Ice In His Veins. Carole Mortimer

definitely,’ Eden said forcibly. ‘I thought he was horrible.’

      ‘And you, Drew?’ his wife enquired. ‘What did you think of him?’

      He seemed to consider for a moment. ‘I thought he was—interesting.’

      ‘Interesting!’ she scorned. ‘What sort of an answer is that?’

      He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t like to pass an opinion on him. On the surface he’s everything you said he was, but underneath—who knows? Jason Earle appears to me rather like an iceberg, ninety per cent of him below the surface.’

      ‘You mean that arrogance was only ten per cent of him?’ gasped Eden.

      Drew laughed at her expression. ‘Maybe twenty,’ he conceded.

      She shivered. ‘I hate to think what the other eighty per cent is like.’

      ‘I doubt if anyone knows that. He didn’t seem the type to let anyone even know what he’s thinking, let alone get close to him.’

      ‘Oh, don’t let’s talk about him any more,’ Angela dismissed. ‘He’s already ruined my lunch today, I have no intention of letting him do the same thing with my dinner.’

      Despite her mother’s dismissal of the man Eden was aware of a tension about them all as they ate their meal. She felt sure their thoughts were all running along similar lines—her grandfather’s sudden wish to see her after all these years of silence. She had forgotten she had any other family than her mother and Drew, even taking Drew’s surname for her own. She knew her real father had died when she was five years old; driving too fast on a slippery road he had driven straight into a tree and been killed instantly. As her mother had pointed out, his second marriage had produced no children, hence her grandfather’s interest in her now.

      She had to admit to a certain amount of curiosity about her family in England, a sneaky longing at the back of her mind to know exactly what sort of man her grandfather was. Her father must have been very weak to have been ruled by him as he had been, pointing to her grandfather having as forcible a nature as their visitor. No wonder they were friends!

      And yet her grandfather hadn’t made one enquiry about her in eighteen years, had never even bothered to ascertain whether she was alive or dead. To turn around now and ask to see her, to expect her to drop everything and rush over to England, seemed to her to be the height of arrogance. Besides, didn’t her father’s second wife still live in the same house as David Morton? And Jason Earle was the last person to send to persuade her to take that flight; everything about him had antagonised her.

      No, she had already told him she wouldn’t go and she meant it. Nothing he said to her tomorrow or any other time would make any difference to her decision.

      She was waiting in the lounge when Tim arrived for their date that evening, putting down the magazine she had been flicking through to move into his arms for his kiss. He was two years older than she was, and they had been dating for the last six weeks. Not very long really, but longer than most of her boy-friends lasted. Perhaps it was because she spent so much time in her stepfather’s company, but most of the boys she dated seemed childish after a while, always trying to get her into an intimate relationship and finishing with her when they realised she had no intention of sleeping with them.

      Tim was different, rich, self-assured, and very sophisticated for his age. She enjoyed his company immensely, found his light lovemaking pleasant, and hoped he felt the same way about her.

      She laughingly smoothed away some of her peach lipstick from his mouth. ‘Must remove the evidence,’ she teased.

      Tall and athletic, tanned skin, sun-bleached blond hair and the deepest blue eyes she had ever seen, Tim was every girl’s dream. He smiled down at her, that heart-melting smile that never failed to win over the women. Even her mother fell for it, approving of him wholeheartedly.

      He placed his lips on hers again. ‘Mm,’ he sighed against her parted mouth. ‘I don’t give a damn who knows I’ve been kissing you.’

      Eden snuggled against him. ‘Neither do I.’

      ‘Where are your parents tonight?’

      ‘Gone to the Merricks’ for the evening.’ She moved unhurriedly out of his arms.

      ‘Hey,’ he teased, flicking a curling tendril of hair away from her face, ‘I’m not about to attack you because we’re alone here!’

      She grinned at him, pulling on her short white linen jacket. ‘I know you aren’t.’ Their lovemaking had never gone beyond a passionate kiss and a tentative caress.

      Tim frowned. ‘I’m not sure I like that, this natural assumption you have that I wouldn’t even try.’

      She arched an eyebrow at him. ‘And would you?’

      ‘I might,’ he said slowly. ‘If I didn’t know three servants would come running at the first cry of rape.’

      Eden watched him below lowered lashes. ‘I’m not about to cry rape.’

      ‘You aren’t?’ His blue eyes quickened with interest.

      ‘No,’ she opened the door. ‘I’m about to go outside to your car,’ she laughingly left the room.

      Tim caught up with her outside, opening the car door for her before getting into the low sports car beside her. He turned to look at her in the darkness, the early snow lying about them outside like a white carpet. ‘You were teasing me in there, weren’t you?’

      Her golden eyes challenged him as she snuggled down into her linen jacket. ‘Was I?’ she asked throatily.

      He sighed, switching on the ignition to manoeuvre the car out into the steady flow of traffic. ‘Yes, you were.’

      Eden looked at him closely, noting a certain tension about his mouth. ‘Are you angry with me?’

      He sighed again, turning to give her a warm smile. ‘No, Eden, I’m not angry with you. But I wish you wouldn’t play with me. One of these days I’m going to take your teasing seriously.’

      ‘You mean…’

      ‘Yes, I mean! I know you’re an innocent, Eden, but I’m not. It can be quite a strain behaving like a gentleman. Not that I mind,’ he added hastily. ‘But it doesn’t help when you keep playing with me.’

      ‘I never realised…’ She looked at him with new eyes, not seeing him as the fun-loving partner of innocence of the past six weeks but as the young rich socialite that he was. Seeing him like this she could well imagine that there had been plenty of girls in his life who would give anything to become the wife of Tim Channing, heir to millions. It was something she had never thought about before, that showed him in a new light. And she wasn’t sure she liked it.

      ‘You aren’t that innocent, Eden,’ he scorned.

      She blushed in the darkness, glad he couldn’t see her confusion. ‘I didn’t mean that,’ she said impatiently. ‘I meant I didn’t realise about—about——’

      ‘The girls in my past,’ he finished for her. ‘You grow up quickly in the society I mix with.’

      She knew he was sophisticated for his age, had admired the way he always took control on their dates together, but it had never occurred to her that his relationships with other girls hadn’t been as innocent as their own friendship. Somehow this new knowledge frightened her, unnerved her, made her suddenly shy with him.

      It made her wonder if their mutual friends thought their relationship more intimate than it actually was. Colour flooded her cheeks at the thought. She couldn’t bear for people to think such things about her, no matter how erroneous those thoughts were.

      She looked down at her clenched hands. ‘I suppose so,’ she mumbled.

      Tim gave her a sharp look. ‘Hey, are you okay?’

      She