Expecting the Playboy's Heir. PENNY JORDAN

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      Julia’s face burned.

      ‘It was just a joke, that’s all. I didn’t mean anything…I suppose you’re expecting me to sleep on the sofa bed?’

      ‘No. You can take the bed. After all, I’m not the one who has the problem waking up in the morning, am I?’

      It was true that she was more of an owl than a lark, Julia knew, and it was also typical of Silas that he wouldn’t have forgotten that as a teenager she had preferred to sleep late in the mornings—especially when she was on holiday.

      ‘Which side of the bed do you prefer to sleep on?’

      Julia gave him a suspicious look. ‘If I’ve got the bed to myself it doesn’t matter, does it?’

      Silas exhaled slowly and warningly.

      ‘Julia, it would help us both if you were able to refrain from looking for a sexual connotation in everything I say. My question about which side of the bed you prefer was provoked quite simply by a desire to know which of the two bathrooms it would make sense for you to use. That is to say, if you sleep on the left-hand side of the bed then, should you need the bathroom during the night, you would probably automatically use the one on the left. On the other hand—’

      ‘All right, Professor, I get the picture.’ Julia stopped him crossly. ‘Why on earth couldn’t you just say that, Silas?’

      ‘Why couldn’t you simply answer my question?’

      ‘This is never going to work,’ Julia told him, raking her hand impatiently through her hair.

      ‘It certainly won’t work if you don’t want it to,’ Silas agreed succinctly. ‘If we want it to work then it’s up to us both to make sure that it does.’

      She certainly didn’t want another run-in with Nick like the one she had had earlier in the evening, But his behaviour towards her had set her wondering just how he treated Lucy, and if in helping to preserve her marriage she was truly doing her friend a favour.

      ‘There’s no way I want to be the cause of Lucy being hurt,’ she agreed. ‘But if she’s unhappy in the marriage too, then—’

      ‘Has she told you that she’s unhappy, or are you relying on Blayne for that piece of information?’

      ‘I haven’t discussed her marriage with Lucy, but—’

      ‘But you have discussed it with her husband?’ Silas pointed out coolly.

      Julia slanted him a sideways and slightly wary glance. He was angry with her now; she could tell that just from the way in which his voice had hardened.

      ‘This isn’t the eighteen hundreds, Silas, when a woman couldn’t speak to a friend’s husband or have male friends.’

      ‘It isn’t your friendship that Blayne wants, though, is it?’

      She was tired, and a small dull ache at the back of her eyes was steadily becoming an insistent stabbing pain. All she wanted to do was to have a bath and go to bed, not stand here arguing with Silas.

      ‘Why don’t you climb down off your moral high horse?’ she suggested grittily. ‘After all, you aren’t in this just out of altruism, are you?’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      He went so still so quickly, like a hunter suddenly on the watch, that her own body tensed as well.

      ‘I mean that aside from wanting to protect Gramps, there has to be something else in this for you.’

      ‘Such as?’

      ‘This woman you no longer want, for instance? The one you were happy to take to bed but don’t want to get seriously involved with?’

      ‘Like Blayne with you, you mean?’

      He had relaxed again now, but he was still firing those poisoned darts, with deadly accuracy. Well, she could fire a few of her own.

      Giving a small shrug, she told him, ‘If you want to put yourself in the same category as Nick, then go ahead.’

      She had known, of course, that he wouldn’t like her comment, but she hadn’t correctly calculated just how much.

      When he took a step towards her she found that she was automatically stepping back, and, even more betrayingly, wrapping her arms around herself, her hands on her bruised flesh as though to protect it from further assault.

      There was a look now in his eyes that she could not interpret—at least not with her brain. Her emotions were reacting to it with a sudden rush of hot miserable tears that burned the backs of her eyes.

      ‘I can’t understand what on earth you’re even doing here in Majorca,’ she burst out, exhausted. ‘I suppose it must be something to do with the Foundation?’

      There was the smallest of pauses before Silas agreed quietly, ‘Yes.’

      ‘Another acquisition, I suppose?’ She was just too tired to argue now.

      ‘In a manner of speaking. Although this one is very special…unique, in fact.’

      ‘And worth the trouble this fake relationship with me is going to cause?’ Julia asked him wryly.

      ‘Well worth it,’ Silas confirmed softly, before continuing, ‘Now, which side of the bed?’

      ‘The left. No, the right…I really don’t mind. Which side do you prefer?’ Julia asked him, and then went bright red. ‘No, I didn’t mean that. What I meant was, which bathroom would you prefer…?’

      When he continued to look at her, she bit her lip, and then told him huskily, ‘I can imagine what you’re thinking, but I don’t want to have sex with you, Silas.’

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