The Jilted Bridegroom. Кэрол Мортимер

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      He turned back to her, grinning rakishly as he retrieved the towel before it could fall off him completely. ‘Another of the idle rich, hm?’ he taunted.

      Her mouth twisted. ‘The family I'm here working for may be,’ she bit out, ‘but I'm certainly not. I'm here to look after their nine-year-old son Stephen.’ But she had also become chief cook and bottle-washer since arriving here! The Forbeses hadn't needed a temporary nanny for Stephen—they had needed a cook and a maid as well. And she seemed to fit the description! She had already decided she would never be swayed by family affection and help out so-called friends of her mother again.

      ‘So you're a sort of nanny, Miss…?’ He looked at her enquiringly.

      ‘Williams,’ she supplied abruptly. ‘Sarah Williams. And I'm not a sort of anything, I'm actually a trained nurse on holiday. Or, at least, supposedly so,’ she added drily. ‘I've answered your questions; now perhaps you could answer a few of mine.’ She made no move to go through to the rest of the villa, even though there were no more plants to be watered in this room.

      She was very much aware of the precariousness of her position alone in the villa with an almost naked man, but she felt she would be better standing her ground rather than making a move of any sort, particularly one that could look in the least nervous.

      ‘Who are you?’ She looked at him challengingly. ‘And what are you doing here?'

      ‘My name is Griff Morgan.’ He held out his hand to her politely, incongruously so in the circumstances. ‘It's Griffin really, but even people who aren't my friends call me Griff,’ he added with a mischievous grin. ‘Virginia calls me Griff,’ he added cajolingly.

      Sarah took the proffered hand automatically, so disconcerted now that she didn't even notice when he forgot to let go of her hand again.

      She frowned her puzzlement. ‘Mrs Major didn't mention that anyone was coming to stay at the villa while she was away. In fact,’ she shrugged, ‘that's the reason I was asked to come here, because there was no one else.'

      Griff smiled, the tawny-coloured eyes warm as his gaze swept across the golden loveliness of her face. ‘That's because Virginia didn't know I was going to be here. I didn't know it myself until yesterday.’ He grimaced.

      Sarah looked at him curiously. ‘What happened yesterday?'

      He gave a derisive shrug. ‘I felt in need of a break,’ he dismissed lightly.

      ‘But—Griff Morgan!’ Her eyes had widened with sudden recognition of the name. ‘You're the investigative reporter, aren't you?’ she realised incredulously.

      Most people, in England at least, had heard of the name Griff Morgan; he had made a career out of the type of exposé stories that the general public couldn't help but notice, sparing that public none of the graphic details.

      Yes, Griff Morgan knew of all the hell life had to offer, had seen most of it first-hand. Which probably accounted for that air of cynicism she had sensed about him on such brief acquaintance. And yet he seemed to have maintained his sense of humour too, those laughter lines about his eyes and mouth not a figment of her imagination.

      ‘That's me,’ he confirmed lightly, dismissing the idea of any importance being attached to that.

      ‘I read the stories on drug addiction you did last year.’ She shuddered at the memory. ‘They were harrowing!'

      Something of the horror flickered in his own eyes, and then disappeared, the amusement instantly back in his expression. ‘They were meant to be,’ he said dismissively. ‘And the answer to the second question you asked me a minute ago is that, for the moment, I'm staying here.'

      Sarah frowned at this knowledge. ‘When you say “staying here” do you mean—–?'

      ‘I mean,’ Griff Morgan took up her hesitant speech, ‘that until I decide otherwise I'm going to live at the villa. I always stay here when I can get away,’ he added with a shrug as she still didn't look convinced. Griff looked amused—at her expense! ‘I'm sure that once Virginia gets back from her cruise she'll confirm all this for you. In the meantime—–'

      ‘In the meantime I think you should let go of my hand!’ She extricated herself with difficulty, having suddenly become aware of a lightly caressing thumb against her palm, the intimacy of the action not lost on her. ‘I really do have to finish watering these plants,’ she added, slightly agitated, a delicate blush to her cheeks.

      He strolled across the bedroom to sort through the crumpled clothes that lay in the open suitcase on the floor. ‘I just fell into bed when I arrived last night,’ he ruefully explained the untidiness. ‘I was a little tired. No—make that exhausted,’ he grimaced.

      ‘Have you been working on another story?’ She found it difficult to keep the avid interest out of her voice, intrigued in spite of herself.

      Besides, it helped take her mind off the rumpled intimacy of the bed behind him, the indentation his head had left on the pillow still there from when he had got out of bed earlier.

      ‘Something like that,’ he said drily.

      ‘They said that when you did the drug-addiction stories last year you actually took drugs yourself.’ She frowned at the danger of that much dedication, important as it was to expose the people who pushed and sold those drugs.

      ‘Never!’ he denied harshly, making a visible effort to regain his composure as he realised he had briefly lost it. ‘I wouldn't get involved in that destruction for any price. No, Sarah,’ he shook his head, ‘I just gave a good impression of being involved. I was lucky enough to get away with it. Most of the people in that business play dirty.’ He frowned, the humour he made such an effort to maintain once again pushed aside in favour of a stronger emotion, anger this time. ‘Very dirty,’ he added grimly.

      ‘Is it worth risking your life just to get a story?’ She shook her head.

      His mouth quirked, the warmth back in his eyes, making Sarah wonder if she had imagined the cold anger in his face a moment ago. Looking at him now, lazily relaxed, it was hard to imagine him being anything else. He looked like a man who enjoyed life to the full.

      He tapped her lightly on the end of her nose with one long, tapered finger. ‘All of life is a gamble, little one,’ he drawled. ‘And if I didn't achieve more than getting a story for all that effort maybe it wouldn't be worth it,’ he added seriously. ‘But if it means just one of those ba—–one pusher,’ he amended tautly, ‘can be put behind bars then that's reason enough for me to take the risk. I can't believe that you, as a nurse, don't have a similar opinion,’ he cajoled.

      She did. Of course she did. But, ‘I don't risk my own life trying to do something about it.'

      ‘You can't seem to make up your mind whether that's a good thing or a bad thing,’ he said teasingly. ‘Let's forget about all that,’ he dismissed firmly. ‘And you can answer me a question that's been puzzling me ever since I got here.'

      Sarah couldn't look away from the warmth of those tawny-coloured eyes, mesmerised by their depths, held captive by the deep gold flecks within the light brown. ‘Yes?’ she prompted huskily.

      He grinned, the cleft looking twice as endearing. ‘Where the hell is Jasper?’ His mouth quirked with humour. ‘I СКАЧАТЬ