Witchchild. Carole Mortimer

      ‘Believing herself in love with a nineteen-year-old boy is sensible?’ scoffed Hawk.

      ‘I doubt if Hal was any more as innocently gullible as you’re making him out to be than he was naïve,’ Leonie reproved. ‘He gives the impression of having always been mature.’

      The man seated opposite her gave a heavy sigh, his eyes narrowed. ‘There’s nothing wrong with bringing your child up to be independent.’

      ‘I’m sure there isn’t,’ she soothed. ‘I was just pointing out that Hal is hardly your typical nineteen-year-old.’

      ‘No—he’s a potentially very rich nineteen-year-old,’ his father grated.

      ‘You’re going to upset Laura with that sort of talk, you know,’ she chided. ‘She’s very sensitive about the age difference.’

      ‘Not sensitive enough to stop seeing Hal!’

      ‘That’s the trouble,’ Leonie sighed. ‘She will if you ask her to.’

      He gave an inclination of his head. ‘Then I’ll ask her to,’ he drawled. ‘End of problem.’

      ‘You don’t really believe that.’ She shook her head. ‘Laura will be heartbroken if you ask this of them—something I’m sure isn’t going to bother you too much!—but Hal will resent your interference in his life.’

      ‘He’ll get over it,’ his father dismissed harshly.

      ‘Would you have “got over” loving your wife if your father had disapproved?’

      Hawk gave an impatient frown. ‘The situation never arose.’

      Leonie stood up restlessly. ‘Because the woman you loved was suitable.’

      ‘She came from a prominent Texas family, yes,’ he admitted grudgingly.

      ‘Rich,’ Leonie drawled. ‘Maybe we don’t have a lot of money, but Laura is rich in such a lot of other ways—she’s kind, totally loyal to those she cares about, and she cares for Hal so much. Oh, Hawk,’ she went down on her knees beside his chair, her hands resting imploringly on his legs, ‘don’t break my sister’s heart!’

      He flinched back at her close proximity, the tension slow to leave his body. ‘Leonie,’ he sighed, ‘I can’t, in all conscience, approve of this marriage. They’ve only known each other three weeks, damn it!’

      ‘You’re getting over-anxious again,’ she warned lightly. ‘Would you give your approval if they’d known each other three months, six months, a year, say?’ She looked up at him with excited green eyes.

      He frowned. ‘Why do I have the feeling I’m being set up?’

      ‘Oh, come on, Hawk, answer the question,’ she cajoled.

      ‘Yes, I—–’ He gave an impatient shrug. ‘I suppose any of them might be more encouraging than three weeks!’

      ‘Twenty-four days,’ Leonie corrected. ‘I think Laura could even tell you down to the minutes and seconds if you asked her,’ she said fondly. ‘They met at the hotel Hal is managing over here at the moment, you know,’ she added teasingly. ‘There was a meeting of authors there, and Laura went along as one of the guest speakers.’ She eyed him mockingly as he scowled. ‘Thinking about having the conference facilities ripped out?’

      ‘Thinking about it,’ he acknowledged grimly.

      ‘I shouldn’t,’ she patted his hand. ‘They’ve met now. So what you’re really afraid of is that their love for each other won’t last?’ she returned to their previous conversation without any loss of the intensity of the subject.

      ‘What I’m really afraid of is that I seem to have lost control of this conversation,’ scowled Hawk. ‘I get the distinct feeling I’m being manoeuvred—and I don’t like it.’

      She could see that, she realised he was a man who liked to be in control at all times. It was only that she wanted to make things right for Laura and Hal, and this man had it in his power to destroy the beauty of their love. ‘I wouldn’t do that, Hawk,’ she told him truthfully. ‘I’m just trying to come up with a compromise that will make everyone happy.’

      ‘I’d be happy if Hal never saw your sister again,’ he drawled.

      ‘No, you wouldn’t,’ Leonie shook her head confidently. ‘Hal could make life very uncomfortable for you if he chose to do so.’

      ‘I thought we’d already established that I don’t like threats.’ His eyes were narrowed.

      ‘Just as we established that I don’t make threats,’ she nodded. ‘I was just going to point out that Hal would naturally be unhappy—–’

      ‘And he would make my life hell,’ Hawk acknowledged ruefully. Even as a kid Hal had been able to make his displeasure felt. And he was definitely no longer a child. If he had been this situation would never have arisen!

      If only this little witchchild would get her hands off his thighs he might be able to think straight!

      The jolt his body had received when she first touched him had had very little to do with surprise, more like shock, an electric shock that had momentarily rendered him helpless. And now that his equilibrium was returning he shifted uncomfortably, his denims suddenly uncomfortably tight. He didn’t enjoy having to hide his arousal, because the woman he had been aroused by was the last one who should have evoked such a reaction within him!

      Was she doing it on purpose, this little witchchild? The absolute candour in her sparkling green eyes seemed to say no.

      Her fingers were lightly kneading his flesh now, and she seemed completely unaware of the turmoil she was causing inside him!

      He stood up impatiently, feeling regretful as she overbalanced slightly at the abruptness of his movement, but leaving her to straighten without his assistance, knowing that he daren’t touch her right now, that to do so could be his downfall.

      Instead he attacked. ‘How the hell many more cats are going to walk through here?’ The incongruousness of the question struck him as much as it must her, but he knew he just had to talk about something that would take his mind off the throbbing ache in his thighs.

      Leonie sat back on her heels, eyeing him curiously. ‘How many have you seen?’

      ‘Three—no, four,’ Hawk corrected as he remembered the grey tabby he had seen stretched out in the hallway when he arrived.

      She nodded. ‘Then there are just two more. That’s probably Daffodil and Pansy.’

      ‘Who the hell has six cats?’ he derided impatiently.

      ‘I do,’ she shrugged. ‘Daffodil, Daisy, Tulip, Pansy, Rose, and Pop. That’s short for Poppy,’ she explained. ‘I only found out after I’d named him that he was a boy.’

      ‘You named all your cats after flowers?’ He looked at her disbelievingly.

      Her eyes widened. ‘Why not?’

      Why not indeed? Someone in a professional capacity could probably give him a lucid answer to that, but it was obvious there wasn’t going to be one from this woman! Being in her company for too long was a little like being in a room with a bomb, unsure if it were active or not! She was strange with a capital S.

      Then why did she intrigue him more than any other woman had for a very long time? If her sister was anything like her no wonder Hal was so enthralled with her; predictable this woman certainly was not! Boredom was always a problem with him with the women in his life; he doubted any man would have time to be bored with Leonie Brandon.

      ‘They’re all inside today, except Daffodil and Pansy, because of the rain.’ Leonie took his silence to mean he wanted to hear more about the cats.

      And