Mistress by Mistake. KIM LAWRENCE

him, from the tip of his blond head to his expensively shod feet, and she realised she was looking at the boy everyone else had wanted to be, not a loner isolated by quirks of nature. ‘No, I don’t suppose you can. I was only trying to help.’

      ‘Save me from fool women with good intentions!’ She’d obviously approve of him more if he could produce evidence of childhood trauma. ‘Alas, I can’t wheel out a dys-functional family, even though I can see the fact my parents are kind, loving, well-balanced…and, yes, well-off individuals ruins my credibility in your eyes.’

      ‘They must be wondering where they went wrong with you.’

      ‘You really can’t stop with the cheap wisecracks, can you? Dear God, I wouldn’t give you custody of my cat, let alone a child! Didn’t it occur to you to tell me before you embarked on your crazy scheme?’

      ‘It wasn’t my…’ she began. She closed her mouth. She wasn’t about to lay the blame at her brother’s door. After all, she had been a co-conspirator and the allegedly responsible adult; she should have known better. It was having this awful man point out the fact—very unpleasantly—she couldn’t stand.

      ‘Dan made us swear not to. He didn’t want his fantastic Uncle Drew to think he was a wimp. Tell me, what does it feel like to be a role model?’

      A dull red ran up under Drew’s perfect tan. Her smile of triumph faded and a soundless squeak escaped her lips as she realised with horror she was wondering how far that golden colour extended. She hadn’t seen any demarcation lines earlier.

      ‘So you decided you were better qualified to deal with this problem than, say, his parents, or guardian, or head-teacher? Isn’t there anyone who can put the brake on your wild ideas? What did your partner think of the scheme? Or didn’t you tell him? I take it he is a he?’

      Eve knew in that second she’d die rather than admit her unattached state. Up until this point she hadn’t attached a stigma to her single state, but under the mocking glare of those hateful, knowing eyes things looked very different.

      ‘Very much so. Theo is very supportive of anything I do.’ It sounded so smooth she was quite impressed herself.

      Please forgive me, Theo, she thought, hoping she didn’t look as guilty as she felt. He wouldn’t mind her using his name in a good cause, she told herself. Question was, would he think scoring points off Drew Cummings a good cause?

      ‘Meaning you walk all over him in your hobnailed boots.’ He lifted a supercilious eyebrow as he gazed at the footwear. ‘Poor guy.’

      ‘He doesn’t need your sympathy!’ She ground her even white teeth silently.

      ‘No, he needs therapy.’ He looked pointedly at her clenched fists and shook his head. ‘A family trait, I see. There was some point was there, to you barging in here, Miss Gordon?’

      Good question, Eve. What are you doing here? Other than coming second in this battle of words, that is.

      ‘I did not barge in; I was invited.’ Pity Nick hadn’t landed him a punch, she thought wistfully.

      ‘I won’t make that mistake twice,’ he assured her.

      ‘I was hoping you’d display some remorse for causing Nick’s injuries and for treating me so appallingly. We all know your hands and feet are lethal weapons. You didn’t need to beat up on a teenager to prove it.’

      ‘Past tense, I see…you’ve decided my character’s as black as your hair, I suppose?’

      On impulse he flicked the feathery end of one ebony curl that lay against her temple. There was a definite blue sheen to her hair when the weak winter light caught it. Against his fingers the texture was just as silky as it appeared. Eve leapt back as if he’d struck her.

      ‘Don’t touch me!’ she breathed, shaking her head to dispel the warm, muzzy sensation that filled her brain. The messages whizzing around in her head seemed to be having trouble connecting.

      Drew Cummings held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Sounds like the best advice I’ve had all day.’ He didn’t go in for spontaneous physical contact with strangers, and he felt annoyed with himself for doing so now. ‘Tell me, do you always act like something out of a Victorian melodrama? It must get exhausting living with you.’

      Eve chewed down hard on her full underlip, well aware that her instinctive response had been way over the top. ‘I think it’s perfectly legitimate for me to be nervous after you manhandled me earlier.’

      ‘I was as gentle as a lamb. Remarkably restrained, actually.’

      ‘Really?’ she said scornfully. She lifted both hands and let the sleeves of her thin top fall back. ‘Pardon my scepticism.’ The faint blue discoloration made by his fingertips showed clearly on the pale skin of her wrists.

      His vivid blue eyes deepened abruptly to navy blue, and a deep line appeared between his brows. ‘I didn’t do that.’ His voice held an edge of revulsion.

      The impact her display had made surprised Eve. She’d expected some slick, sarcastic retort. ‘No? Let your mind slip back a few hours. You were hauling me about like a sack of coal.’

      ‘God, I’m really sorry. I had no idea.’ He reached out and firmly took her hands. Eve searched his face curiously and saw only genuine concern. This wasn’t just a line he was shooting her, she realised. He really was sorry. ‘Dear God, you must be fragile. I can only say it was unintentional.’

      Her slim build hid a wiry strength, not on a par with his, but nonetheless she was no delicate flower. Eve didn’t point this out. The constriction in her throat made it hard to point anything out.

      This time she didn’t recoil. That strange slow motion thing was happening again, and she didn’t have the will or desire to fight it. She let herself go with the flow. Drew turned her arm slowly over and back again, examining the blue-veined inner aspect of her forearm. His own hands were nicely shaped—big, capable hands, with long, tapering fingers.

      ‘There’s no need to make a fuss about it,’ she began, trying to put some emphasis into her husky-sounding voice. She could see the fine lines which time would etch deeper radiating from the corners of his eyes. Letting her flickering, wary gaze dwell on the deep azure warmth of his eyes made her feel dizzy. On the whole she had felt a lot better when those eyes had been ice chips. A man holding your hand should have no effect whatsoever on the stability of your knees, she told herself sternly—it made no sense at all.

      He’d had enough time to make a map of the area by now! The soft contact was incredibly abrasive to her vulnerable nerve-endings. Nobody would have guessed from the activity of her heart that she was in the peak of physical condition. This wayward organ was pumping at a rate of knots, and her breath was coming in short breathy gasps.

      What did he think he was doing anyhow? Running fingers that had never seen an honest day’s work in their lives over her skin. Eve had had some very uncomfortable interviews with bankers in her time. More important, what was she doing letting him?

      ‘It’s nothing…I bruise easily. I only told you to make you feel guilty.’ She didn’t add that she hadn’t expected to succeed.

      ‘You smell…’ His voice was kind of distracted, and when he lifted his head from his prolonged contemplation of his handiwork she saw his blue eyes were still burning with a very worrying light. Eve thought it wise not to dwell too long on those hot, hungry eyes.

      ‘I’m sorry my personal hygiene doesn’t meet with your approval.’ She dredged around and from somewhere managed to find sarcasm.

      ‘Nice,’ he growled. ‘You smell nice. I don’t recognise the perfume.’ Without actually touching her he inclined his head to breathe in the fragrance of her hair. The sudden compulsion bothered him—annoyed him. And it showed in the downturn of his lips.

      ‘It’s soap. Probably the medicated one I bought for Nick’s acne,’ she elaborated prosaically. Flat-out