The Bride Of Santa Barbara. Angela Devine

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      When she arrived on the terrace she found that it was another glorious Californian day filled with bright sunlight and the sound of birdsong from the garden. Daniel was lounging at a table on the terrace reading a newspaper but he rose to his feet as she approached. Her expert eye took in the details of his clothing and noted that he was wearing beige designer trousers and a blue and beige Pierre Cardin shirt with Gucci shoes. She was also uncomfortably aware that she hadn’t underestimated his virile attraction the night before.

      ‘Sit down,’ he invited. ‘And help yourself to some food.’

      There was a vast array of dishes on the table. A frosted glass platter held wedges of luscious green honeydew melon, fresh pineapple, papaw and strawberries. Next to this was a hotplate from which came the enticing aroma of crispy bacon, grilled sausages and tomatoes. There was also a wicker basket full of mouthwatering Danish pastries, large jugs of orange and apple juice and a percolator of fresh coffee.

      To cover her embarrassment Beth helped herself to a plate of fruit salad and began to eat, darting Daniel nervous glances. But he seemed totally unaware of either her embarrassment or the possible cause of it.

      ‘So how did you get into fashion design?’ he asked, laying aside his newspaper.

      Beth was grateful for the neutral topic and began to babble rapidly.

      ‘Well, my mother worked in a factory as a machinist when I was a little girl,’ she said. ‘We weren’t very well off so she always had to make her own clothes at home. She brought home scraps of fabric from the factory and I used to help her. I really loved it. Sometimes the pieces of material were so small it needed a lot of ingenuity to put them together into a garment.’

      Daniel’s eyebrows rose.

      ‘That sounds like a rather deprived childhood,’ he remarked.

      ‘Don’t you dare say that!’ exclaimed Beth indignantly. ‘I may have been deprived of material things, but my mother is a really warm, affectionate person. I was never deprived of love and that’s the most important thing.’

      His lips twitched.

      ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ he said. ‘But you were quite poor, were you?’

      ‘Yes, we were. My father had an accident on a building site when I was seven years old and was crippled by it. He didn’t get much in compensation and my mother had three children and no real job training, so we couldn’t help being poor.’

      Her defiant tone bought a glint of amusement to Daniel’s dark eyes.

      ‘It’s not a crime,’ he murmured.

      ‘You’d think it was the way some people talk,’ retorted Beth. ‘Warren always—’

      She broke off, biting her lip.

      ‘Warren always what?’ asked Daniel.

      ‘Never mind.’

      He frowned and stroked his chin thoughtfully. But when he spoke again he said nothing about Warren.

      ‘All right, so you helped make clothes when you were a little kid. Then what?’

      ‘I did dressmaking at high school and won a scholarship to go to technical college. I spent three years there and in my final year I won the big prize for designing. It was a trip to London for the spring shows, which was wonderful. That was when I knew that I really wanted to be a fashion designer more than anything else in the world.’

      Daniel nodded.

      ‘I see. And how long ago was that?’ he asked.

      ‘Two years ago. When I came back I had to find a job, so I’ve been working in a big department store as a fashion buyer for the last two years and doing my designing at night.’

      ‘And where does Warren come into all this? asked Daniel.

      ‘He was in my fashion design course at technical college,’ replied Beth. ‘He dropped out in his last year, because he didn’t get his assignments finished on time. But it didn’t matter so much for him. His parents own a big chain of fashion stores and he was able to get a job right away.’

      Daniel drank some more coffee and gritted his teeth as if it were bitter. ‘Do you really intend to marry him?’

      Beth gave him a flustered look. What business was it of his?

      ‘I don’t know,’ she stammered warily. ‘I hope so.’

      ‘Are you sleeping with him?’ he asked.

      Her face flamed. ‘I don’t see that that’s any business of yours,’ she retorted.

      ‘It might be,’ he said cryptically. ‘Anyway, let’s just say I’m curious. Are you sleeping with him?’

      Beth was silent for a moment, too angry to speak, and then it occurred to her that perhaps this was the best way of fending Daniel off once and for all. After all, she didn’t want any more encounters like the one in the conservatory last night.

      ‘Yes, I am,’ she snapped.

      His face remained impassive.

      ‘I see. And what sort of business relationship do you have?’

      She set her lips stubbornly. But his eyes remained fixed on her so piercingly that she felt that he was looking right into her soul.

      ‘What difference does it make?’ she muttered at last.

      ‘I think I’m entitled to ask,’ he replied evenly. ‘Seeing that I’m backing you in this little venture to get your fashion collection together.’

      She ground her teeth, unable to deny the truth of that.

      ‘Well, we don’t have any kind of formal partnership at this stage,’ she admitted grudgingly. ‘And I did most of the designs and the sewing for the collection, but Warren did help me now and then.’

      ‘And whose name is it appearing under at the show?’ asked Daniel.

      ‘Both our names,’ muttered Beth.

      ‘Louder,’ prompted Daniel.

      ‘Both our names,’ shouted Beth.

      Daniel smiled unpleasantly. ‘I see, he said. ‘He takes advantage of you every which way he can, doesn’t he?’

      ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ asked Beth in a dangerous voice.

      Daniel gave a mirthless laugh.

      ‘That would be obvious to you, sweetheart,’ he said, ‘if you weren’t so wet behind the ears. The guy is obviously sleeping with you without any intention of ever marrying you. And he’s also using your talent and hard work to get himself ahead in business. If you had any brains at all, you’d give him the boot.’

      ‘Don’t talk about Warren like that!’ protested Beth indignantly.

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