Sharon Kendrick Collection. Sharon Kendrick

closed her eyes briefly in an attempt to calm herself—something which was impossible when confronted with that cool silver gaze—and when she opened them again something of her usual resilience had returned.

      ‘Why don’t you answer my original question, Dominic?’ she said, fixing him firmly with a velvet brown stare. ‘And tell me exactly why you want me—of all people—to organise your party for you.’

      He knitted his fingers together in front of his chest in an attitude of contemplation. ‘Because you have a talent.’ He laughed as he saw her mouth fall open, but the laugh was cold and cynical. ‘Oh, don’t worry, Romy! I’m not referring to your tactile and highly responsive nature, but rather to your skills as a party planner. When I asked around for the best person to organise a rather special weekend house party your name came up every time.’

      ‘And that’s the only reason you want to employ me, is it?’ quizzed Romy. ‘Because I happen to be the best at what I do?’

      ‘Why would there be any other reason?’ he asked coolly.

      ‘Because I remember the way you looked at me when we were rescued from the lift!’ Romy cried, recalling only too well the stinging and cringing shame she had experienced. She would never forget that icy look of disgust he had directed at her. Never—not as long as she lived! ‘As though I was the lowest form of life which had just crawled out from underneath the nearest rock!’

      ‘Did I?’

      ‘You know damned well you did! And at the wedding too...afterwards...’

      Somehow she had endured his stony stare throughout the entire ceremony and had thought that no worse test could befall her, but she had been wrong.

      Outside the church afterwards, in the flurry of confetti and photographers, Dominic had turned to Mark and said casually, ‘May I kiss your wife?’

      And Romy had watched Mark reply easily, ‘Sure—be my guest.’

      She had tried to present Dominic with one cool, pale cheek, but he was having none of it. He’d even had the temerity to joke out loud about it!

      ‘Oh, come on, Romy,’ he had drawled, and she had almost recoiled from the ice-cold accusation in his eyes. ‘Surely, as best man, I deserve a proper kiss?’

      He had emphasised the word ‘deserve’ so that it had a double meaning which none of the assembled guests would understand. And in a way that had made things even worse than they already were. The secret little messages which were passing between the two of them had only seemed to add to their conspiracy and collusion.

      He had gently pulled her into his arms, had moved the billowing white veil aside and planted a swift kiss directly onto her mouth. To an outsider, it had probably looked like the most innocent peck, but Romy had known differently.

      For in that brief, blazing kiss he had somehow managed to convey all the revulsion he clearly felt for her.

      And himself.

      But what had been even more humiliating was her reaction to his display of distaste. Just the touch of his lips briefly covering her mouth had been enough to start her trembling as she’d recalled exactly what she had allowed him to do to her on the eve of her wedding.

      And he had looked deep into her eyes and had known—yes, known—that she still wanted him.

      Was that why he had brought her here today? To settle an old score? She stared at him now, trying to hide her distraction. ‘Do you really expect me to work for you, Dominic? After everything that has happened between us?’

      ‘Are you saying you would find it a problem, then?’

      ‘Are you mad? Of course I would find it a problem!’

      ‘Then why are you here?’ he questioned coolly. ‘You came to be interviewed about taking the job knowing my identity. I know for a fact that you don’t need the money—after all, one of the reasons you married Mark was to get your greedy little hands on his money, wasn’t it? So why? Why even consider it?’

      Romy drew a deep breath, deciding to ignore his unjust accusation about Mark’s money. If she denied it, he wouldn’t believe her—so why bother? Everything Romy owned, she had earned herself. And as for the question of why she was here, well, that was a question she could only partly bear to answer.

      ‘Because on the bright, clear landscape of my life,’ she declared passionately, ‘you are the only blot on the horizon!’

      Her words didn’t cause a flicker of reaction. He simply continued to subject her to that disturbingly impartial stare.

      ‘Really? I find that difficult to believe,’ he said softly, then saw her face. ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong—I can see exactly why you have such a burning aversion to me and yet at the same time a need to exorcise me from your memory. But I would have thought that there was a far bigger blot on your life—a blot, moreover, that is now impossible to erase.’

      She knew from his accusing tone exactly what he meant, but still she had the masochistic need to hear him say it. ‘What are you talking about?’

      ‘I’m talking about Mark!’ he seethed. ‘Mark, the man you went ahead and cuckolded the day before you married him! Maybe that, in itself, was understandable,’ he ground out, ‘in someone with a higher than average libido—which I am assuming you must have, if satisfaction comes so easily and so bizarrely to you. But even after having let me touch you in that way, do all the things I did, you still didn’t have the decency to make what amends you could, did you, Romy? To do the right thing by Mark—’

      ‘And how should I have done the right thing by Mark, Dominic?’ Romy questioned, her voice carrying all the emotional range of a robot.

      ‘By damn well cancelling the wedding!’ he lashed back. ‘By telling him you couldn’t go through with it! But oh, no, that was out of the question, wasn’t it? Romy Salisbury saw marriage to a rich man like Mark as an out—and you wanted out badly, didn’t you, sweetheart? So badly that you were prepared to go into marriage with something like that on your conscience!’

      ‘Are you suggesting that I used marriage to Mark as an escape route?’

      ‘What do you think?’ came the sardonic retort. ‘You were well-known for having a turbulent background. A shallow, promiscuous mother—’

      She covered her ears with her hands, but it did no good, for his deep voice penetrated as it continued to denounce her.

      ‘Mounting debts, the threat of eviction...’

      ‘H-how the hell did you find all that out?’ demanded Romy in a trembling voice.

      His mouth twisted with scorn. ‘Facts are easy to establish if you go about it in the right way.’

      ‘Then why? What good could it possibly have done you? Why dig into my background?’

      ‘Why?’ He shot her an incredulous stare. ‘Because the whole situation was mad, and I needed to make some sense out of the madness. I needed to know why a young and beautiful girl would, in this day and age, enter into the already precarious institution of marriage when the foundations of your relationship with Mark were about as stable as quicksand. That’s why, Romy!’

      ‘I see.’

      ‘Do you?’ he demanded sarcastically. ‘Tell me—are you always so reasonable? Or are there times at the dead of night when the burden of guilt gets too much? When you pace the floor-blaming yourself for Mark’s death?’

      ‘Have you quite finished?’ she demanded.

      ‘Not really, no.’ He gave a low, bitter laugh which made Romy shiver beneath the soft material of her jacket. ‘I haven’t even started, sweetheart.’

      The way his tongue sensually caressed the word ‘sweetheart’ made Romy begin to tingle with a sexual awareness she had thought long dead. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not. Because