Chasing Summer. Abigail Gordon

she sobbed again, letting the towel drop as she sashed the gown tightly around her like a shield. ‘I hit him. I might have killed him!’

      ‘Hit who? Killed who?’

      ‘Oh, don’t ask me questions. Just come!’ she cried, grabbing one of his arms with wildly trembling hands, and tugging him out into the corridor.

      ‘All right, all right.’

      He followed her back into the other penthouse, where Salome stopped at the doorway to the bedroom, shaking and pointing. ‘In there...beside the bed...Charles Smeaton...Ralph’s lawyer...’

      Mike flashed her a look that suggested he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘You had a man up here? Tonight? After you left me?’

      For a second she didn’t comprehend what he was getting at. But then she groaned, understanding dawning like a winter’s day, bleak and cold. ‘No, no, it’s not what you think.’ She shook her head dejectedly. Oh, God, it was so typical of him to believe the worst of her. Typical and despicably predictable. Her dismay eventually found voice in strangled, desolate words. ‘I was alone...asleep. I woke to find Charles in my room. He—’

      ‘How did he get in?’ Mike interrupted, frowning darkly.

      Salome’s sigh was despairing. Did he have to sound so disbelieving? ‘Charles obviously had a duplicate set of keys,’ she explained frustratedly. ‘It was he who handed me over my keys earlier today. I suppose he used the private basement elevator to avoid the security man in the foyer.’

      ‘Mm.’ Mike still looked sceptical. ‘So what happened next?’

      ‘He was staring at me in bed, and then he came in and started undressing. He—’ She broke off, the memory of her near-escape sweeping over her, bringing nausea and a feeling of faintness. She swayed, and Mike caught her by her upper arms, his eyes rounding with what looked like horror.

      ‘He didn’t rape you, did he?’

      She heaved in a shuddering breath. ‘No...but he was going to. I...I asked him to leave, but he wouldn’t. I was in bed, you see, and I couldn’t get out. I...I didn’t have any clothes on. He took off his belt, and...’ Another shudder reverberated through her. ‘I think he was going to beat me first,’ she husked. ‘He—’ Her voice died, cut off by the appalled and incredulous expression on Mike’s face.

      She smothered a sob of utter despair. ‘It’s true!’ she cried. ‘As God is my witness, it’s true.’

      For what seemed like ages he just stared at her, and then his eyes saddened with a type of weary resignation. ‘I believe you, Salome,’ he sighed, his hands lifting to rake back his hair with exasperated fingers. ‘Truly...I believe you.’

      His declaration of belief gave her cold comfort, for his words had a sardonic, bitter flavour that implied she was still at fault, as though somehow she inspired men to commit atrocities. Any indignation was swiftly followed by guilt, though, as she recalled what had happened in the lift, how she had eagerly welcomed his attentions, then spurned him later. A shamed heat burnt in her cheeks and her eyes dropped in dismay. How could she blame him for thinking what he did? She had indeed acted like the tease he’d accused her of always being.

      Thinking about what had happened between them in the lift, however, did not produce a guilty reaction for long. Instead, it flooded her mind with memories and her body with feelings that were very distracting, especially with Mike standing so close to her in his half-naked state.

      Her gaze slowly lifted to flick over him, lingering far too long on the tanned breadth of his shoulders and chest, the smattering of dark curls running from below his throat down to his navel, exposed by the rather low-slung pyjama-trousers.

      The sound of a groan coming from the bedroom had Salome’s eyes flying away from their perturbing travels to where two unsteady hands were appearing over the side of the bed, clutching at the sheet. Her heart somersaulted. Good grief, she had virtually forgotten all about Charles, her mind having been totally consumed by her escalating feelings for the man in front of her!

      But, with her assailant actually getting to his feet, fear renewed itself in a painfully constricted chest. Charles was a big man, even bigger than Mike, who was at present moving into the bedroom, leaving Salome clutching at the doorframe, her eyes big and frightened.

      Charles finally stood up, holding the side of his head. He threw Salome a vicious glare. ‘You bitch!’ he snarled, and made a jagged lunge forwards before suddenly seeing Mike standing on the other side of the bed. He was momentarily taken aback, wobbling on unsteady feet. But then he straightened, his mouth twisting in an ugly and aggressive fashion.

      ‘Called in the cavalry, did she? Well, it won’t do her any good. I’ll have that bitch in court for assault. I never touched her, you know,’ he flung at Mike. ‘If she says I did, she’s a liar. All I wanted to do was talk!’

      ‘You take off your shirt to talk?’ came the drawled comment from Mike.

      Charles’s blood-shot eyes blinked, his legal mind slowly ticking over. His moustache thinned further as his lips drew back in a smug smile. ‘So we were going to do more than talk. So what? Believe me, bud, she invited me in here. You don’t see any signs of a forced entry, do you?’

      ‘Nice try,’ Mike rejoined. ‘Too bad about the illegally kept set of keys in your pocket.’

      Guilt was written all over Charles’s face, but he tried to bluff his way out of it with a snarled, ‘She gave them to me.’

      Salome’s eyes raced to Mike. She was astonished at how unconcerned he looked as he moved around the foot of the bed to stand between Charles and herself, his arms folding in a nonchalant but confident fashion.

      ‘Who the bloody hell are you, anyway?’ Charles jeered. ‘Some fancy playboy neighbour she’s sucking up to already?’

      ‘Your judge and jury,’ Mike said in a low, steady voice.

      Charles looked taken aback for a second, then aggressive. He squared his shoulders, his wide-legged stance very threatening. ‘Don’t bite off more than you can chew, pretty boy. I was quite a boxer in my day.’

      ‘I’m terrified,’ Mike drawled, giving his opponent a dismissive glance.

      Charles’s face went red with fury. ‘Cocky bastard, aren’t you? Well, cop this!’ His fist shot out quickly, but Mike was quicker, side-stepping and grabbing Charles’s arm, twisting it round behind his back, then pushing him face-down on to the bed, his knee jamming down in the small of the lawyer’s back. Charles began making smothered groaning sounds.

      Mike held him there while he looked up at a wide-eyed, breathless Salome with amazing nonchalance.

      ‘Be a good girl and go and put some coffee on, will you?’ he suggested mildly. ‘I’ll be out to have it after your friend and I have had a little chat. He seems to be labouring under the most peculiar misconceptions about justice.’

      ‘Yes, but—’

      ‘Not now, Salome,’ he broke in firmly. ‘Later. Close the door and go.’

      She closed the door. But she didn’t go.

      She stood staring at the door for some time, amazed and undeniably impressed. She had never witnessed such a devastating display of macho skill and strength, and she felt quite overwhelmed by it all. Who would ever have guessed that Mike’s polished and gentlemanly façde hid such a powerful, primitive streak?

      A shiver raced up and down her spine at the realisation that such a man would stop at nothing to get his own way, particularly with the weaker sex. This thought should have struck dread into her heart, yet her only response was an upsurge in sexual excitement. Now she wanted him more than ever!

      She shook her head, disgusted with herself. What was the matter with her? Hadn’t she learnt from her mother’s mistakes? Heavens, she’d spent her entire life seeing the end result of relationships