The Billionaire's Marriage Mission. HELEN BROOKS

were enough to cause some men to doubt her brain power—she wasn’t going to dress girly-girly to give them more ammunition. Not that they ever made the same mistake twice, she thought grimly. Not by the time she’d finished with them.

      In a repeat of the night before, Travis was standing at the stove as she entered the kitchen, the three dogs spread out at his feet. Beth forced her voice into bright and breezy mode. ‘That smells lovely.’

      He smiled. Beth wondered why it was that when some men smiled they just smiled, and with others it was like pow. Travis’s smile was a definite pow plus.

      ‘I thought we’d eat in here again, if that’s OK?’ he said easily. ‘I do actually have a dining room, believe it or not, but this is more…relaxed.’

      Was that another way of saying this was in no way, shape or form anything remotely resembling a date and she mustn’t get the wrong idea about his hospitality? Beth sat down at the kitchen table. If so, that suited her just fine. ‘With a kitchen as nice as this one I should think you eat in here all the time,’ she said carefully. ‘I would.’

      ‘Quite a bit,’ he said, forking bacon into a dish.

      There was already a coffee-pot, orange juice, toast and preserves on the table. Now Travis deftly placed dishes containing scrambled eggs, sausages, bacon, fried tomatoes, hash browns and various other items of food alongside them. Beth thought there was enough to feed an army. She gazed at it in alarm.

      ‘Help yourself.’ He joined her at the table and immediately her senses tingled at his nearness. Which was annoying, really annoying. Especially as he was totally laid-back.

      ‘Thanks.’ For the last few months she hadn’t had anything of an appetite and had had to force herself to eat, often as not. It was with some surprise that she suddenly found she was quite hungry. She piled up her plate and began eating.

      The food tasted as good as it looked. The sausages and bacon were crisp where they should be crisp but juicy where they needed to be. The rest of the breakfast was also perfect.

      Beth had just popped the last morsel of egg in her mouth and leant back in her chair, feeling utterly replete, when she became aware that Travis was staring at her with unconcealed fascination. But not the ‘I fancy you like mad’ kind as his words informed her when he said, ‘For such a tiny little thing you can certainly pack it away when you want to, can’t you?’

      She wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or an insult. Warily she said, ‘It must be the country air; I don’t usually eat much, actually. Little and often suits me best.’

      ‘It wasn’t a criticism.’

      His smoky voice held amusement and she felt herself flush. ‘I didn’t think it was.’ She met the grey gaze head-on.

      ‘No?’ His brows rose mockingly.

      ‘No.’ It was very firm. Too firm?

      ‘Good.’ He clearly didn’t believe her. ‘I can’t stand women who nibble on a lettuce leaf all day, as it happens,’ he said lazily, standing and beginning to clear the empty dishes into the dishwasher. ‘Incredibly irritating.’

      I bet they’re the sort you date, though, Beth thought sourly. Gorgeous model types who would look good in anything. He turned and caught the look on her face before she could wipe it away. He seemed to have a talent for catching her unawares.

      Stopping what he was doing, he leant back against the worktop and folded his arms. ‘You don’t like me,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Why is that, Beth?’

      She could feel her ears burning. Mortified, she mumbled, ‘I don’t know you, so how could I dislike you? And you’ve been very kind, taking me and Harvey in, feeding us and everything.’

      He made a cutting motion with his hand but his voice was still contemplative rather than concerned when he said, ‘I thought last night you were nervous because of the position you were in and I could understand that. A stranger, the two of us alone here…’ The grey eyes wandered over her hot face.

      In spite of her acute discomfort, Beth registered that eyelashes the length and thickness of his were wasted on a man.

      ‘But it’s not that, is it? It’s me. You don’t like me.’

      He didn’t sound at all bothered. Pique added itself to embarrassment. ‘As I said, I don’t know you.’

      He reached for a dish on the table in which three sausages remained. Giving one to each of the three dogs, he placed the empty container in the dishwasher before he said, ‘You don’t lie very well, Beth Marton.’

      ‘I’m not a man, am I?’ It was out before she even had time to think. Damn, damn, damn. She flushed hotly.

      The piercing gaze homed in. There was an ear-splitting moment of silence before he said, very quietly, ‘I see.’

      She wanted to run but she kept her voice low as she stared at him defiantly. ‘What does that mean?’

      He took up the challenge immediately. ‘It’s the answer to why a young woman with your looks and brains is burying herself in the back of beyond for a while,’ he said calmly.

      Arrogant, self-opinionated, supercilious swine. ‘You know nothing about me, Mr Black, so don’t pretend you do.’

      ‘The name’s Travis,’ he said mildly, glancing at his watch before adding, ‘And we’d better be making tracks if we’re going to meet John. I’ve dug out a pair of old flip-flops my sister left here some time ago, by the way. I presume you don’t want to wade through mud if you don’t have to?’

      It was through gritted teeth that she said, ‘Thank you.’

      ‘You’re most welcome.’ He bowed his head, his eyes on her.

      He was enjoying this. She just knew he was enjoying the whole situation. Beth rose with what she hoped was a good deal of dignity. ‘I’ll go and fetch my things from upstairs.’ She paused. Much as she hated to ask, she couldn’t very well let her pyjamas and slippers drip all over his carpet. ‘Do you have a carrier bag I can use?’ she added tightly. ‘I left my clothes in soak last night.’

      ‘Very wise.’ He reached into a cupboard and fetched out a bag. ‘And the flip-flops are by the front door.’

      She nodded and then sailed out of the room with her nose in the air. Once in her bedroom, she closed the door and leaned against it, shutting her eyes for a moment. All this because she had made the mistake of following Harvey outside to make sure he was all right. She must have been mad. If ever a dog could look after himself, Harvey could.

      Levering herself upright, she marched into the bathroom and retrieved her sodden pyjamas and slippers from the basin. They still carried a faint whiff of something unmentionable.

      ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she told herself out loud. ‘Just keep calm and ignore anything he might say. In a little while you’ll be back in the cottage and you need never see Travis Black again in the whole of your life.’

      And that couldn’t happen a moment too soon as far as she was concerned. He might have rescued her—in a fashion—and in a way she supposed he was something of a good Samaritan, albeit a slightly sarcastic and head-on challenging one, but he was right. She didn’t like him. He was too self-assured, too high-handed, and that amusement with which he seemed to view her was downright insulting.

      She was a capable and experienced professional woman who held down a good job and took care of herself just fine. Well, usually. Admittedly last night had been something of a hiccup but everyone had those now and again. He seemed to think she was an empty airhead.

      She stuffed her wet things into the bag, frowning fiercely. And now she had to face this John Turner, who undoubtedly would also think she was a dizzy female who had lost the sense she was born with. Life was so unfair sometimes…

      CHAPTER THREE

      A