His Baby!. Sharon Kendrick

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СКАЧАТЬ at herself as she realised what she’d said. ‘Oh, Matt,’ she began remorsefully. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it—’

      His mouth was a hard line as he moved a little closer. ‘But you did mean it,’ he contradicted her, in a voice soft with menace. ‘You know you did, Daisy.’

      Suddenly, this was no longer the Matt she knew and remembered—the combination of protector and childhood hero. This Matt was altogether more threatening—dark and brooding and exuding something, some indefinable something, which sent a shiver of excited recognition all the way down Daisy’s spine. She bit her lip, feeling way, way out of her depth. ‘I shouldn’t have spoken ill—’

      ‘Of the dead?’ he put in.

      ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry.’

      He shook his head. ‘But it’s the truth, Daisy, and we’re taught to speak the truth. Patti did flaunt herself. She was beautiful, and she knew it. Her career as a singer capitalised on the flaunting of that beauty. But you’re no rock singer,’ he finished, and his eyes hardened. ‘And what you’re wearing I would have thought was a little unsuitable for a hop at Cheriton Village Hall. I don’t quite think the locals are ready for it, do you?’

      He gave his old, familiar smile then, and Daisy recognised the gesture immediately. Matt thought that he was about to get his own way and so he was laying on the charm with a trowel.

      Well, he darned well wasn’t going to get his own way, not this time! Daisy pursed her lips together indignantly. ‘And what gives you the right to come back here and start dictating what I should or shouldn’t be wearing?’

      ‘Right?’ He looked genuinely perplexed, the harshness having momentarily fled from his face. ‘Why, the right of friendship, of course. I thought we were friends—and friends look out for one another, don’t they?’

      Daisy stared at him and felt a sudden sadness overwhelm her. Friends?

      No.

      She and Matt were no longer friends. Something had happened to friendship along the way, and it had become something far less innocent ... Somewhere along the way, her girlish crush had matured into a tugging pull of desire. Her innocent fantasies had blossomed into real needs. Because when she looked at Matt now it was with the acknowledgement of his potent sex appeal, the earthy charisma which he exuded like an aura around him. She found herself wondering what it would be like not just to kiss him but to lie naked beside him, to have all that virile strength embracing her ... enfolding her . . .

      She shivered slightly and pushed the disturbingly erotic thoughts away as she met his steady gaze squarely. ‘And now, if you’ve finished your little lecture, please may I be excused?’

      ‘Be my guest.’ He gave her a humourless smile. ‘And how do you propose getting to this—er—dance?’

      ‘I’m getting a lift, actually.’

      ‘A lift?’

      He made it sound as though an alien spacecraft was about to land on the lawn outside. ‘Yes, a lift. You remember, Matt. Car draws up to house. Driver gets out, opens door. Daisy gets in. Car goes “broom-broom!” and roars off at speed!’

      ‘Don’t be so damned flippant!’ he snapped.

      ‘Then don’t be so damned autocratic!’ she retorted, with a shake of her head which set her hair shimmering, ridiculously pleased as she saw him watch the movement with reluctant fascination.

      ‘And just who’s giving you this lift?’ he enquired silkily.

      Daisy opened her mouth to reply, but at that precise moment the doorbell clanged. ‘See for yourself,’ she told him sweetly, and ran downstairs.

      ‘Oh, I shall,’ he said softly, from just behind her.

      Daisy had been rather pleased when Mick Farlow had invited her to the village dance, since he happened to be flavour of the month. And no wonder. At a towering twenty-one years old, with a thatch of thick blond hair and the kind of shoulders which could support at least two women sitting on them, Mick was the local dreamboat. Even Daisy had agreed that. But that had been before she’d known that Matt was coming home . . .

      So perhaps it wasn’t surprising that as Matt un-smilingly opened the door to her would-be suitor Mick Farlow should suddenly pale into complete and utter insignificance beside the tall, dark man who seemed to dominate the spacious hallway. It was like comparing a candle’s light to a flaming beacon.

      Daisy thought how boyish Mick looked compared to Matt. How smooth and shiny his skin was, when contrasted with Matt’s virile and shadowed jaw. He even looked ill-at-ease in his best suit, the tie sitting awkwardly on his broad neck. Matt, who was casually dressed in black jeans and a grey shirt, somehow managed to look more elegant than Mick in all his formal clothes. All of a sudden, Daisy heartily wished that she weren’t going to the dance.

      ‘You’ve come to collect Daisy, I believe?’ asked Matt.

      ‘Er, that’s right—sir.’

      Daisy closed her eyes in despair. Sir? Oh, for heaven’s sake—now Mick was sounding positively feudal!

      ‘You’ll not be drinking, I hope?’ And it sounded more like an order than a question, thought Daisy indignantly. Of course he wouldn’t be drinking.

      ‘N-no, sir.’

      ‘And what time do you propose having her home?’

      At this point, Daisy thought, she would explode with rage. He was acting like some sort of jailer, for heaven’s sake! ‘Go and get in the car, Mick,’ she instructed. ‘I’ll be out in a moment.’

      ‘But—’

      ‘Now!’ she ordered firmly as she gave him a gentle shove out of the door, before turning to stare indignantly up at Matt.

      ‘Do you think that you can suddenly arrive back here and start playing the heavy?’ she demanded furiously. ‘Or does it just do your ego good to have Mick kowtowing to you as if you were the village squire?’

      The grey eyes glittered. ‘I really don’t see what you’re so uptight about, Daisy. I would have thought it was perfectly normal to enquire when we might expect you home. It’s a question I would have asked if it had been my mother he was driving. The roads are particularly icy at this time of year, as I’m sure you know.’

      Oh, how great to be compared to his mother! ‘Mick’s a perfectly good driver!’ defended Daisy, who had never been in a car with him in her life.

      ‘I’m delighted to hear it,’ answered Matt urbanely, but his eyes were hard as they flicked intently and tellingly at the amount of leg she was showing. ‘And is that all he’s good at, I wonder?’

      Daisy’s cheeks flamed at the implication and at the sudden fizzing of excitement which his cool scrutiny of her legs could provoke. ‘That was a cheap remark!’

      He shrugged. ‘Only if you choose to interpret it that way. I could have been talking about his ability to handle a—tractor.’

      ‘Oh, sure!’

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