Just Once. Susan Napier

come and go at will without attracting notice. And it’s not as if there’s a big choice of long-term rentals if you want something right on the beach…or so the travel agent told me,’ she added swiftly.

      ‘So how did you find out about this one?’ He jerked his beard-roughened jaw at their surroundings. ‘Internet? Newspaper ad?’

      She almost agreed before she saw the potential trap. For all she knew the rental had never been actively advertised.

      ‘Serendipity?’ She smiled limpidly. ‘I read a magazine story about some people who camp at Oyster Beach every Christmas, and then asked around. I am a researcher, you know.’

      His jaw tightened. ‘And something of an actress, too. You didn’t even show a blink of surprise when I opened my door; almost as if you were expecting to see me. Yet you appeared not to recognise me.’

      ‘I was shocked,’ she said truthfully. The little electric pulses that zipped through her veins every time she saw him had intensified rather than faded with time. Her hyper-awareness was simultaneously exciting and inhibiting.

      ‘So you just went ahead and trotted out your cheerful little spiel as blandly as if I was someone you’d never met before rather than the man you’ve been sleeping with for the past two years.’

      Colour touched her haughty cheekbones. ‘We’ve never actually slept together,’ she corrected him with a crisp exactitude that would have made her mother proud. ‘And in the rather awkward circumstances, I thought you would prefer me not to presume on our relationship—’

      ‘Presume?’ he echoed incredulously, dropping his hands from his hips. ‘Am I really that much of a ogre?’

      ‘Quite frankly, yes,’ she punctured his scornful amusement. ‘You made it very clear from the very beginning that there are situations and subjects which are strictly off limits between us—’

      ‘I thought that was a mutual arrangement,’ he cut in roughly. ‘We’re two very independent people, and, as I remember it, you’re the one who’s uncomfortable with the idea of us sleeping together. You never want to stay in my hotel room and you’ve certainly never invited me to spend the night at your house…’

      Behind her back, Kate’s hand gripped the sharp edge of the bench, using the small, cutting pain in her palm as a means of controlling the larger pain. Did he think that she hadn’t been aware of the conflicting signals he had given out in those first few weeks? The reckless rush of passion that had precipitated them into an unlikely affair had caught them both off guard. Drake had been between books at the time and making the most of his freedom, and Kate had thought that once he plunged back into his creative cycle his interest would inevitably wane. Not having his experience in the etiquette of conducting casual romantic liaisons, Kate had quietly taken her cues from him. She had seen the way he shied away from gushing, clingy women, had noticed that, although he had a large circle of acquaintances, he had few real friends. He was quick to charm but slow to trust, so she had been very careful never to step over the invisible boundaries that his own behaviour had marked out, or to demand more than she was certain he was prepared to give. The reward for her restraint had been to hold his interest far beyond the usual few months his well-publicised affairs generally lasted. The price of loving Drake Daniels, she had discovered, was not to love him.

      She smothered the hot words of protest that tingled on her tongue.

      ‘We’re getting off the point—’

      ‘And what is the point?’ He cocked his head. ‘Oh, yes, that’s right—your ridiculous pretence not to know me just now.’

      If that wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black!

      ‘Maybe I was simply scared you might jump to the arrogant conclusion that I had followed you down here, and accuse me of stalking you! A normal person might shrug it off as just one of life’s little amusing quirks, but with you there’s no assumption of innocence; no, “Hi, Kate, great to see you—what on earth are you doing in this neck of the woods?” Your paranoid obsession has to build it into some big conspiracy theory centred solely around yourself.’

      Temper kicked up a brooding storm in his eyes as he realised she had deftly outmanoeuvred him. ‘That was what you meant by “rather awkward circumstances”?’

      She hesitated, and lightning comprehension flashed in the storm-dark eyes. ‘Ah…I suppose that was a reference to my being with Melissa…?’

      Kate cursed herself for giving him the opportunity to torture her with more self-doubts. She was not going to betray the slightest interest in his half-naked companion.

      She tilted her chin and gave him a coolly uncomprehending look. ‘I meant the fact that I know you hate any interruptions while you’re writing—’ Except by the mysterious Melissa, an evil voice whispered in her ear. ‘But if nobody knows where you are, I don’t see how they can be expected to know which places to avoid. Perhaps if you were less secretive you might find out that people actually want to avoid you.’

      ‘If you want to avoid me, Katherine, there’s an easy solution. Pack up and go elsewhere for your holiday. If the rent isn’t refundable I’ll reimburse you. Hell, I’ll even book you in at a five-star resort somewhere.’

      Anywhere but here—he really was desperate to get rid of her! Kate smiled through a thin red veil of rage. ‘Thank you, but I’ve never accepted expensive gifts from you before, and I don’t intend to start now. I’ve already settled in and I’m quite happy with my choice,’ she said, safe in the knowledge her bulging suitcases and bags were hidden behind the closed door of the master bedroom, where she had flung them before hurrying next door. She strolled over to sit down at the table with her tea, letting him know that she was unworried by his looming presence. ‘I’m looking forward to being able to step out of the house straight onto the beach every day…’

      ‘That’s if it stays fine. You’re a city girl, you’ll get bored here by yourself. There’s nothing for you to do if the weather turns—no shops, no cafés or restaurants, no entertainment—’

      ‘Luckily I brought along my own brain,’ she said drily, ‘an essential accessory for the modern single woman. I’m sure I’ll be able to keep myself amused. And I doubt the rest of the local community will be as standoffish as you. Perhaps I’ll meet a handsome young fisherman who’ll offer to show me the sights,’ she added flippantly.

      A muscle flickered alongside his compressed mouth. His restless eyes fell to her cup and his dark brows formed a straight line. He sniffed the air like a hound on a fresh scent. ‘Is that tea? I thought you said that you were making coffee.’

      Her stomach gave a commemorative lurch as another lie come home to roost. ‘I changed my mind.’

      ‘I didn’t know you drank tea.’ He frowned.

      ‘There’s a lot you evidently don’t know about me,’ she pointed out.

      ‘So it would seem.’ His gaze shifted to her face and subjected her to a darkly probing look. ‘Well, since I brought you the sugar, perhaps you could offer me a cup?’

      She barely stopped her mouth from falling open. ‘I beg your pardon?’

      ‘But not tea—I’d rather have coffee.’ He began to prowl around the kitchen. ‘Where are your beans?’ He opened the fridge to inspect the shelves. ‘God, this all looks depressingly healthy—where’s all those lovely, full-fat soft cheeses you’re so addicted to…and there’s no wine, or stash of chocolate. Prunes? Who takes prunes on holiday? Don’t tell me you’re on one of those new faddy diets you said your mother is always suggesting you take. What is it this time—South Pacific Colon? Kidney-cleansing Vegan?’ He closed the fridge and headed for the pantry.

      ‘Do you mind?’ Kate got there first and whipped out the small jar of coffee, pushing it into his chest before he could see the full container of sugar that had been sitting behind it. She shut the cupboard and stood in front of it with folded arms.

      ‘Instant?’