Fiancee By Mistake. Kate Walker

open doorway, the man before her having to stoop quite considerably in order to look her in the eye.

      But the impossible thing was that those features, that powerful frame, could only belong to one man. And it was his identity that made Leah doubt her sanity at this moment.

      ‘No!’

      Weakly she shook her head, hoping to dispel the tormenting vision. Even in her wildest dreams she had never fantasised that she might meet up with Sean Gallagher. After all, he was the latest TV heart-throb, the man whose appearance in a hugely successful drama series had had the effect of bringing almost the entire female population of Great Britain to a complete halt every Thursday night.

      ‘No?’ her rescuer questioned, no softening evident in his tone. ‘Is that, No, there’s nothing wrong, or, No, you’re not fine after all? For God’s sake, woman! Can you string two coherent words together or not?’

      ‘Of course I can!’

      Incensed by his rudeness, Leah’s impatience matched his now, anger sharpening her words. So much for fantasy, she told herself ruefully. Sean Gallagher might be the hunk of the year—of the decade—but it seemed that his stunning looks were in no way matched by an equally appealing character.

      ‘Yes, I’m fine. No, I’m not injured—at least as far as I can tell. But as I haven’t tried to stand up yet I can’t exactly swear to the total accuracy of that statement. Does that satisfy you, or would you like to interrogate me a bit more?’

      ‘Well, on the evidence of that outburst, I would have to agree that you are obviously not badly hurt.’ The thread of dry humour that warmed his attractive voice had an effect that was almost as devastating as the smile that softened and curved his hard mouth. ‘But I take exception to your use of the word “interrogate”—’

      ‘Except away!’ Leah returned sharply, riled by the mockery in his words. ‘You may be God’s gift to women, but you’re clearly not going to win any prizes for sensitivity. Has no one ever told you that someone who has just hit a patch of black ice and spun off the road into a ditch might actually be some way from fully in control? There is such a thing as shock, you know, and…’

      ‘I know, and I’m sorry.’

      Unexpected gentleness drew the force of her tirade, reducing her to stunned silence. He actually looked shamefaced too, she acknowledged, grudgingly conceding him a favourable point or two.

      ‘I was pretty shocked myself. After all, I’ve driven along this road day and night for weeks without seeing anyone. So you can imagine how I felt when I came round the corner to find your car nose-down in the ditch. Was that what happened? You hit a patch of ice?’

      ‘I think so.’

      Leah’s voice was no longer as confident as it had been before. Her memories of the actual accident were hazy, and trying to recall them was distinctly unsettling.

      ‘I was driving along—crawling, really, because of the weather—and suddenly the car seemed to have a will of its own. It went into an uncontrollable skid, and the next thing I knew was that I was here…’

      And where was here? She should have been over halfway to her mother’s by now, but in the appalling driving conditions she had missed the exit off the motorway and had had to take a smaller side road in order to get back to the route she wanted.

      She’d made another wrong turning later, and was then hopelessly lost. As a result, she wasn’t at all sure where she’d ended up, only that it was somewhere in the wilds of Yorkshire, and obviously miles from anywhere. She couldn’t remember when she’d last seen a single house, let alone anything resembling civilisation.

      And, if she was honest, her thoughts hadn’t exactly been on what she was doing. Foolishly, considering the whirling snow and swiftly dropping temperature, she had been distracted by the problems that had been fretting at her mind all week. That was why she had missed her turn-off in the first place.

      ‘I think you’d better get out of there. It doesn’t look exactly safe,’ her rescuer advised. ‘Can you stand?’

      ‘I think so.’

      It was more of a struggle than she had anticipated. For one thing the front of the car was at a very awkward angle, one that necessitated an ungainly shuffle and an even less ladylike scramble in order to get her legs out of the door.

      ‘Here—’ Sean Gallagher held out a hand encased in a dark leather glove. ‘Let me help.’

      It was only a hand, Leah told herself. And all he wanted to do was help. So why was she suddenly gripped by a rush of something that was neither fear nor excitement but a disturbingly volatile mixture of the two? Why did she feel that to touch him would…?

      Would what? Now you’re being silly, she reproved herself sharply. Did she expect that just to take hold of his hand would spark off some explosion? Contaminate her in some way? Be sensible, Leah!

      But common sense and reason seemed to have nothing to do with the way she was feeling. It was as if some primitive instinct older than time was warning her not to risk even the slightest contact with this man.

      ‘I can manage!’

      She heard the words before she actually realised that her tongue had formed them and knew they were a mistake from the way his dark head went back, the long, powerful body stiffening in hostile response to her tone.

      ‘Suit yourself.’

      It was curt, sharply dismissive, but what else had she expected? After all, her own inner unease had tightened her throat, making her declaration sound uncharacteristically tart and cold.

      And, to compound the problem, her undignified scramble to get out of the car without any help had taken more effort than she’d realised. It had also resulted in the rucking up of the skirt of her red velvet dress, pulling it high up on her thighs.

      Not for the first time Leah cursed the way her sudden decision to spend an extra day of the Christmas holidays at home had meant leaving in a rush straight after the agency’s party.

      Her mother wasn’t even expecting her, believing that she wouldn’t be setting out until tomorrow morning. But Paula Elliot had sounded so sad and lonely when Leah had phoned her that she had decided on impulse to leave earlier. After all, Christmas was a time for families, and, without her father there, there was only Leah herself to fill that space in her mother’s life.

      If she had planned more carefully, she could have found time to change into something much more appropriate for the long drive north. As it was, not anticipating the blizzard conditions that had set in once she was on the motorway, she had simply pulled on a warm coat over her party wear.

      But a tight velvet Lycra sheath was definitely not the easiest of garments in which to manoeuvre her way out of a car perched at such a difficult angle. Particularly not with six feet two of very masculine hunk watching her every move with blatantly appraising interest.

      ‘Very nice,’ he murmured as Leah inched her way forward, wanting desperately to be upright and decently covered again as quickly as possible.

      Those amazing blue eyes were on the slender length of her legs, brightening noticeably as an unwary movement pushed the tight skirt even higher, revealing the pale flesh of her thighs above the lacy tops of her stockings.

      ‘So tell me, what do you do for an encore?’ he asked provocatively.

      ‘Nothing!’

      Leah aimed for freezing distance and missed it by a mile. Her snapped retort ended with a gasp of shock as, with her feet finally on the ground, she realised just how icy the road had become. The worn leather soles of the old shoes she wore for driving had no grip at all on the treacherous surface, and she felt her feet begin to slide from under her.

      With a cry of panic, her hand went out automatically to grab at the nearest thing for support.

      The ‘nearest thing’ was Sean Gallagher’s arm. Leah’s