Kissed By a Stranger. Valerie Parv

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СКАЧАТЬ to tell if your friends like you for yourself or your celebrity, then tell me how enjoyable you find it. I have to go. Nice seeing you again, Sarah.’

      A knife-life sensation stabbed through her. He was about to walk out of her life as swiftly as he’d entered it, and every fibre of her being shrieked a protest. Without thinking, she said, ‘Don’t go, please. At least not like this.’

      ‘Believe me, Sarah, it’s better if I do.’

      ‘Better for whom—you?’

      It was said so bitterly that a flame ignited behind his dark eyes. He raked a hand through his hair and the silver streaks glinted in the sunlight before he smoothed them down again. ‘I’m thinking of you, Sarah, not myself. You’re correct; you do have a right to enjoy your hard-earned fame. My opinion on the subject shouldn’t influence you.’

      She managed a shaky laugh. ‘I think we just had our first fight.’

      After a moment’s pause, he laughed too. The sound was unexpectedly warm, diffusing some of the tension radiating out of him. ‘It probably means we’re engaged,’ he said.

      A strange thrill shot through her, setting thousands of nerve-endings on fire. It took every bit of self-control she possessed to match his jocular tone. ‘Let’s see, we’ve kissed—in the line of duty, of course—we’ve shared coffee, and now we’ve had a minor disagreement. These days that practically constitutes a relationship.’

      He regarded her gravely. ‘I can hardly walk out on such a long-standing relationship, can I? Have you had lunch yet?’

      She glanced at her watch. It was well past noon. ‘I’ll have to do something about it soon. I’m due at the studio at two.’

      ‘Your show isn’t on air until tonight,’ he said.

      ‘But there are promos—promotional commercials—to be recorded, stories to edit and scripts to write,’ she pointed out, adding with a sigh, ‘You aren’t the first person to think that just because the show lasts an hour I work only an hour a day.’

      ‘I’ve had enough contact with the media not to make that mistake,’ he assured her. ‘But I thought Richard Nero was tonight’s presenter. I gather you take turns.’

      It thrilled her much more than it should have to think he kept up to date on her career. It was common enough knowledge, and probably meant nothing, but for some reason the discovery pleased her. ‘Tonight’s show is part of a charity fund-raising telethon, so we’re doing it together for once,’ she explained.

      ‘You don’t relish the experience?’

      She looked away. ‘I can’t stand the man. He wants the job of permanent anchor and will do anything to get it.’

      ‘And you?’

      She felt herself flushing. Surely he didn’t think she was as ruthlessly ambitious as Richard Nero? ‘I want it,’ she admitted frankly. ‘But I’d rather win it on merit than play corporate politics to achieve it.’

      ‘You don’t think Nero has merit?’

      ‘Of course he does. But ethics should play a part in getting stories.’

      ‘Then it’s just as well it was you and not Richard Nero I pulled out of the car,’ Luke observed.

      She couldn’t help smiling. ‘Would you have given the kiss of life to Richard so readily?’

      His assessing gaze lingered on her face. ‘Let’s say it wouldn’t have been so . . . pleasurable.’ There was a wealth of meaning in the way he said the word. He knew, she thought as warmth pervaded her limbs. He knew exactly his effect on her from the moment his mouth had touched hers.

      She felt the blood scorch her face and wished for a concealing layer of television make-up. As it was, she wore almost none when she wasn’t working, so her discomfiture blazed like a beacon for him to see.

      ‘Sarah?’ he queried softly.

      ‘I . . . uh . . . let’s have lunch,’ she said, taking refuge behind the café’s menu. For a small beachfront establishment, it boasted an amazingly large menu—for which she was grateful as she hid behind it.

      From her hiding place she heard the throaty growl of his laughter. The wretched man was mocking her. She lowered the menu, her eyes flashing fury at him. ‘What’s so funny?’

      ‘You,’ he said pointedly. ‘The case-hardened TV reporter can still blush. It’s quite a contrast.’

      ‘I’m not blushing,’ she denied fiercely. ‘It’s the sun. It’s...’

      ‘The sun,’ he echoed flatly. ‘Not the thought of me holding you, kissing you, breathing into that delectable mouth of yours.’

      ‘Stop it,’ she hissed, looking around to be sure no one could hear him. It would be all over the local newspapers next day. Luckily there was no one close enough to eavesdrop. ‘If you recall, I did you a favour, helping you conceal your identity from the cameras. I could have screamed the place down, you know.’

      He steepled his hands on the table in front of him. ‘Why didn’t you scream?’

      She shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘Yes, you do. You enjoyed it. Both times. And now you’re wondering how soon we can do it again—preferably without having to write off a couple of vehicles first.’

      She felt her eyes widening. ‘You’re unbelievable. You don’t, by any chance, subscribe to the theory that a life you save becomes yours, do you?’

      ‘It would never occur to me,’ he said mildly. ‘But you didn’t answer my question. Do you want to repeat the experience, Sarah?’

      Confusion rocketed through her. Now that he was actually asking if she wanted to see him again, she wasn’t sure of the answer herself. He had haunted her thoughts ever since he’d pulled her from the wreckage, but they were poles apart in beliefs and value systems. ‘I thought you hated the limelight,’ she said, avoiding a direct answer.

      ‘This has nothing to do with limelight. I want a place in your life, not on your show.’

      She drew a taut breath. ‘My show and my life are pretty much intertwined.’

      ‘They don’t have to be.’ He took the menu from her hands and set it to one side. ‘You’re more than your work, Sarah. Once, I believed I was nothing unless I was in the cockpit of a Formula One car, beating the field at San Merino. Four years off the circuit, living an ordinary life, has shown me it isn’t true. Your own valuation of yourself is what counts, not world championships or the centre seat on some television show.’

      ‘Tell that to my parents,’ she said sourly. ‘For the first time in my life they’re actually proud of me, because I’m doing this job.’

      He gestured dismissively. ‘Then more fool them. They should have been proud of you the moment they set eyes on you, just for being you.’

      She gave a hollow laugh. ‘It’s a nice theory. But when you have sisters like mine you СКАЧАТЬ