Perfect Partner. Кэрол Мортимер

silently fumed at him as they travelled to her home. Arrogant fool! And she was even more of a fool for letting him affect her in this way.

      ‘Are you going to invite me in for coffee?’ he asked once they were parked outside her home.

      ‘Not tonight. I—I’m a little tired,’ she feigned weariness.

      One of those long artistic hands came out and touched her pale cheek. ‘All right, Juliet.’ That attractively curved mouth was once more coming her way. ‘God, I want you badly,’ he told her before kissing her with a savagery designed to take her breath away.

      But it didn’t. This time she was ready for him, her anger stopping her from responding, the sheer audacity of the man making her furious. He wanted her! And no doubt he thought it would be easy to get her into bed with him. He was in for a surprise if he really thought that. She wouldn’t be taken unawares again.

      He moved back, shrugging at her lack of response. ‘As you say, you’re tired. So I’ll say goodbye until tomorrow.’

      Juliet hastily left the intimacy of the car, forcing herself to turn and wave to Jake before he drove off. She had been wrong about him, he was a typical male chauvinistic pig if ever she had met one! And she had met plenty of them in the past, although Jake Matthews came a definite first for chauvinism.

      He was the type of man she most despised, after all, the sort of man who didn’t think women had a brain, that they were only there to cook and provide sexual pleasure for men. She always liked to be an equal partner in her relationships with men, in fact she insisted on it, and as far as Jake Matthews was concerned she hadn’t been allowed to make one decision for herself. She didn’t know what sort of women he was usually attracted to, but she certainly wasn’t one of those women who were just grateful to be thought worthy of sharing the television personality’s bed.

      The telephone was ringing when she entered her flat, and she didn’t need two guesses who it was. ‘Hello, Melanie,’ she greeted dryly, sitting down in the chair next to the telephone, knowing from experience how long Melanie’s telephone calls usually were.

      ‘Hello.’ Her friend wasn’t in the least abashed that she had known it was her. ‘I just called to see how Jake enjoyed kissing that dried-up old spinster Caroline Miles. He did kiss you, didn’t he?’ Melanie asked excitedly.