Savage Interlude. Carole Mortimer

at the disapproval in her face. ‘Perhaps you’re right. Would you like me to show you your room?’

      ‘My room—–! You can show me where I’ll be changing,’ she corrected. ‘But it certainly won’t be my room.’

      ‘I’m not going to argue with you—yet. I’ll take you to the room now. I only have someone come in to keep the place free of dust and stock up the refrigerator, I manage everything else on my own,’ he continued conversationally, taking her down a short corridor and into a bedroom on the left-hand side. ‘I’m not in one place long enough to keep permanent staff.’

      Kate could well believe it; he always seemed to be reported to be moving to one location or another. She liked the bedroom, the huge four-poster bed, the Queen Anne furniture. What extraordinarily good taste this man had, quite surprisingly so.

      ‘This is lovely,’ she told him appreciatively.

      ‘Changed your mind about staying?’

      ‘No! Definitely not.’

      He shrugged. ‘I’ll leave you to sort out your clothing while I fix us something to eat.’

      She couldn’t imagine the worldly, sophisticated Damien Savage doing that and she protested loudly. ‘I’m not hungry,’ she lied.

      ‘Rubbish. I’m pretty good at cooking omelettes, light and fluffy as they should be,’ he added temptingly. ‘And I can have it ready in about five minutes.’

      She ignored the rumblings of her stomach. ‘Why should you want to get me a meal?’

      Damien Savage sighed. ‘I happen to be hungry myself. It’s quite some time since I last ate.’

      ‘Oh well.’ Kate turned away to begin taking out her gown for the evening. ‘In that case I might as well join you. I’d love an omelette.’

      ‘With salad?’

      ‘With salad,’ she agreed.

      She didn’t need to turn to know he had left the room, she just sensed it. This was the strangest day she had spent since the day she had suddenly been introduced to James’ unusual but interesting life. Strange, because a few hours ago she hadn’t even met Damien Savage; she had had the usual girlhood dreams about him a few years ago, but now she was actually in the bedroom of his apartment. Her immature daydreams had never taken her this far.

      She hung up her dress on a hanger she found in the closet. It was a black silk gown, so it hadn’t creased too much in the case. An hour or so on a hanger should ensure that it had no creases at all.

      Dinner was ready for her when she came into the kitchen a few minutes later. A place was set for her at the breakfast bar and she sat down without a word. Damien sat next to her and they ate in silence.

      He heaved a sigh of satisfaction as he drank the last of his coffee. ‘Right,’ he stood up. ‘I’ll go and shower and leave you to clear this away.’

      ‘You’ll what?’ Kate looked at him in amazement, pushing back a stray wisp of hair that had escaped her topknot.

      ‘You heard me. I’m not going to wait on you all evening.’ He stopped at the door. ‘And wear your hair loose tonight,’ he ordered.

      ‘I will not!’ She faced him, a slender defiant figure in her fitted trousers and blouse. ‘I hardly ever leave my hair free.’

      ‘For me you will,’ he promised softly. ‘I love longhaired women. How long is it?’

      ‘Almost down to my waist,’ she told him sulkily. ‘And I don’t want to be classed with your women!’

      ‘I don’t have any women at the moment,’ he answered with some amusement. ‘Only a little girl that I’m finding more desirable every moment I’m with her. I like females that answer me back,’ he surprised her with this disclosure, ‘and you do little else.’

      ‘If I’d realised that I would have been so nice to you you would have longed to get away.’ The golden flecks were more noticeable in her wide brown eyes. ‘I wish I’d known!’

      ‘Too late,’ he laughed huskily.

      Left alone in the kitchen, Kate had little choice but to wash the dishes and tidy them away. By the time she had finished Damien was back, dressed only in a black silk robe that reached just above his knees, his strong tanned legs bare beneath its short length, and the V-neckline showing her the thick dark hair that grew on his brown chest. He had obviously shaved, and droplets of water still glistened in his hair where he had showered.

      He watched her over the flame of his lighter as he lit the long cheroot in his mouth, smoke drifting about the. room. ‘Your turn,’ he said softly, his green cat-like eyes never leaving her face.

      She was disconcerted by his complete unselfconsciousness at his almost nakedness, her nostrils appreciating the aroma of the cheroot. ‘I—er—couldn’t you have dressed before coming back in here?’ she demanded defensively.

      He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘Why should I? I live here.’

      ‘Yes, but—but I’m here.’

      ‘So? I’m wearing more now than James was this afternoon, and yet you didn’t appear shocked then.’

      ‘That was different, and you know it,’ Kate accused. ‘Now we’re alone, and you—well, you aren’t dressed.’

      Damien gave a half smile. ‘Come on, honey, I’m quite adequately clothed, and you’re just wasting time. It’s seven-thirty already.’

      ‘All right, I’ll shower and change. And for goodness’ sake get dressed!’

      The smoke wafted about his head. ‘I intend to—in my own good time.’

      Kate moved to the door, but he blocked her exit. Her eyes were riveted to the dark hairs on his chest and she couldn’t raise her eyes any higher, fearing the mockery in his eyes. ‘Will you let me pass, please?’ Her voice was a husky whisper and she cursed herself for her timidity. But he was so overpowering, so essentially male.

      He moved slightly aside, but not far enough for her to pass through without touching him, and she didn’t want to do that. ‘Go ahead,’ he encouraged, smiling tauntingly.

      Kate set her lips determinedly and brushed past him, her body coming into full contact with the hard muscle of his. She recoiled away from him instinctively, hating herself for her weakness. She walked hurriedly to the room Damien had given her to use, closing the door firmly behind her.

      God, how he unnerved her! Much as she hated to admit it, it was an inescapable fact. She had met men like him before, arrogant, darkly attractive, but none of them had ever affected her as he did. She was constantly aware of him, mainly in anger, but sometimes as a vibrant attractive man who demanded attention unconsciously.

      And he was attractive, much more handsome than most of the men who appeared in his films. He could almost have been a film star himself, in fact he had been at one time, until directing had interested him more. And he was good at his job, excellent in fact.

      But he frightened her; she wasn’t up to the sophisticated games he seemed to be constantly engaged in. She didn’t need two guesses as to his interest in her, but under James’ guardianship she wasn’t even allowed to date the same man more than a few times, let alone indulge in promiscuous affairs. But she felt sure Damien Savage didn’t plan a platonic friendship between the two of them, it wasn’t his way at all.

      What would she do if he tried anything like that on her? What could she do? She certainly wouldn’t give in to him. She couldn’t do that, although she was sure he could be very persuasive.

      A warm shower and fresh make-up and she felt more confident of herself, and once she had on the figure-hugging black dress she felt a hundred per cent better. It was a strapless dress, finishing abruptly as it rested on her firm uptilted breasts, smoothing