His Delicious Revenge: The Price of Retribution / Count Valieri's Prisoner / The Highest Stakes of All. Sara Craven

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       CHAPTER FIVE

      SILENCE stretched between them, threatening to become endless as shock held her motionless. Speechless. Yet she had to do something…

      ‘You.’ Her mouth was dry. She hardly recognised her own voice. ‘What are you doing here?’

      His shrug was rueful. ‘I’d hoped to take you to dinner, but my flight was delayed, so my guess is you’ve already eaten.’

      He paused, the cool hazel gaze sweeping over her. His expression did not change, but Tarn’s instincts told her that he knew perfectly well that she was naked under the towelling robe. She had to resist an impulse to tighten her sash, and draw the lapels more closely to her throat.

      He added, ‘I seem to have called at an inopportune moment, so maybe a drink is out of the question too?’

      She made no immediate response and his brows rose with faint mockery. ‘Another loaded silence,’ he remarked. ‘I suppose I shall have to become accustomed to that.’

      She went on staring at him. ‘How did you find me?’

      ‘Quite easily. Your contact details including your address are all logged at the office—as you must know.’

      Of course she did, but she was playing for time, trying to pull her scattered wits together.

      She said slowly, ‘I’m not exactly geared up for going out. And we don’t keep much in the way of alcohol.’

      ‘I’d settle for coffee,’ he suggested. ‘I might even drink it here at the door, if you insist.’ He went on softly, ‘Although I promise I don’t pounce, or, at least, not without a serious invitation.’

      Her smile was brief and unwilling. ‘I think it would probably be better if you came in.’

      He followed her into the flat. ‘You looked as if you’d seen a ghost,’ he commented. ‘Surely you were expecting me to make contact?’

      ‘Not really.’ She hunched a shoulder. ‘Men often say things that they don’t mean, or that appear less enticing the next day.’

      ‘Then you must have been unlucky in your men friends.’

      As she walked ahead of him into the sitting room, the first thing she saw was Evie’s diary lying on the carpet by the sofa.

      Oh, God, she thought. Having been involved so closely with her, he’ll recognise that as soon as he sees it.

      She said with a kind of insane brightness, ‘It’s so untidy in here. I must apologise.’

      She moved quickly, gathering it up under the cover of the envelope that lay beside it, and pushing them both on to a shelf in the bookcase.

      Caz was glancing round. ‘This is a pleasant room.’

       Better than the place you found for Evie…

      Aloud she said, ‘Thank you. Won’t you sit down?’

      ‘I have been sitting,’ he said. ‘On a plane, and then in the car that picked me up at the airport. May I help with the coffee instead?’

      She hesitated, then led the way to the kitchen. It was a comfortable size, but tonight it felt cramped, as if by the simple action of turning from the sink to the worktop and from the worktop to a cupboard, she would brush against him.

      She was almost surprised to discover she’d managed to assemble the coffee beans, the grinder and the percolator without any physical contact with him whatsoever.

      Yet it was the mental awareness of him that she found so disturbing. The consciousness that he was leaning against the doorframe silently observing her flustered preparations.

      She said, holding up a bottle, ‘I’ve also found some brandy, but I think it’s what Della uses for cooking, so I can’t vouch for it.’

      He grinned. ‘No point being snobs in an emergency. Where do you keep your glasses?’

      ‘Top cupboard on your right.’

      As she spooned the freshly ground coffee into the percolator and added boiling water, the aroma filled the air, replacing the faint, expensive hint of musk that she’d detected from the cologne he wore.

      When she’d decided to let him in, it was with the fixed intention of provoking him into making a pass, and then reporting him to the police for sexual harassment.

      But wiser counsels had soon prevailed. The fact that she’d admitted him when she was alone and only wearing a bathrobe would do her case no good at all, she admitted silently. Besides, he’d said he wouldn’t pounce, so she would have to make all the running—another serious black mark against her.

      And the fact that this was Della’s flat, and her friend totally disapproved of what she was doing stopped her in her tracks, at least for tonight, and warned her to think of something else.

      ‘I’m hoping this might relax you,’ Caz remarked, handing her a rounded crystal glass. ‘You look like a kitten caught in headlights—as if you don’t know which way to run. Am I really so scary?’

      ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, of course not. It was just—such a surprise. Besides, I’m not really dressed for entertaining.’

      If she’d expected some leering riposte, she was disappointed.

      Caz frowned slightly. ‘I should have telephoned ahead. Warned you I was calling round, or maybe made a date for a more convenient time.’

      ‘Then why didn’t you?’

      ‘Considering the amount of twitch in the air, maybe I should reserve my reasons for another time too.’

      ‘I have a better idea,’ Tarn said. ‘Why don’t we just—start again.’ She held out her hand. ‘Good evening, Mr Brandon. What an unexpected pleasure.’

      ‘Change Mr Brandon to Caz,’ he said, the warm strong fingers closing round hers. ‘And it will become an unmitigated pleasure.’

       And I’m an unmitigated fool not to throw this brandy over you here and now and scream what you’ve done to your face—tell you what a bastard—what a love rat you are. Although you wouldn’t recognise or understand the word ‘love.’ And, anyway, you’d just shrug it off and walk away. Water off a duck’s back. But some day soon, you’ll be made to care…

      She allowed her long lashes to sweep down in demure concealment, in case he read the truth in her eyes. ‘Very well—Caz.’

      ‘A moment I might have missed if I’d called in advance,’ he said softly as he released her hand. He paused. ‘So where’s your flatmate this evening?’

      ‘At a hen party. Someone’s birthday.’

      ‘You СКАЧАТЬ