Sensual Encounter. Кэрол Мортимер

Richard drawled derisively.

      For the first time in weeks Kate felt irritation with him. ‘Nothing about Mr Rourke looked outdated to me,’ she said tautly.

      He seemed not to notice her lack of good humour, glancing at his wrist-watch once again. ‘We really will have to go now, Kate.’ He held out the silver jacket that complemented the simplicity of style of her black dress and matched the colour of her sandals and evening bag. Richard knew he could never fault Kate’s way of dressing, everything she wore was stylish and complimentary to her slender beauty—even creations that didn’t belong to his stores!

      If Richard could have read her thoughts at that moment he would have been a little shocked by her thoughts. She was remembering a time not so long ago when her clothes had been as casual as Jared Rourke’s, of walking on a golden beach in her tight denims, her anorak stained with sea-spray. It was a memory she had tried to put out of her mind; seeing Jared again had reminded her of a lot of things she would rather forget.

      ‘Yes, let’s go.’ She put her arm through the crook of his. ‘I’ve been looking forward to our evening together.’

      Richard looked pleased by her eagerness, and he visibly preened as they went down in the lift, liking the way she clung to his arm. Although he didn’t look quite so happy when he saw the way a red Lamborghini had trapped him into his parking space. ‘Damn,’ he frowned at the rakish angle of the red car, before getting in behind the wheel of the Porsche to manoeuvre it slowly out on to the road with Kate’s guidance from outside.

      Kate glanced up to Gill’s flat, wondering if Jared was going to be out of luck a second time tonight; the Lamborghini probably belonged to Gill’s new boyfriend, the one she was trying so hard to impress.

      They weren’t having a very good start to what was supposed to be a special evening, Kate thought ruefully as they finally got started on the drive to the restaurant. Tonight she and Richard were having a celebration dinner; it was just like Jared Rourke to turn up and disturb her. Three months he had had to put in an appearance, and he had to turn up tonight of all nights!

      But he had a way of doing that—hadn’t his unexpected appearance been the reason she had met him in the first place?

      The south-western coast of England in mid-March was not where she had intended to be three months ago, in fact she had intended being somewhere else completely at the time. But circumstances had dictated that she had to get away, and the hotel where she had spent many holidays with her parents as a child had appeared like a refuge when the yearly brochure had arrived in the post, a ritual that had continued despite the fact that she hadn’t been there in five years.

      It was a large impersonal hotel in one of the large coastal towns of Devon, providing many sporting or intellectual entertainments if you wanted them, but leaving you free to just be on your own if you preferred that. Kate did. She wanted to be alone. But on her first evening there she had met Jared Rourke, had met him at a time when all her defences were down. That was the excuse she had given herself over the months to explain her behaviour with him.

      She had walked down to the secluded cove a short distance from the hotel, the sand silver-gold in the moonlight, the sea battling with the cliffs that prevented it sweeping overland to cause destruction in its wake. The chilling water had been cold about her ankles, the rest of her huddled down in warm clothing as the elements echoed her mood, stormy. When she walked into the solid object blocking her pathway she couldn’t hold back her gasp of surprise.

      ‘Did I hurt you?’ queried a concerned voice from the darkness.

      ‘You startled me!’ She moved away from the bulky figure of the man, stepping back in the dry sand. She had thought herself alone.

      ‘I didn’t think you could startle pixies,’ the man mused in that slightly lilting voice.

      Kate gave an impatient sigh; she was not in the mood for a flirtation. ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ she turned away, ‘I have to get back to the hotel.’

      ‘Why?’

      She turned back to find him standing very close to her, the wind whipping her long red hair about her face as she tried to distinguish his features in the darkness. It was an impossible task. ‘I just do,’ she said irritably, and began to walk across the sand to the narrow pathway that led up to the hotel grounds.

      A hand came out to grasp her arm, the man was still at her side. ‘I’ll walk with you.’

      The voice sounded young, interested, and for the first time she realised the inadvisability of coming down here alone in the dark. ‘Would you please leave me alone?’ She pulled away from him.

      ‘No.’

      Kate swallowed hard at that single-worded answer. He spoke so firmly, so inevitably, that she felt her tension rising. ‘I shall scream—–’

      ‘Who would hear you?’ There was laughter in his voice now.

      She moistened her lips, tasting the salt there, the sea-water being whipped up into the air by the fierce wind causing the whitecaps far out to sea being illuminated by the moon. If only she could see her accoster—all she knew was that he looked big and sounded young, his hair obviously long and dark as it was blown about. ‘I didn’t come alone,’ she told him with confidence. ‘I have a friend—–’

      ‘I know—me.’ Once again he clasped her arm. ‘I know you’re down here alone, at the hotel alone too. Don’t you realise how dangerous it could be out here?’

      ‘I’m beginning to!’

      ‘You’re in no danger from me, I can assure you,’ he mused.

      ‘I’m not?’ She unwittingly showed her uncertainty.

      ‘Not at this precise moment, no,’ he mocked. ‘Later I can’t answer for,’ he added softly. ‘I’m staying at the hotel too,’ he spoke briskly. ‘I saw you leave over an hour ago, when you didn’t come back I thought I ought to come and check that you were okay.’

      ‘Who asked you to be my watchdog?’ Kate snapped.

      ‘No one,’ he replied without rancour. ‘I just didn’t like the picture I’d conjured up of you a helpless crumpled heap at the bottom of the cliff.’

      ‘Well, you can see I’m fine, so I—–’

      ‘I’ll just see you back to the hotel, if you don’t mind.’

      ‘I do!’

      ‘Well, I’m going back myself anyway, so I might as well walk with you.’

      ‘I—–’ Kate began.

      ‘Are you here on holiday?’ he asked conversationally. ‘Only you don’t seem to be with anyone and—–’

      ‘Are you spying on me?’ she demanded furiously, turning to glare at him in the darkness, her eyes almost luminous, deep gold in her anger.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘I—You—–’ She was speechless at his candidness.

      ‘I saw you arrive this morning and I’ve been watching you ever since. I can’t seem to do anything else,’ he added derisively.

      Now she knew who he was, knew the face and body behind the voice. She had been aware of a man with laughing blue eyes watching her as she brought in her cases this morning, and again as she ate dinner this evening. The man had been seated across the room from her, also alone. He was good-looking if you liked rakish charm and a complete disregard for fashion and elegance. He was also the last person she wanted to talk to, his interest in her being obvious as his gaze never left her during dinner. In fact, it had been this that had hastened her departure from the dining-room this evening, her meal only half over.

      ‘How interesting,’ she said in a bored voice, relieved as she saw the lights of the hotel.

      ‘You don’t think so?’