Lady Surrender. Carole Mortimer

challengingly.

      ‘We’ll see,’ Aaron murmured.

      She could see the return of challenge in his own eyes, and knew that he was enjoying himself. James had enjoyed challenges too, an easy conquest held no interest for him. But she hadn’t known that until it was too late, until she found him in her cousin’s arms, Jocelyn treating him in the same casual way James regarded Charly. And how James had loved it. And how he had loved Jocelyn too. But when she had asked him for a divorce he hadn’t wanted Jocelyn enough to give up the one thing he did want from his marriage to Charly. And then when he had decided he wanted a divorce he had once again used the one threat against her guaranteed to make her agree to anything he wanted.

      ‘Where have you gone to?’

      She focused her attention on Aaron Grantley with effort, having forgotten his presence as she thought of that last conversation with James that had ended in tragedy. ‘Nowhere, Mr Grantley.’ She moved to sit behind her desk. ‘For a moment you reminded me of someone,’ she added as he seemed to expect more.

      His eyes narrowed. ‘They seemed unhappy thoughts.’

      ‘They were,’ she acknowledged bluntly.

      ‘I realise we got off to a bad start last night—–’

      ‘We didn’t get off to a start at all,’ she corrected abruptly. ‘You threw out a lot of groundless accusations, bullied me into acting like your girlfriend—–’

      ‘No one bullied you into anything,’ Aaron cut in. ‘I don’t think anyone ever could—What did you say?’ he frowned as she muttered something under her breath.

      She straightened her shoulders. ‘I said they could try,’ she spoke loud enough for him to hear this time.

      He shrugged dismissively. ‘You wanted to put Molly’s mind at rest,’ he stated firmly.

      ‘Matt adores her,’ she said flatly.

      ‘He wouldn’t be the first man in love with his wife to be attracted to another woman,’ Aaron spoke hardly.

      ‘What time are we expected for dinner this evening?’ she ignored the question in his tone.

      ‘Eight o’clock.’

      She nodded. ‘I’ll drive myself down,’ she told him briskly. ‘I expect to be working late.’

      ‘I’ll call for you.’

      ‘I’d prefer to drive myself,’ she said determinedly.

      ‘Independent, huh?’ he derided.

      ‘Absolutely.’ Cold grey eyes met his amused gaze.

      ‘James Hart must have been a bastard,’ he said with narrowed eyes.