Carole Mortimer Romance Collection. Carole Mortimer

for Cyn was that, for all the other girl’s bravado as to her reason for calling, Cyn could almost guarantee that Wolf was the last person Rebecca would want to know about this telephone call. And as they were still connected, and Cyn had no way of letting the other girl know of her fiancé’s arrival without at the same time alerting Wolf to the identity of the person on the other end of the line, Cyn wasn’t quite sure what to do next!

      She watched Wolf as he came fully into the office, closing the door firmly behind him, standing across the room to look at her with haughty disdain as he waited for her to end the call. As end it she surely must. And as quickly as possible.

      ‘Lunch sounds fine,’ she somehow managed to answer Rebecca, although she could hear the strain in her own voice as she tried to sound normal. ‘Perhaps you could name a restaurant that would be convenient for both of us?’ she added lightly, all the time watching Wolf as he moved about the office now, occasionally picking things up to examine them before discarding them again, as if he had had no real interest in them in the first place. As, indeed, he probably hadn’t. She had bridal books, printers’ books, schedules, all littered about the gaily decorated office, its pink and cream wallpaper and paint applied by Cyn herself; she hadn’t been able to afford to pay a professional after putting down her first years’ rent on the office itself! The disdainful twist of Wolf’s harshly etched lips seemed to say he was well aware of the amateurish attempt she had made at decorating. He turned back to her now, dark blond brows raised pointedly as she still remained on the telephone.

      Cyn would gladly end the call, if Rebecca would just name a restaurant. The sooner she got this meeting with Wolf over and done with the better. And after it, her meeting with Rebecca would probably be superfluous anyway: Wolf hadn’t said so at the time, but Cyn was sure she was the last person he wanted involved in the organisation of his wedding to Rebecca.

      Thank goodness Janie had gone out for a late lunch on their return, otherwise her assistant would have been agog with curiosity as to the reason for Wolf Thornton calling on Cyn here after they had so recently spoken at his fiancé’s house. Cyn certainly had no intention of explaining to the girl that there were certain things Wolf would like to say to her that he wouldn’t want anyone else to be witness to!

      ‘How about the Ritz?’ Rebecca finally suggested after what seemed to Cyn like an extraordinarily long time. It probably wasn’t, but with Wolf still prowling around the room, it certainly seemed that way!

      And the Ritz was hardly ‘convenient to both of them,’ or indeed within Cyn’s budget, but as this was to be a business meeting it would have to go on expenses; she certainly couldn’t waste the time—or, indeed, give away Rebecca’s identity—by suggesting somewhere else.

      ‘Fine,’ she accepted tersely. ‘Twelve-thirty tomorrow,’ she ended the call, putting the receiver down abruptly before turning to look at Wolf where he had moved around behind her now, studying the wall-chart she had of future bookings for the services of Perfect Bliss. Several dinner parties were also booked down during the more barren weeks.

      He turned to her abruptly now, his golden-brown gaze rapier-sharp as it raked over her contemptuously, making Cyn very aware of the slightly windswept appearance of her silver-blond hair as it fell in soft waves to her shoulders, the colour made to look even lighter against the dark violet of her blouse. Her lips, she knew, would be bare of lip-gloss too, as she had just drunk the mug of coffee she had made to tide herself over until she went out for her own lunch once Janie returned.

      This wasn’t how she had wanted to see Wolf again, but then she hadn’t been expecting to see him again so soon. She should have remembered that Wolf always did the unexpected.

      Her jaw rose defensively as she deliberately met the cold disdain of his gaze. ‘What are you doing here, Wolf?’ she challenged, her voice—thank goodness—not showing by so much as a quiver how much his presence here unnerved her. And unnerve her it did. The two of them were completely alone here, with not much chance of an early reprieve for Cyn.

      His mouth twisted, accentuating those deep grooves in his cheeks. ‘You surely didn’t think our conversation was over?’ he drawled derisively, giving her a pitying look now for her naïveté.

      She drew in a ragged breath. ‘Which conversation would that be, Wolf?’ She arched blond brows questioningly. ‘The one from this morning—or the one from seven years ago?’

      If she had thought he looked harshly remote before then now he looked positively icy, his eyes hard gold orbs, his mouth a thin slash of anger, his jaw clenched at an aggressive angle.

      ‘The two are surely connected?’ he bit out through clenched teeth, as if it was taking every effort of will on his part to stop himself from physically hauling her out of the chair, lifting her completely off her feet, and shaking her until her teeth rattled.

      Cyn forced herself to remain seated, when what she really wanted to do was jump out of the chair and run, just run and run, until she was sure this man couldn’t catch her. But as she knew from experience, if Wolf really wanted to catch up with someone then he would.

      So instead of running she gave a dismissive movement of her head. ‘I don’t see how,’ she shrugged, her fingers white as she held tightly on to the pen she had been using to work with when Rebecca’s call came in.

      Wolf’s eyes narrowed on the pale defiance of her face. ‘Was that Gerald on the phone just now, arranging to have lunch with you tomorrow?’

      The change of subject was so totally unexpected that for a moment Cyn was taken aback at the sudden twist, then a resentful flush darkened her cheeks. ‘Whether it was or it wasn’t is none of your business, Wolf,’ she told him as she finally stood up—not that it gave her much of an advantage, as Wolf still overshadowed her by more than a foot. But at least she was mobile now if the need to run should become a necessity! ‘I can have lunch with whoever I damn well please,’ she added defiantly. She was sure it wouldn’t even occur to him that it was Rebecca Harcourt who had arranged to meet her for lunch tomorrow. And she had no intention of telling him that little fact either!

      One of his hands moved so fast that Cyn was barely aware of the movement, although she couldn’t mistake his grasp on her wrist as his long fingers curled about her tender flesh like steel bands. Just as she couldn’t mistake the warm flush that suddenly emanated through her body at the touch of those long tapered fingers, which she knew could caress with such tenderness, move over the soft curves of her body with such—

      No! She hadn’t thought about Wolf in that way for seven years, hadn’t allowed herself that luxury, and to do so now, when he was about to marry another woman, was sheer madness!

      ‘Let go of me, Wolf,’ she instructed tautly, unable to look into the dark tormented beauty of his face, staring down at the spot where his flesh touched hers, his hand so dark against her much paler skin.

      Again long-denied memories came flooding back to pain her, and, with a strength she hadn’t known she was capable of, she wrenched her arm out of his grasp, the pain this caused her a physical one rather than an emotional one. And she could deal with the physical pain so much more easily than the emotional one this man had once inflicted on her; she knew that the bruises on her skin would fade, that the inner ones never would.

      ‘How is your family, Wolf?’ she asked with disdain, her expression one of challenge.

      His eyes glazed over coldly. ‘Family?’ he repeated, dangerously soft. ‘There’s only my mother and Barbara now.’

      Only his mother and Barbara? There didn’t need to be anyone else; the pair were formidable enough on their own!

      Cyn gave an acknowledging inclination of her head. ‘And how are they?’

      His mouth twisted. ‘Do you really care?’

      No, she didn’t care in the least, but at least the mention of the two of them had diverted his attention away from the source of that telephone call he had just interrupted. ‘No,’ she answered truthfully, unflinching as the dangerous glitter deepened in his eyes, remembering all too well the dislike