unscrupulous tart and now I’m weird—charming! ‘It’s nice to meet someone who doesn’t mince his words,’ she observed insincerely. ‘As it happens I’ve found it an extremely rewarding experience watching Nick mature into a warm, caring young man.’ Her lovely mouth curved into a faintly disdainful bow as she selectively deleted all the low points—and there had been quite a few during the last five years. ‘A wise man knows his limitations, and there’s nothing wrong at all with being self-centred. I’m sure you’re extremely wise to avoid responsibilities.’

Neck extended, he allowed his head to roll back in a relaxed, sleepy way. Eve began to think her provocative words had been too subtle for the pea brain to take in—until she saw the steely expression in his half-closed eyes as he looked down at her. Maybe not that subtle, she conceded, swallowing hard—maybe not subtle enough, a small, cowardly voice suggested.

‘Wisdom.’ He considered the word slowly as it rolled thoughtfully off his tongue.

It gave Eve time to give his mouth a detailed examination. Unlike her own, it was perfectly proportioned. She came to the conclusion that there was something quite cruel about the thin upper lip, and there was a disturbing sensuality to the full lower curve. An unexpected tingle of excitement bubbled through her veins and her heart-rate picked up tempo in response. Stimulating? Exchanging in-sults with this man? Next thing she knew she’d be playing on the railway track. There wasn’t much to choose between the two pursuits.

‘Is that the same sort of wisdom you displayed when you decided to play the sultry temptress? A snogging session on the sofa with a schoolboy?’ He awaited her reply with an expression of rapt interest. ‘I suppose it’s possible,’ he prompted, ‘that you like ’em young. Some women do. Or were you living out your naughty fantasies? Then again I might be barking up the wrong tree completely. Do your tastes run in an entirely opposite direction?’ He looked thoughtfully at her sensible shoes.

Her cheeks went bright red as she caught the drift of his crude insinuations. ‘I was not…not…’

‘Snogging?’ he prompted her helpfully.

‘It’s not men I don’t like. Just you!’ The nostrils of her masterful little nose flared and she looked at him with loathing. ’As for kissing… I didn’t… I wouldn’t!’ she spluttered furiously.

‘I thought it was Dan who wouldn’t.’ The breath escaped from between her clenched teeth in a noisy gasp. His smile was a gentle pat on the head. ‘Probably afraid of being eaten alive. That was some outfit.’ And some body that had filled it out, he added mentally—though you’d never suspect it right now. Talk about camouflage! ‘Don’t take the rejection too much to heart. Your average adolescent would have leapt at the chance—and leapt at you too,’ he added thoughtfully.

‘Meaning a proper man would have had more sense?’

‘Sensitive nerve?’ he suggested with a maliciously sympathetic smile. ‘Sorry.’

‘You know where you can stick your apology!’ she hissed.

‘I can imagine,’ he responded hurriedly. ‘But don’t get anatomical, I beg you; I have a very delicate stomach.’

Delicate! she silently raged. Do me a favour—he’s about as sensitive as a brick!

‘Poor Dan has been going through hell at school,’ she told him passionately. She was too angry to notice the spasm of self-recrimination that tautened her opponent’s handsome features momentarily. ‘Kids can be incredibly cruel.’

Did she think he needed telling? he wondered. The fact the kid hadn’t told him bit deep—he hadn’t noticed any of the clues, and, in hindsight, those clues had been glaringly obvious. He’d been a miserable failure as a guardian.

‘Can’t you remember what it was like to be singled out as different?’ Eve’s dark eyes swept disparagingly over him, from the tip of his blond head to his expensively shod feet, and she realised she was looking at the boy everyone else had wanted to be, not a loner isolated by quirks of nature. ‘No, I don’t suppose you can. I was only trying to help.’

‘Save me from fool women with good intentions!’ She’d obviously approve of him more if he could produce evidence of childhood trauma. ‘Alas, I can’t wheel out a dys-functional family, even though I can see the fact my parents are kind, loving, well-balanced…and, yes, well-off individuals ruins my credibility in your eyes.’

‘They must be wondering where they went wrong with you.’

‘You really can’t stop with the cheap wisecracks, can you? Dear God, I wouldn’t give you custody of my cat, let alone a child! Didn’t it occur to you to tell me before you embarked on your crazy scheme?’

‘It wasn’t my…’ she began. She closed her mouth. She wasn’t about to lay the blame at her brother’s door. After all, she had been a co-conspirator and the allegedly responsible adult; she should have known better. It was having this awful man point out the fact—very unpleasantly—she couldn’t stand.

‘Dan made us swear not to. He didn’t want his fantastic Uncle Drew to think he was a wimp. Tell me, what does it feel like to be a role model?’

A dull red ran up under Drew’s perfect tan. Her smile of triumph faded and a soundless squeak escaped her lips as she realised with horror she was wondering how far that golden colour extended. She hadn’t seen any demarcation lines earlier.

‘So you decided you were better qualified to deal with this problem than, say, his parents, or guardian, or head-teacher? Isn’t there anyone who can put the brake on your wild ideas? What did your partner think of the scheme? Or didn’t you tell him? I take it he is a he?’

Eve knew in that second she’d die rather than admit her unattached state. Up until this point she hadn’t attached a stigma to her single state, but under the mocking glare of those hateful, knowing eyes things looked very different.

‘Very much so. Theo is very supportive of anything I do.’ It sounded so smooth she was quite impressed herself.

Please forgive me, Theo, she thought, hoping she didn’t look as guilty as she felt. He wouldn’t mind her using his name in a good cause, she told herself. Question was, would he think scoring points off Drew Cummings a good cause?

‘Meaning you walk all over him in your hobnailed boots.’ He lifted a supercilious eyebrow as he gazed at the footwear. ‘Poor guy.’

‘He doesn’t need your sympathy!’ She ground her even white teeth silently.

‘No, he needs therapy.’ He looked pointedly at her clenched fists and shook his head. ‘A family trait, I see. There was some point was there, to you barging in here, Miss Gordon?’

Good question, Eve. What are you doing here? Other than coming second in this battle of words, that is.

‘I did not barge in; I was invited.’ Pity Nick hadn’t landed him a punch, she thought wistfully.

‘I won’t make that mistake twice,’ he assured her.

‘I was hoping you’d display some remorse for causing Nick’s injuries and for treating me so appallingly. We all know your hands and feet are lethal weapons. You didn’t need to beat up on a teenager to prove it.’

‘Past tense, I see…you’ve decided my character’s as black as your hair, I suppose?’

On impulse he flicked the feathery end of one ebony curl that lay against her temple. There was a definite blue sheen to her hair when the weak winter light caught it. Against his fingers the texture was just as silky as it appeared. Eve leapt back as if he’d struck her.

‘Don’t touch me!’ she breathed, shaking her head to dispel the warm, muzzy sensation that filled her brain. The messages whizzing around in her head seemed to be having trouble connecting.

Drew Cummings held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Sounds like the best advice I’ve had all day.’ He didn’t go in for spontaneous physical contact with strangers, and he felt annoyed with himself for doing so now. ‘Tell me, do you always act like something out of a Victorian melodrama? It must get exhausting living with you.’

Eve chewed down hard on her full underlip, well aware that her instinctive response had been way over the top. ‘I think it’s perfectly legitimate for me to be nervous after you manhandled me earlier.’

‘I was as gentle as a lamb. Remarkably restrained, actually.’

‘Really?’ she said scornfully. She lifted both hands and let the sleeves of her thin top fall back. ‘Pardon my scepticism.’ The faint blue discoloration made by his fingertips showed clearly on the pale skin of her wrists.

His vivid blue eyes deepened abruptly to navy blue, and a deep line appeared between his brows. ‘I didn’t do that.’ His voice held an edge of revulsion.

The impact her display had made surprised Eve. She’d expected some slick, sarcastic retort. ‘No? Let your mind slip back a few hours. You were hauling me about like a sack of coal.’

‘God, I’m really sorry. I had no idea.’ He reached out and firmly took her hands. Eve searched his face curiously and saw only genuine concern. This wasn’t just a line he was shooting her, she realised. He really was sorry. ‘Dear God, you must be fragile. I can only say it was unintentional.’

Her slim build hid a wiry strength, not on a par with his, but nonetheless she was no delicate flower. Eve didn’t point this out. The constriction in her throat made it hard to point anything out.

This time she didn’t recoil. That strange slow motion thing was happening again, and she didn’t have the will or desire to fight it. She let herself go with the flow. Drew turned her arm slowly over and back again, examining the blue-veined inner aspect of her forearm. His own hands were nicely shaped—big, capable hands, with long, tapering fingers.

‘There’s no need to make a fuss about it,’ she began, trying to put some emphasis into her husky-sounding voice. She could see the fine lines which time would etch deeper radiating from the corners of his eyes. Letting her flickering, wary gaze dwell on the deep azure warmth of his eyes made her feel dizzy. On the whole she had felt a lot better when those eyes had been ice chips. A man holding your hand should have no effect whatsoever on the stability of your knees, she told herself sternly—it made no sense at all.

He’d had enough time to make a map of the area by now! The soft contact was incredibly abrasive to her vulnerable nerve-endings. Nobody would have guessed from the activity of her heart that she was in the peak of physical condition. This wayward organ was pumping at a rate of knots, and her breath was coming in short breathy gasps.

What did he think he was doing anyhow? Running fingers that had never seen an honest day’s work in their lives over her skin. Eve had had some very uncomfortable interviews with bankers in her time. More important, what was she doing letting him?

‘It’s nothing…I bruise easily. I only told you to make you feel guilty.’ She didn’t add that she hadn’t expected to succeed.

‘You smell…’ His voice was kind of distracted, and when he lifted his head from his prolonged contemplation of his handiwork she saw his blue eyes were still burning with a very worrying light. Eve thought it wise not to dwell too long on those hot, hungry eyes.

‘I’m sorry my personal hygiene doesn’t meet with your approval.’ She dredged around and from somewhere managed to find sarcasm.

‘Nice,’ he growled. ‘You smell nice. I don’t recognise the perfume.’ Without actually touching her he inclined his head to breathe in the fragrance of her hair. The sudden compulsion bothered him—annoyed him. And it showed in the downturn of his lips.

‘It’s soap. Probably the medicated one I bought for Nick’s acne,’ she elaborated prosaically. Flat-out panic felt like a heartbeat away. Had someone turned up the thermostat in the room? She couldn’t breathe properly.

‘Acne,’ Drew echoed flatly. His thumb had moved to the delicate hollow of one elbow; the circular motion sent a tingling down to her curling toes.

‘Teenage complaint from which you were no doubt immune.’ This person was invading her body space. She ought to be sending out some clear and unambiguous signals that read ‘Get off!’ loud and clear. Instead, what was she doing? Probably acting like every other female this man had ever touched—a compliant push-over.

‘It isn’t a subject that springs immediately to mind when I’m responding, albeit reluctantly, to a mutual chemical attraction.’

Not him too! Chemical…chemistry…they’d all gone stark staring bonkers. Her eyes narrowed. She hadn’t missed the ‘reluctant’ bit either. Aren’t I up to his usual standard? she wondered truculently.

‘I’d worry about the chemical reaction going on under your feet if I were you.’

He cursed with satisfying distress as he followed the direction of her gaze.

‘I told you, you should have got a professional cleaner,’ she reminded him cheerfully as she rubbed her toe against the newly bleached area underfoot. Things had got a bit silly, but she was in control again now, she decided with a relieved sigh.

He lifted his head and caught the tail-end of her surreptitious grin. ‘Maybe you won’t be laughing so much when I send you the bill?’

Eve hoped this was an empty threat, because her tight budget wasn’t up to surprises like that. ‘Does this mean you don’t love me after all?’ she pouted, giving a passable impression of a spurned lover. He was obviously one of those men who tried it on with any female that had a pulse, she thought with disgust.

Actually, she’d never been spurned; she’d done a bit of minor spurning herself—there had been that lovely Adam with the roof garden who’d wanted to get closer, and one or two others, but none had lit any answering spark in her.

Sparks! She glanced gloomily at her feet and had a sharp mental image of flames curling over the practical footwear she wore. ‘Sparks’ didn’t begin to cover the conflagration she’d been recklessly flirting with. It was all some nasty hormonal conspiracy; an example of the weakness of the flesh from which she’d learn a valuable lesson once she was safely home and away from this man. She might even be able to decide what the lesson was then.

‘It’s possible I might be able to give you up without aversion therapy.’

‘I’ll try to be stoical about it,’ she promised evenly. Didn’t aversion therapy involve repeated exposure to the thing you wanted to give up? Now there was a very unsettling thought!

‘I’ll always cherish our time together.’

Sarcastic pig! ‘How fortunate you are to possess a shallow and superficial nature,’ she said sunnily. She suddenly wished she was still wearing the feminine armoury of earlier. For some reason she felt it would have made it a lot easier to smile in the face of this masterly put-down if she’d known she looked feminine and…well…sexy. ‘For an awful moment I thought I might have to fight off your advances,’ she confessed.

His white even teeth clamped together in a snarl-like smile. ‘If those are the signals you send out when the options you’re considering are fight or flight you could have serious problems,’ he told her drily.

‘I hope you’re not suggesting I wanted you to kiss me!’ she yelled. The smug smile made her want to stamp her feet in childish frustration. ‘You’re delusional, and even more in love with yourself than I thought!’

Head on one side, he observed her pink cheeks and heaving bosom thoughtfully. ‘Are you trying to goad me into kissing you?’

Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly several times. ‘Are you…mad?’ she squeaked hoarsely.

‘I’m not going to kiss you into submission, you know,’ he informed her apologetically. ‘Don’t get me wrong—I can see the appeal. If only,’ he observed, half to himself, ‘to get you to shut up. You’re just not really my type.’

‘You’re pathetic,’ she grated incredulously. ‘Do you actually think that every female you meet fantasises about being swept up in your strong arms?’

‘This is what I was worried about,’ he said sadly. ‘You just want more than I can give. I wanted to save you this hurt and humiliation.’

Now she knew for sure he was winding her up, having a good laugh at her expense. He must have noticed she’d been shaking feverishly when he’d taken her hand. He obviously found the whole idea of her finding him attractive hilarious.

‘You’re very considerate.’ She’d had enough of being the live entertainment. It really went against the grain to retreat, but she could do it with dignity at least. ‘I’m going home now. I hope for Daniel’s sake his parents aren’t going to be away much longer.’

He smiled wryly. He’d instinctively known she was the sort of female who had to have the last word. Drew listened for the inevitable crash of the front door before he sat down in one of the luxuriously upholstered chairs. He couldn’t help wondering what it would have been like if he’d actually kissed that strident, volatile young woman.

The entrance of his nephew halted the erotic nature of his thoughts.

‘Have a seat, Dan. I think we need to talk.’

‘Again?’

‘Again. Now, just what exactly have you told Nick and his peculiar relations about me?’

‘Not much.’

‘And does that ‘‘not much’’ include the Lottie saga?’

‘No! I wouldn’t tell anyone about that, Uncle Drew.’