The Tempestuous Flame. Кэрол Мортимер

that one,’ she tried to draw him into conversation.

      ‘You can have it when I’ve finished it. Perhaps it will keep you out of trouble for a while.’ He returned his attention to the book.

      Caroline put out a hand and lowered it again. ‘Couldn’t you talk to me?’

      He raised dark eyebrows. ‘Now what could we possibly have to say to one another? As far as I know we have nothing in common.’

      She grinned at him. ‘That isn’t quite true, we have Alistair Maclean. Now that’s a start, wouldn’t you say?’

      A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ‘Perhaps,’ he conceded. ‘But it isn’t very encouraging, is it?’

      She stood up with enthusiasm. ‘Come shopping with me,’ she invited gaily.

      ‘What?’

      ‘Come shopping with me.’ She took his book out of his hands and tried to pull him to his feet. ‘I’ll buy you steak and cook it for you with my own fair hands,’ she said enticingly when he resisted her efforts.

      ‘Is that supposed to encourage me?’ he asked dryly.

      ‘Mm,’ she grinned. ‘I cook steak divinely.’

      ‘I only have your word for that.’ He stood languidly to his feet, tucking his shirt back into the low waistband of his faded denims.

      ‘But I can, truthfully.’

      ‘Right, I’ll believe you. Get your coat and we’ll go out.’

      ‘Oh, lovely,’ she smiled.

      André’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘Why this sudden partiality for my company? I’m sure Matt was full of how dark my intentions are if I’m encouraged.’

      ‘And even if you’re not encouraged too,’ she laughed. ‘And as you’re the only other person here I can hardly have a partiality for anyone else’s company.’

      ‘True.’ He put out his cigar. ‘What did Matt say about your staying on here with me?’

      ‘He wished me luck.’

      ‘What did he mean by that?’

      ‘I haven’t the faintest idea,’ she lied. ‘But I suppose he meant that he hopes I behave myself—not that I don’t normally,’ she added hastily.

      ‘I’m sure,’ he said dryly. ‘Innocent girls, like you profess to be, often stay in deserted cottages with complete strangers. I realise it’s done all the time.’

      Caroline held on to her temper with difficulty, pouting prettily at his brooding expression. ‘You aren’t a complete stranger.’

      ‘Oh no, I forgot, you’re the mistress of one of my best friends. That makes you an acquaintance of mine too, I suppose?’

      ‘You’re not being very nice to me,’ she said sulkily.

      ‘Am I not?’

      ‘You know you’re not.’

      ‘Maybe.’ André picked up his jacket from the chair. ‘But I don’t trust people who don’t fit into my first impressions of them.’

      ‘And I don’t?’

      André shook his head, his eyes flickering appreciatively over her slim body. ‘Afraid not. One minute you’re spitting like a wildcat, and the next you’re purring like a kitten.’

      Caroline’s eyes sparkled mischievously. ‘I thought men liked variety in their women.’

      He grinned, tapping her sharply on the bottom to usher her out of the room. ‘We do,’ he agreed. ‘But not all in the same woman.’

      She held back her angry retort at his familiarity, and ran quickly up the stairs to collect her coat while he put on his shoes.

      The man below watched her with narrowed eyes, conscious of the deliberate swaying of perfectly curved hips.