London's Eligible Bachelors. Sharon Kendrick

back in Venice…No. She wasn’t going to put herself through that kind of torture.

      ‘Relationship,’ she said doggedly.

      God, but she was persistent! ‘No, Sabrina,’ he said deliberately. ‘I do not have a relationship at the moment.’

      She realised then that there was something else she needed to know, something which she really ought to have established before she’d come here.

      ‘And won’t I…’ she lifted her face to his ‘…cramp your style?’

      He looked down at her, momentarily disorientated by that fierce little look of pride. He frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’

      Her heart was in her mouth as she said it, but she managed to keep her voice steady. ‘Well, if you haven’t got a relationship, then presumably you’re in the market for one—’

      ‘Why, is that an offer?’ he questioned silkily, but the surge of blood to his loins made him wish he could take the question back again.

      ‘It most certainly is not!’

      ‘Pity. Actually, I’m not “in the market” for a relationship, as you so delightfully put it.’

      Was that a note of warning colouring his tone? A polite but efficient way of telling her not to start concocting any little fantasies of her own?

      ‘You might meet someone else,’ Sabrina rushed on. ‘And prospective girlfriends might be put off by the presence of another woman. Particularly one with whom…whom…’

      ‘With whom I’ve already had a relationship?’ he challenged coolly.

      She felt oddly defiant. ‘Do you really think that what we had could be called a relationship, Guy?’

      ‘Well, how would you like to describe it?’ he mused.

      As the most wonderful night of her life, that was how she would describe it, but tell Guy that and she would see his gorgeous face freeze with fastidious horror. Men judged events differently. A little light passion. No, scrub that. Very heavy passion.

      ‘Things just got out of hand,’ she said, trying not to think about the way he’d smiled a secret kind of smile as he’d bent his dark head to kiss her. ‘That’s all.

      As a blow to his sexual pride, it was quite the most exquisite thrust, and Guy very nearly smiled. But not quite. ‘They sure did,’ he agreed in a sultry murmur, watching with dark interest as the nipples of her tiny breasts sprang into glorious life beneath the sweater she wore. Almost as if they were reaching out to touch him.

      He leaned over the bed and scooped up an armful of ski clothes. ‘I’ll pack these away,’ he groaned. ‘And then I’ll think about throwing together some supper.’

      Guy’s idea of ‘throwing together some supper’ was not what Sabrina understood by the term. For a start, the contents of his fridge could have kept the most dedicated hedonist going for at least a week. Sabrina could see fancy chocolates, champagne and enough different cheeses to stock a delicatessen.

      ‘Do you like smoked salmon?’ he asked.

      ‘Er, love it.’

      He looked up at her, and frowned. ‘Well, do you or don’t you?’

      ‘I said yes, didn’t I?’

      ‘You sounded unsure.’ He gave a little click of irritation. ‘Look, Sabrina, let’s just get a couple of things straight, shall we? I don’t want you agreeing with me for the sake of it—just because it’s my flat.’

      ‘OK,’ she agreed. ‘And while we’re on the subject of house rules—’

      ‘Rules?’ he interrupted, with a sardonic elevation of his dark brows. ‘Goodness me, how very schoolmistressy of you! Are we talking firm and unbending rules, I wonder, or very, very flexible ones?’

      Sabrina felt a mixture of fury and frustration as she stared into eyes which mocked her. He could stop that right now! ‘Oh, do, please, spare me the innuendo!’ she snapped.

      Guy gave a reluctant smile. Had he actually been worried that all the fire had gone out of her? Not all of it, no. ‘OK,’ he said slowly.

      ‘I meant rules about things like paying you rent—’

      ‘The rent doesn’t matter.’

      ‘It does matter,’ said Sabrina stubbornly. ‘I can’t stay here for nothing—and before you tell me that you can afford it—’

      ‘You know very well I can—’

      ‘That’s not the point.’

      ‘Then just what is the point?’ said Guy steadily, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans.

      The movement distracted her, and suddenly she found his proximity disburbing. More than disturbing. Had she really thought that she would just be able to ignore that blatant sex appeal? ‘I’d just like to make a contribution while I’m here.’

      Their eyes met.

      ‘Oh?’ questioned Guy softly.

      She saw the swift darkening of his eyes. ‘I’ll contribute food,’ she told him shakily.

      ‘Food?’ Guy queried dazedly.

      ‘Towards the running of the household,’ she elaborated.

      ‘Yeah,’ he agreed distractedly. ‘Whatever you say, Sabrina.’

       CHAPTER NINE

      SABRINA was woken by a banging on the door, and her eyes flickered open for a few dazed moments before reality clicked in from unconsciousness. Her gaze drifted upwards. A high ceiling. A beautiful flat. Guy’s flat.

      ‘Sabrina!’

      Guy’s voice!

      ‘What is it?’ she answered groggily.

      ‘Are you awake?’

      ‘I am now.’ She yawned and picked up her wristwatch, which was lying on the locker. Six-thirty? What time did he call this? She had never been the best early morning person in the world. Still in the warm haze of sleep, she felt too lazy to be inhibited.

      ‘Why have you woken me up?’ She yawned again.

      ‘I wondered why you weren’t up. Did you set your alarm? We don’t want you to be late on your first day, now, do we, Sabrina?’

      That teasing little lilt set her senses fizzing. ‘Of course I set my alarm! I don’t have to be at work until nine!’

      ‘That late?’ he drawled. ‘I’ll have been at my desk for at least two hours by then.’

      ‘I’ll have a medal minted for you, Guy!’

      He sounded amused. ‘I’m just off now—you’d better come out while I show you how the security system works.’

      Sabrina was out of bed and pulling a face at her tousled reflection in an instant. She raked a brush through the unruly locks, pulled on her dressing gown and opened the door.

      He was wearing the most beautiful dark pinstriped suit with a matching waistcoat and pure silk tie. The snowy shirt emphasised the blackness of his hair, the faint tan of his skin and the almost indecent length of his legs.

      Sabrina couldn’t stop her heart from racing at just the sight of him—but it was with pure delight rather than desire, as if seeing Guy in the morning was the most perfect way to start a day. Even though her fingers flew automatically to her chest to clutch together the gaping blue satin of the robe.

      Guy didn’t miss the movement, nor the tantalising glimpse of pale breast it obscured.