An Exception to His Rule. Lindsay Armstrong

from Sydney to Ballina to get out of the rat race. She told me she’d started a picture-framing business and a small art gallery and how Arthur still dealt in art—he was born up here apparently.’

      ‘Yes. He was a friend of my father’s; more than that, he helped Dad establish his collection.’

      ‘So I told her I’d also decided to get away from the rat race and I was looking for a job. That’s when she grew thoughtful and finally dragged me off to meet Arthur.’

      ‘I see.’ Damien swirled the liquid in his glass. ‘So they didn’t know—’ he lifted his dark gaze to her ‘—about your brother?’

      ‘No.’ Harriet traced the rim of her glass with her forefinger then took another sip. ‘I know it seems a bit deceitful, but I find it hard to deal with people feeling sorry for us.’

      He was silent for a time, then, ‘What were you doing up here two months ago, when you bumped into me?’

      ‘I was checking out this rehabilitation centre. It was the first time I’d been to this area—another reason I was a bit dithery, I guess; I didn’t know my way around.’

      ‘It’s not exactly a metropolis,’ he said wryly then gestured as if to delete the comment. ‘But you’re living up here now? Your brother’s in the rehab centre?’

      Harriet nodded.

      ‘Where are you living?’

      She hesitated then took a sip of the brandy and shrugged. ‘In a rented caravan in the caravan park. I do have a job—it’s waitressing, so it keeps the wolf from the door, but—’ She broke off.

      ‘Only just?’ he suggested.

      She didn’t respond but stared a bit blindly down at her glass.

      ‘OK,’ he said quietly, ‘no more interrogations. The job is yours if you want it but what are we going to do?’

      ‘Do?’ she repeated.

      He set his teeth. ‘Yes, do! About the rest of it?’

      Her deep blue eyes widened. ‘The rest of it?’

      He grimaced. ‘You must have a short memory span as well as being accident-prone. Or do you often go around kissing guys like that?’

      The confidence she’d got from a few sips of brandy ebbed a little at the same time as her eyes widened as the full memory of their passionate encounter hit her.

      She took a larger mouthful of brandy.

      ‘You had forgotten,’ he marvelled.

      ‘No. But we did get interrupted,’ she responded tartly. ‘I don’t know about you, but I found it extremely embarrassing. Enough to make the rest of it, well...’ She broke off as she searched for the right words.

      ‘Pale into insignificance?’ he suggested dryly.

      ‘Not exactly,’ Harriet denied and took another sip of her drink. ‘But it did—move it back a bit if you know what I mean.’ She paused and shrugged. ‘It probably put it into its right perspective.’

      ‘What would that be?’

      She glinted him an assessing look from beneath her lashes, then thought—why should I try to spare his feelings? ‘It was just something that happened in the heat of the moment, wasn’t it?’

      ‘Go on.’

      Harriet hesitated, unable to read his expression but feeling a prickle of apprehension run through her. ‘Well, you insulted me, I responded—’

      ‘With a blow, allow me to remind you.’ He looked sardonically amused.

      Harriet compressed her lips. ‘I’m sorry. I believe I had cause, however. Look—’ she paused ‘—I wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t still furious with me over your car.’

      ‘Not to mention my collarbone. There are still some things I can’t do. I’m not still furious, however.’ Damien Wyatt crossed his arms and leant back with a frown growing in his dark eyes. ‘Well, I may have been a bit annoyed but I have to say I’m mostly confused now. In fact I’m beginning to wonder if I’m hallucinating. Did you or did you not kiss me back almost like a woman starved for—that kind of thing?’

      Harriet stared at the cameo for a long moment then looked at him squarely. ‘Maybe. But it’s best forgotten.’

      ‘Why?’

      Harriet pushed her glass away and stood up. ‘Because I have no intention of getting involved with you, Mr Wyatt. Please don’t take that personally. I’m...I’m...happy to be fancy-free, that’s all.’

      He stared at her and she was suddenly conscious that not only was she completely unable to read his thoughts but, more than that, it troubled her.

      Why? Why should she care one way or another about what he thought of her? The sensual response he’d managed to draw from her had come about because he was experienced and worldly—she had little doubt of that—so why should she invest it with any special meaning or depth?

      Well, she amended her thoughts, she had to take some responsibility for her reaction, surely? Starved? Perhaps—but she didn’t even want to think about that...

      ‘Would you mind if I went now? I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your time but I honestly don’t think it could work.’

      Damien stayed absolutely still for a moment longer then he straightened and stood up, leaning his fists on the table. ‘Yes, I would mind,’ he said dryly, ‘and I’ll tell you why. I don’t propose to have you on my conscience for a moment longer, whether I realise it or not, Harriet Livingstone.’

      ‘You don’t have to have me on your conscience!’ she objected.

      ‘Believe me, I’d rather not but—’

      ‘What do you mean—whether you realise it or not?’ Harriet broke in to ask with a frown.

      He shrugged. ‘I can’t work out why else I agreed to see you again.’

      Harriet linked her fingers together and told herself not to pursue this but some demon prompted her, rather than simply getting up and walking out, to say, ‘If you think I could ever work for you, you must be mad, Mr Wyatt.’

      Their gazes clashed.

      ‘The job is yours, Miss Livingstone,’ he replied deliberately. ‘You can move in the day after tomorrow—I’ll be gone then. I’m going overseas for some weeks, at least a month. Of course Isabel, who runs the house and the rest of it when I’m not here, will be in residence. So will Charlie, for a while anyway. Did Arthur get around to mentioning the remuneration package we thought was suitable?’

      Harriet blinked. ‘...Yes.’

      ‘You can add a twenty per cent commission on any items I decide to sell. Will that do?’

      ‘I...I...’ She hesitated.

      ‘Don’t go all dithery on me again, Harriet,’ he warned. ‘Finish your brandy,’ he ordered.

      She stared at him, deep hostility written into her expression. ‘No. I’ve got to drive.’

      ‘All right, but I need to know if you’re going to take it or not.’

      Harriet would have given the world to answer in the negative but if he was going to be away...and surely she could finish the job in a month if she worked day and night...?

      ‘I’ll take it,’ she said barely audibly.

      ‘Do you want to see the studio and the flat?’

      ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sure they’ll be fine.’

      He studied her narrowly with a glint of curiosity in his dark eyes. ‘I can’t work out if you’re a superior, head-in-the-clouds although