All Male. Kay Thorpe

drew in a long slow breath, opposing the autocracy with every fibre. ‘Do you take it on yourself to organise everyone’s life for them? I don’t need a taxi!’

      ‘You’re getting one, nevertheless.’ Neither tone nor expression left any doubt of his adamance. ‘My mother will be in total agreement. She said only last night that she worried about you leaving after dark.’

      ‘Thoughtful of her, but—’

      ‘But nothing.’ This time there was a definite edge of impatience to his voice. ‘If you want to continue coming here at all this winter then you accept the situation.’

      ‘Surely,’ she said, ‘that’s up to your mother to decide?’

      ‘Not in the circumstances.’

      ‘Oh, I see. It’s your house, and you make the decisions!’

      ‘If you want to see it that way. Most people would be only too happy to have a door-to-door ride home at the end of the day.’

      He was right there, but she wanted no favours from him. ‘I’m not most people,’ she declared frostily.

      ‘Obviously.’

      He had straightened away from the post, standing with hands thrust into trouser pockets and suit jacket pushed back to reveal a broad expanse of sparkling white. Kerry found her eyes drifting involuntarily downwards over the flat waistband and lean hips, warmth singeing her cheeks as she dragged her gaze forcibly upwards again to see his mouth slant.

      ‘Devastating, isn’t it?’ he said softly.

      ‘What is?’ she parried.

      ‘Sexual attraction. I was aware of it the moment we met.’ The pause was meaningful. ‘We both were.’

      ‘There’s such a thing as over-confidence,’ Kerry retorted caustically. ‘I’d say you had it in spades!’

      ‘Uncertainty is no asset,’ came the smooth response. ‘If you weren’t as drawn to me underneath all that antagonism as I am to you, you wouldn’t be making such a song and dance about it.’

      ‘I am not...’ she began furiously, breaking off abruptly as she saw the glimmer in his eyes. It was all a big joke to him—a game he was expert at playing. The temptation to fling Sarah’s name in his face was almost overwhelming. It took a real effort to resist it Sarah herself might not want Kerry championing her cause.

      The hoot of a horn from the street outside was something of a relief, despite her reluctance to accept the arrangement.

      ‘I suppose that’s the cab,’ she said.

      Lee inclined his head in ironic agreement. ‘Let’s not keep it waiting.’

      He accompanied her out, opening the cab door for her.

      ‘I’d suggest we meet over the weekend,’ he said as she brushed past him, ‘but I suspect you’d turn me down just for the hell of it. Maybe next weekend.’

      Meaning that by then she would be bound to have mellowed towards him, Kerry assumed as he closed the door and lifted a hand in taunting farewell. Well, he could think again! Nothing he could say or do would change her opinion of him. It was set in stone.

      Where her finer feelings were concerned, maybe, came the sneaking thought, but there was no denying her physical responses. Sexual attraction, Lee had called it: a chemical reaction that had nothing to do with liking or disliking. A governable one, though, she told herself tightly. When it came to mind over matter there was no contest. Not in this instance.

      Phoning on the Saturday to announce her return from a two-week shoot in the Caribbean, Sarah sounded more up-beat than she had done in ages. Posing semi-nude for magazine and calendar work hadn’t been her original aim, but the financial enticement had overcome any scruples she’d had. She had, she claimed, enjoyed the whole experience.

      Kerry contemplated leaving Lee Hartford’s name out of it altogether when detailing her own new job over lunch the following day, but the chance, no matter how remote, that Sarah might hear of the relationship persuaded her to come clean.

      ‘He’s everything you said,’ she confirmed. ‘Thinks he only has to beckon to have every woman falling over herself to please him! It would do him a power of good to have the tables turned on him!’

      The vivacious face opposite hardened. ‘It would need someone capable of playing him at his own game.’ She gave a brittle laugh. ‘If you feel the way you say you do about him why not do it yourself?’

      ‘Even if I were up to that kind of thing at all, I think I’ve made my opinion a bit too obvious to start now,’ Kerry returned drily, aware all the same of a fleeting temptation.

      ‘You could always make out you were trying to cover up how he really affected you. He’d believe it,’ Sarah was obviously taken with the idea, her eyes bright with malice. ‘You could do it. You could even enjoy doing it! Just imagine the satisfaction you’d gain from giving the great Lee Hartford the run-around!’

      Kerry could imagine. What she lacked was the guts to take him on. Fear of falling for him? suggested that sneaky little voice.

      ‘Not really my style,’ she said flatly.

      ‘It could be.’ Having come up with the notion, Sarah wasn’t about to let it go that easily. ‘You’d be avenging all those he’s made fools of, not just me.’

      ‘You think he leads all his women to believe he’s going to marry them?’ Kerry questioned.

      ‘Maybe not all, but he definitely led me to think that was where we were heading. Then suddenly it was over. He just lost interest.’ Sarah waited a moment, wry resignation overtaking the animation in her eyes when Kerry remained silent. ‘I suppose you’re right. It wasn’t a good idea. Anyway, forget it.’

      It would be a long time before Sarah was able to forget, Kerry guessed, sensing the depth of hurt still there in her friend. Had there been any softening at all in her own feelings toward Lee Hartford they would have hardened again. He was a total degenerate!

      

      

      Monday morning was dry and sunny, the air crisp and clear. If only the winter weather could always be like this, Kerry yearned, walking from the station to the house with a spring in her step. The only drawback being, she supposed, that one would want to be outside in it rather than confined indoors.

      In celebration of the sunnier outlook she had put on a skirt and matching waistcoat in a tan and cream checked wool, along with a cream cashmere sweater, the whole ensemble covered by a toning throw-over wrap. The outfit had drawn several approving glances on the way here, and drew yet another when Estelle saw her.

      ‘You could stalk a catwalk along with the best!’ she declared. ‘I still think you’re wasted doing what you do, good though you are at it.’

      ‘I like what I do,’ Kerry assured her. ‘Although I’ll certainly be sorry when this job is over.’

      Estelle shook her head. ‘That won’t be for quite a time. I dare say there’ll be a whole lot of revision to do before I can even think about submitting a manuscript.’

      True enough, Kerry reflected, feeling anything but daunted by the prospect. If the bio failed to make the impact she predicted it wasn’t going to be through lack of effort on her part.

      That confidence faded just a little over the course of the morning when Estelle showed signs of having hit a mental block.

      ‘I suppose I’m not really in the mood,’ she confessed in the end. ‘My mind keeps running off at a tangent. Supposing you type up what I’ve managed to come up with this far and see how it looks?’

      Kerry did her best to hide her reservations. Running out of steam this early tended to suggest a basic loss of interest. It was possible that the whole autobiography idea had been no