To Tame the Playboy - Kate Hardy Mills & Boon By Request

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in the distance she’d heard voices and as she came down the wide staircase she saw Sebastian standing in the hall talking to another man. Fleur hesitated for a second, wondering whether to turn and go back to her room, or to go on down and be introduced to the newcomer. She didn’t have long to make up her mind, because both men looked up and watched her descend gracefully. It was the expression on Sebastian’s face that made her catch her breath, and he came forward at once.

      ‘Ah, Fleur…meet an old friend of mine, Rudolph Malone…We’ve been fairly close neighbours for yonks, haven’t we, Rudy? And this…this is Fleur—one of Mia’s cohorts, Rudy.’

      The man came towards Fleur with his rather pale, podgy hand outstretched in greeting. ‘Well, well…you never fail to surprise me, Sebastian,’ he said. ‘Where did you find this one, may I ask? You must let me know your source of supply!’

      He was rather a short individual, Fleur noted, with indeterminate brown hair and a face which was dominated by rather thick lips. She supposed that he wasn’t that bad-looking but, comparing him to the god-like Sebastian, he didn’t have much of a chance. She let him hold her hand for longer than was necessary, before pulling away and smiling up uncertainly.

      ‘I told you, I didn’t find Fleur—she’s a friend of Mia’s. And staying for a short holiday before she heads back to London and a very exacting position in the field of medical research,’ Sebastian replied.

      ‘Well, well,’ Rudy said again. ‘How convenient that you happen to be here as well, old chap. You said that Mia had already returned?’

      ‘I did. She has,’ Sebastian replied, almost rudely, Fleur thought. She saw that his expression had darkened considerably in the last few moments—perhaps this man wasn’t liked here, she thought. So what was he doing here?

      As if in answer to her unspoken question, Sebastian said, ‘Rudy works in London too, Fleur, and he’s also having a break at home.’ He paused, as if regretting the next thing he was going to say. ‘And, since we haven’t seen each other for a couple of years—well, not to chat to anyway—he’s going to stay and have supper with us this evening.’

      ‘Aren’t I the lucky one,’ Rudy murmured. ‘I shall insist on being allowed to sit very close to your charming visitor, Sebastian. You won’t deny me, will you?’

      The man hadn’t taken his eyes off Fleur from the moment he’d seen her, and suddenly she felt uneasy…She’d met his slimy sort before—the sort she avoided at all costs.

      Pat called from the kitchen, ‘Supper’s ready—I’ve laid up in the dining room.’ Fleur knew that Pat would have been pleased to do that because she jumped at every opportunity to do things properly, and together the three of them strolled along the passageway and took their places at the table. Fleur couldn’t help admiring everything—the shining cutlery and glassware, the single decorative candle and a sweet arrangement of holly leaves and berries and Christmas roses in a small bowl in the centre. Yes, Pat would love that watering can, Fleur thought.

      The meal was delicious, marred only for Fleur by Rudy’s proximity to her. He seemed gifted at being able to make their knees, their thighs, touch occasionally, and she tried not to shudder each time he did it. He hadn’t waited to be asked where he should sit, but had plonked himself down on the chair next to her, half-turning so that he could look into her eyes.

      ‘I know the sort of food that gets served up in this place,’ he said, ‘but the only feast I’ll need is to look at my charming neighbour. That will be food enough!’

      ‘Shut up, Rudy,’ Sebastian said. ‘Turn it off, for Pete’s sake.’ He looked over at Fleur. ‘Rudy inhabits the theatrical world,’ he said. ‘As if you needed telling.’

      Fleur wished fervently that she’d decided to dress more casually. All the daft compliments which were being thrown at her were making her feel awkward, and she hated being admired by the absurd man sitting next to her. Once or twice she caught Sebastian’s eye, but the usual rather intimate look she’d become used to him sending her didn’t seem to be there. He looked as uncomfortable as she was feeling, a coldness in his expression making her feel unsure of herself.

      Sebastian admitted to feeling absolutely furious that he’d been more or less obliged to invite Rudolph Malone to supper. Why hadn’t he just offered the man a drink and sent him on his way? Why should this lovely day have to be spoilt by an intruder—an intruder who was making one pass after another at Fleur? If he hadn’t been so quick with his offer of hospitality, it needn’t have happened. He speared a morsel of meat savagely with his fork. Good grief—was he jealous? Jealous that he was having to share Fleur with another man, even for one evening? What the hell was going on?

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      THE following morning, Fleur woke up later than usual. At midnight, she’d eventually excused herself but had not been able to get to sleep. Rudolph Malone’s rather annoying voice—not to mention his persistent and unwelcome flattery—had stayed in her mind like a record that had become stuck in the groove. She couldn’t imagine how on earth he could possibly be a friend of Sebastian’s, but as they were long-time neighbours she supposed it was a social obligation to offer hospitality now and then.

      She frowned briefly as she showered and got dressed. Sebastian had seemed distinctly on edge a few times during the evening…she’d noticed a look on his face that was undeniably dark and moody. After all, she thought, as she brushed out her hair and began working it quickly into one long plait, if he really disliked Rudolph Malone’s company that much, why ask the man to supper? He could have made some excuse, surely? She bit her lip. She’d found Sebastian’s overt coolness a touch embarrassing. It had made her feel awkward, though she wasn’t really surprised, not when she thought about it. Her host was the type who didn’t suffer fools gladly, and it seemed obvious to her that Rudy fell quite easily into that category. She stopped what she was doing for a moment and stared at herself in the mirror. The two men could not have been more different, she thought. Rudy was smooth-tongued, his languid gaze as he’d kept on studying her unashamedly making her cringe, his touchy-feely mannerisms distinctly offensive. While Sebastian…Well, Sebastian was something else entirely…

      Then she coloured up, remembering the way his lips had found hers a couple of nights ago, the way he’d practically wrapped himself around her so closely she’d actually been aware of his heart hammering against her breast. But…had it really happened? Because neither of them had referred to it since, which was so incredibly odd. Then she shrugged. Who cared, anyway? She was going home tomorrow. It was time to move away, move on. With no emotional complications.

      Anyway, she thought, as she went towards the door, a kiss was no big deal, surely—didn’t mean a thing. She paused for a second before going down the stairs. Liar, she thought. That had been no simple kiss. Sebastian Conway—no doubt highly experienced in the art—had filled her whole body with such intense longing he could have taken her that night with no effort at all. And she felt ashamed to admit it. If she’d said yes, instead of no to him staying, what would that have done to her long-term plans? Because one-night stands were not for her, and never had been. If she and Sebastian had been lovers that night—as she’d known he’d wanted them to be—it would have been merely a passing pleasure to him. But not for her. It would have meant far more to her than that. Yes, it was certainly time to go home.

      When she went into the kitchen, she was surprised to see Sebastian there. It was gone nine-thirty—he always breakfasted far earlier than this. He was sitting at the table, turning the pages of a daily newspaper casually, his mug of coffee untouched. He barely looked up as she came in.

      ‘Morning, Sebastian,’ she said brightly, glancing down to see that her place had already been laid at the table.

      ‘Morning…er…Fleur…’ he replied, almost as if he’d forgotten her name! When he did look up, his eyes were totally impassive as they met hers. ‘I trust you slept well?’ he said briefly.

      Fleur’s heart sank for a moment. This was not the

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