Passionate Protectors?. Maggie Cox

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      Although she was answering the housekeeper’s question at the time, Matt noticed the way Sara-Victoria’s eyes darted to his face when he appeared. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a definite trace of trepidation in her gaze, and he wondered if she’d realised that her disappearance might have warranted media attention.

      ‘Good morning,’ he said, deliberately adopting an upbeat tone, and he saw the relieved hint of colour that entered her pale cheeks at his words.

      She was wearing her own clothes again this morning, and Matt’s eyes were irresistibly drawn to the taut breasts pushing at the semi-transparent fabric of her dress. Its shades of blue and green matched the luminescence of her eyes, which he was aware were watching him with wary intensity. Slim arms were wrapped protectively about her midriff, and he wondered if she realised what a giveaway that was.

      ‘Um—good morning,’ she responded at last, and Matt despised the sudden surge of blood that her husky voice caused to rush to his groin. All of a sudden he was remembering the sexual fantasies he’d been having about her earlier, and even the fact that he now knew she was another man’s wife didn’t make them any the easier to dismiss.

      ‘Sit here, Daddy.’

      Rosie pulled him to the seat beside hers, and Matt strove to act naturally. Hell, he thought, he was behaving as if he’d never been with a woman before. What was there about Victoria Bradbury that struck such a chord in his subconscious? What was there about her wary face that inspired thoughts of naked bodies and sweat-soaked sheets?

      ‘Did you sleep well?’ he asked at length, realising that, however much he might want to, he couldn’t broach the subject of her identity while Rosie and Mrs Webb were present. In fact, he wouldn’t be able to speak to her at all until Rosie had been delivered to school, and that might prove something of a problem. After all, he’d promised his daughter to discuss the subject of Sara’s employment at breakfast.

      ‘Very well,’ she replied politely, evidently taking her cue from him, though he doubted she was being entirely honest. Although she’d done her best to disguise them, there were still dark rings around her eyes, and, knowing what he knew now, he wasn’t really surprised. ‘It’s so peaceful here.’

      ‘Sara likes the seaside, Daddy,’ put in Rosie eagerly, evidently hoping to prompt him into saying something positive, but it was Mrs Webb who spoke next.

      ‘You’re not from around here, are you, Miss Victor?’ she observed, setting a bowl of cornflakes in front of Rosie. ‘If I’m not mistaken, that’s a southern accent.’

      Matt saw the way the younger woman stiffened at these words, but she managed to produce a tight smile. ‘I—yes. You’re right. I’m from London,’ she admitted, with obvious reluctance. Then, changing the subject, ‘Just toast for me, please.’

      ‘Are you sure?’

      Mrs Webb was persistent and, taking pity on his guest, Matt intervened. ‘I think we’re all set here,’ he said, regarding his own plate of bacon and eggs without enthusiasm. ‘If we need anything else I’ll come and find you. Okay?’

      ‘Well—if you say so.’ Mrs Webb wasn’t giving up without a struggle. ‘Couldn’t I tempt you with an omelette, Miss Victor?’

      Matt felt Sara’s eyes dart to his again, and he guessed she was remembering the lunch he had made her the previous day. ‘Toast is fine,’ she insisted, and the housekeeper had to accept defeat.

      ‘I’ll leave you, then,’ she said, giving Matt a speaking look. ‘Remember, Rosie’s got to leave for school in less than twenty minutes.’

      ‘I haven’t forgotten,’ said Matt drily. ‘Thank you.’

      Mrs Webb pursed her lips and left the room, and as soon as the door had banged behind her Rosie made a face. ‘She’s cross because Daddy didn’t ask her to sit with us and have her coffee,’ she confided, with a giggle. ‘We usually have breakfast in the kitchen, you see.’

      ‘Oh.’

      Sara looked to Matt for confirmation and he sighed. ‘She does like to share all the village gossip,’ he agreed, wishing Rosie wasn’t quite so candid. He pushed the toast rack towards Sara. ‘Help yourself.’

      ‘Thanks.’

      She took a slice of toast and spread it thinly with butter, but once again Matt noticed that she barely touched it. At this rate she’d be just skin and bone in no time, he mused unwillingly. But it wasn’t his concern. If she’d lost her appetite, it was doubtless because she was terrified he was going to find out what a liar she was. But why was she lying? Why had she run away? What the hell was she playing at?

      ‘You don’t have to leave today, do you, Sara?’ Rosie asked now, nudging her father’s ankle with her foot. And, although he gave her a warning look, she went on bravely, ‘Sara could stay—’ she faltered ‘—stay until tomorrow, couldn’t she?’

      ‘I don’t think so,’ Sara began, and although Matt was tempted to let her leave and be done with it, he saw his daughter’s face and relented.

      ‘Yes, stay,’ he said flatly, deciding that she deserved the chance to explain why she’d been lying. And this way he could ensure that she’d still be here when he got back from taking Rosie to school. ‘At least until tomorrow.’

      He could see her indecision. She was probably weighing the advantages of staying here, where she believed no one knew who she was, against moving on and risking inevitable exposure. He was also aware that his own feelings were just as ambivalent. Dammit, he didn’t owe her a thing, he told himself savagely. Yet he couldn’t deny he felt sorry for her.

      And how sensible was that?

      Chapter Six

      SARA went back to her room after Matt had left to take Rosie to school. She wanted to avoid giving Mrs Webb the chance to ask any more questions. She was unpleasantly surprised to find that the bed she’d slept in had already been made.

      Which meant the housekeeper must have accomplished this task while they were downstairs having breakfast. She didn’t for one minute think that Matt would have made her bed, and she wondered uneasily what the woman had thought of the fact that she didn’t have any luggage.

      For she had no doubt that Mrs Webb would have noticed. She might not have actually interfered with any of her belongings, but in the course of her work she was bound to have opened the bathroom door and seen that there was no toothbrush on the shelf.

      Closing the door behind her, Sara leaned heavily back against the panels. Why had she agreed to stay on for another day? Why, when she’d realised what a gossip Mrs Webb was, hadn’t she made her excuses and left? Because her car was still not fixed, she reminded herself impatiently. Perhaps she should contact the rental agency, which was a countrywide operation after all, and ask them to supply her with a new car?

      But, no. That would be foolish, she realised at once. At the moment all anyone knew was that she’d left the apartment. She’d deliberately not taken her own car because registration plates were so easy to trace. In time they might get around to checking with the rental agencies, but by then she intended СКАЧАТЬ