That Devil Love. Lee Wilkinson

brushing out the heavy silk hair which fell almost to her waist, gripping the brush until her knuckles showed white, when the doorbell pealed, startling her.

      The thought that maybe Linda had gone into labour and Richard needed her to look after the twins sent her hurrying into the living-room.

      Though surely he’d have rung her?

      As she hesitated, she spotted Stephen’s burgundy scarf lying on the settee, and picked it up with an exasperated sigh. The light was still on so he would know she wasn’t yet in bed. Though why on earth he’d bothered to come back for it…!

      A quick glance through the central peephole proved her conjecture right, providing a glimpse of white evening shirt-front and black bow-tie.

      She pressed up the catch and unfastened the safety chain, but what she’d been about to say died on her lips as, shock exploding inside her, she gaped at the man filling her threshold.

      Before she could make any attempt to collect her scattered wits he’d walked past her as if he owned the place and closed the door behind him.

      Looming tall and decidedly dangerous, those amazing green-gold eyes with their thick sooty lashes fixed on her, Zan Power dominated the small room.

      Tossing the scarf aside, she asked jerkily, ‘What are you doing here? What do you want?’

      His eyes holding hers, he smiled without answering. The irresistible allure of that smile and the certain knowledge that what he wanted was her threw her totally.

      Panic-stricken, she cried, ‘Get out! Go on, get out before I call the police.’

      Raising narrow black brows, he stood aside so she could get to the phone. ‘Call them, by all means. But what will you tell them? How will you justify such an extreme course of action?’

      She stood, trembling in every limb, while her common sense told her she had lost her head and behaved stupidly, given him an added advantage.

      Somehow she reined in the runaway panic and, slowly unclenching her hands, admitted, ‘I’m afraid I over-reacted. But you took me by surprise.’

      When he made no comment, just continued to stand and look at her, she added awkwardly, ‘It’s getting late and I was about to go to bed.’

      She wished she hadn’t said that when his eyes travelled assessingly over her fine Victorian-style cotton nightdress with its long sleeves and high neck, the smooth hair tumbling down her back like pale silk, the bare feet.

      His inspection completed, he smiled mockingly. ‘Don’t worry, you’re quite decent.’ Then, briskly, ‘I want to talk to you.’

      Zan Power’s voice, clear and low-pitched, with that very faint accent which lent it such devilish charm, sent shivers running up and down her spine.

      Pressing slim fingers to her throbbing temples, she waited.

      He indicated a chair. ‘Won’t you sit down?’ It was an order in spite of the polite phrasing.

      Clearly he intended the tête-à-tête…confrontation…whatever, to be on his terms.

      Recognising the futility of trying to oppose him, she sat down, deliberately choosing a different chair.

      Amusement flickered briefly in the tawny eyes, before he queried, ‘Where do you keep your aspirin?’

      She was surprised into answering, ‘In the bathroom cabinet.’

      ‘You haven’t taken any?’

      ‘No.’

      Without a word he disappeared through the partly open door to return a few moments later with half a tumbler of water and two round white tablets, which he transferred from his palm to hers.

      ‘I can tell by the tension in your neck and shoulders that you’ve got a headache.’ Handing her the tumbler, he continued with wry humour, ‘I could get rid of it with a few minutes’ massage, but after your earlier reaction I hesitate to lay a finger on you, even for therapeutic purposes.’

      Thank God for that, she thought fervently, swallowing the tablets. She couldn’t bear the thought of him touching her.

      For more than one reason.

      Despite her hatred of him, like some beautiful but deadly snake he fascinated and attracted her. If he touched her…kissed her…she might be caught body and soul in his coils, unable to free herself ever again from that dark enchantment.

      She shuddered.

      Taking a grip on sanity, she pushed the fanciful notion away and told herself scathingly not to be an idiot.

      ‘Do you mind if I sit down?’ Without waiting for an answer, he took a seat opposite.

      Unnerved afresh by his calm deliberation, the way his gaze never left her face, she said, ‘You wanted to talk to me?’ Then, with a sudden jolt, ‘How did you know where I lived?’

      Coolly he admitted, ‘I followed Leighton’s car.’

      In her mind’s eye she saw the sleek silver BMW glide out of the traffic stream and draw up opposite.

      ‘So far as I’m aware it’s not a criminal offence,’ he added sarcastically.

      Biting her lip, knowing she had to keep her composure, she said levelly, ‘Perhaps you’ll tell me why you went to so much trouble?’

      ‘For several reasons.’ He slipped a hand into his pocket.

      As she gazed at him he reached over and clasped her right wrist, making her jump convulsively. ‘I wanted to return this.’

      Looking down at the gold bracelet he’d snapped on like a handcuff, she stammered, ‘Th-thank you. I hadn’t realised I’d lost it.’

      ‘You didn’t lose it,’ he admitted coolly. ‘I took it from your wrist.’

      ‘Did you learn how to do that in the back streets of Piraeus?’ The question was out before she could prevent it.

      Just for a moment he looked nettled, then the anger was swiftly masked. ‘I did, as a matter of fact. But though I and my brothers and sisters often went barefoot, our parents managed to feed us and keep a roof over our heads without the necessity for stealing.’

      Staring at him with eyes that had turned darker and cloudy, she asked, ‘Why did you take my bracelet?’ In spite of all her efforts her voice shook a little. ‘You must have had a reason?’

      ‘Oh, I had. Depending on the situation, I decided I might need an entrée, some legitimate excuse for knocking at your door.

      ‘You see, I couldn’t rest until I knew how things stood between you and Leighton. If he’d driven straight off, I would have let things ride until tomorrow, but when he came in with you I began to wonder if I’d been wrong in my assumption that you were no more than friends.

      ‘Just as I was about to come over and break up whatever was going on, the door opened…’ His voice soft but lethal, Zan added, ‘When I saw him kiss you, I could have cheerfully broken his neck.’

      Fear once again stifling her, she jumped up.

      With one cat-supple movement he was on his feet and standing over her, his dark face only inches away from her own. ‘I meant what I said, Annis. From now on I intend to be the only man in your life.’

      ‘If you think after all you’ve…’ Abruptly she halted the rush of bitter words, biting her inner lip until the lesser pain made the larger more bearable.

      The past was best left alone. Nothing she, or Zan Power, for that matter, could do or say would alter a thing.

      When she had herself under control, she carried on with icy composure, ‘You don’t seem to understand. There’s no way I’d ever get to even like you.’

      ‘I don’t want you to like me. Liking is such an insipid, bloodless