The Prospective Wife. KIM LAWRENCE

afternoons, Kathleen?’

      He had the sort of voice that could effortlessly make a girl believe he could fulfil all her hopes. Her eyes widened with alarm as the stray thought just popped into her head from God knew where!

      ‘The usual things,’ she responded, gruffly evasive.

      ‘Like a husband, children, nice house in the suburbs…?’ he speculated. ‘The traditional female things.’

      His patronising attitude really got under her skin. ‘Those being things that no man worthy of his testosterone would desire…?’

      ‘How many teenage boys would list becoming a father as one of their ambitions…?’ One dark brow quirked scornfully when she didn’t respond. His broad shoulders lifted expressively. ‘I rest my case.’

      ‘It’s just as well one gender feels the urge to procreate or the human race wouldn’t last long.’

      ‘Men feel urges, all right, but it’s impregnation and not procreation that drives them,’ he explained crudely.

      Kat felt herself blush like an adolescent; the fact her blushes seemed to amuse him only intensified her discomfort. She couldn’t figure out how what had started out as a perfectly innocent conversation had degenerated into something so uncomfortable.

      ‘Perhaps I have a higher regard for your own sex than you do.’

      ‘Then more fool you, Kat. Fidelity is an alien concept to the vast majority of men.’

      ‘Perhaps, Mr Devlin, you judge all men by your own failings…’

      ‘I’m an arrogant male, Kat. What makes you imagine I think I’ve got any failings?’ he drawled. His deep laughter rang out once more before his brows drew into a disapproving line. ‘And I thought we’d dispensed with the Mr Devlin.’

      Kat’s tongue ran nervously over the outline of her dry lips.

      ‘Do I make you nervous, Kathleen?’

      Wasn’t that the idea?

      It was the one question she would have liked to avoid, and he’d made her face it. Resentment reflected in her eyes, she met his deceptively innocent blue gaze warily… He made her incredibly jumpy and had done from the first moment.

      ‘It’s hardly surprising that I don’t feel comfortable,’ she responded carefully. ‘You’ve made it quite clear I’m here under sufferance.’

      Casually he flicked her softly rounded chin. ‘When you know me better…’

      ‘I can hardly wait!’ she mumbled.

      Her face averted, Kat brushed some invisible specks off the dark grey trousers she wore beneath a white tee-shirt. She rose smoothly to her feet. It ought to give at least the illusion of superiority to look down at him… It didn’t. The slow charismatic grin that split his lean face held her dismayed gaze as surely as Superglue.

      ‘You’ll know I’m not big on forbearance. You’re not here because I feel charitable. It’ll be interesting to find out if you’re half as good as you say you are…’ He watched the colour mount in her cheeks. ‘Professionally speaking, of course,’ he added smoothly.

      She couldn’t wait to prove her worth to this sarcastic swine… Of course, if she could have done it from the comparative safety of the neighbouring county, she’d have been even more eager! Inexplicably, she couldn’t concentrate all that well in the same room as him… Inexplicable, my foot! a small derisive voice in her head scoffed. You can’t keep your eyes off him and you’re worried to death you won’t be able to hide it when things get tactile.

      ‘When did you have in mind?’ she asked, her voice brisk to the point of brusqueness. ‘I’ll need to assess your capabilities, to begin with,’ she explained stolidly, ‘and work out a schedule that suits us….’

      Matt rose with creditable style to his feet, unassisted. ‘There’s plenty of time for that later…’ He turned his wrist and glanced at the metal-banded wristwatch. His eyes moved to the antique gilded ormolu clock set on the mantelshelf. ‘Still slow,’ he confirmed, comparing the two times. ‘I knocked it off with a football when I was a kid; it’s never kept time since.’

      In her mind’s eye Kat softened the hard angles of his face and came up with a soft childish version. Had he been a serious little boy, or a bit wild…?

      ‘I’m afraid I’m expecting some visitors…business. Later, I’m all yours.’ There was nothing childlike or innocent about the gleam in his eyes.

      ‘There are a lot of things we need to discuss,’ she choked, pulling her wayward imagination in line—it wasn’t easy.

      ‘Discuss away…I can give you three minutes.’

      ‘How kind,’ she bit back acidly. ‘I’d better talk fast then, hadn’t I? For starters, what hours do you expect me to work? When is my free time…?’

      ‘You’ve not started yet and you’re already asking for a day off…!’ He shook his head in mock reproof. ‘What happened to stamina? What happened to dedication?’

      ‘What happened to reasonable working conditions?’ she came back smartly. ‘I already feel as if I’ve been on duty for a twenty-four-hour stretch…’ Just talking to this man was amongst the most exhausting things she’d ever done. ‘I wonder why?’ No wonder Drusilla had laughed when she’d said she’d earn her money!

      ‘Fine; let’s get down to basics. I’m flexible. I don’t like to tie myself down to specific times; I like people around me to be flexible too.’

      ‘Which means what, exactly?’

      ‘Which means I need you to be on twenty-four-hour call.’

      Have no time to call her own? Be at his beck and call night and day with no time off for good behaviour…? That was so not on!