LITMIR.BIZ

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himself.

      Liberty didn’t want to puncture his bubble but she felt she had to say something. ‘I’m not so sure about that,’ she said with a smile to soften her words. ‘The man who ran into me—I’ll give you three guesses who it was, but his name begins with B and ends with E.’

      ‘Never!’ Her father stared at her. ‘You don’t mean…’

      ‘And he was driving the most beautiful Mercedes,’ Liberty said ruefully. ‘Or at least it was until my little car had the temerity to jump out in front of it.’

      ‘Oh, Libby.’ Her father had clearly told Joan about the accident because now the other woman put her hand on Liberty’s arm. ‘Was he okay about it? He isn’t going to be awkward, is he? We can leave if you feel uncomfortable.’

      ‘No, not at all,’ Liberty said hastily. ‘He was very good, actually.’ Apart from making her feel two inches tall. Which she had probably thoroughly deserved, she admitted silently, but that didn’t make it any easier to take. ‘And we couldn’t possibly leave without dessert anyway,’ she added brightly.

      ‘I do love my puddings.’ Joan pulled a face. ‘As is pretty obvious. I’d love to be as slim as you but even from a small child I’ve been this shape.’

      ‘You’re a perfect shape,’ her father cut in before Liberty could say anything. ‘Don’t you dare change a thing about yourself, you hear me? I can’t abide women who exist on a lettuce leaf all day. My surgery is full of them all saying they’ve got stress or nerves or whatever, when what they really need is a few suet puddings and a dumpling or two.’

      ‘Oh, David.’

      Joan was giggling now, but even as Liberty joined in their laughter she found she was envying the older woman with all her heart. To be loved utterly for yourself by your partner in life—how many women were ever lucky enough to find that? Her work brought her into contact with masses of women who had been dumped for a younger model by their husbands, and it worked the other way too. Her own mother was proof of that. She had made up her mind years ago that true love was a fantasy, something which was warm and comforting and wonderful in novels and fairy tales, but not part of the real world. But now, looking at her father and Joan, she was forced to admit there could be exceptions to the rule. But then her father was special; she’d always known that.

      Liberty was very careful not to let her eyes stray to that other table while they continued with their meal, but she found herself draining three glasses of wine for Dutch courage. It was delicious wine—everything was delicious—but as she stood up to go to the ladies cloakroom before their coffee and brandy was served, she realised it was also very potent.

      Aware that her vertiginous sandals were more than able to tip her over if she didn’t concentrate hard, she made her way to the cloakroom with decorous sedateness, every muscle in her body under rigid control. Wouldn’t he just love it if the dopey lamebrain—as she was sure he thought of her—ended up in a pile at his feet, proving she was just as dizzy and empty-headed as he suspected, she told herself bitterly.

      Once in the luxurious marble surrounds she gazed about her. She remembered the awe she’d felt on her first visit here and now this was compounded by the knowledge that Carter Blake owned it all. He must be loaded, utterly loaded. Was Carmen Lapotiaze his lover?

      She caught at the thought, angry with herself for speculating even as she answered; of course she would be. Probably one of many. Sexual magnetism had literally oozed from the man and there had been a wealth of experience in that rugged face. A tiny shiver curled down her spine and she resolutely banished all further conjecture. Carter Blake was absolutely nothing to do with her and his sex life even less so!

      She fiddled with her hair and applied a touch of lipstick before leaving the cloakroom, delaying the moment she had to re-emerge even as she berated her cowardice. She hated to admit it, but every mouthful of food and sip of wine had been accompanied by an almost painful awareness of the tall, dark figure sitting some distance away, and even when she had been conversing with her father and Joan her ears had been tuned in for the laughter which emanated from his table now and again. That was bad enough, but it was all the more galling because he had, no doubt, put her out of his mind immediately after that one brief polite smile. Certainly she didn’t think he’d looked her way again.

      Her toilette completed, she shut the clasp of her evening bag with a little snap and squared her shoulders. She had already told her father she needed to be at the office early the next morning—which was perfectly true—and that she would be leaving shortly after coffee was finished. The main reason for this was to leave the two lovebirds alone to dance and enjoy themselves, but since Carter had appeared on the scene wild horses wouldn’t have kept her in the nightclub.

      She opened the door of the cloakroom, stepping out into the thickly carpeted foyer and then nearly jumping out of her skin as a hand closed over her wrist.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ Carter said at the side of her. ‘Did I startle you?’

      ‘Of course you startled me,’ she said crisply, pulling her arm away and refusing to be intimidated by the height and breadth of him. She also refused to reflect on the fact that, attractive and compelling as he had been earlier that afternoon, he was doubly so in the white tuxedo which sat on the big body with designer ease. ‘I’m not used to people creeping up behind me.’ She frowned at him to make sure he knew she was serious.

      ‘I don’t think I’ve ever crept in my life,’ he answered with a silky amusement which immediately caught her on the raw.

      ‘Really.’ She surveyed him through unfriendly brown eyes. ‘Look, if you’re hoping I’ve got my details on me, forget it. This bag holds a lipstick and comb and little else.’

      He didn’t spare the silk purse a glance. Instead he continued to observe her with a scrutiny which was unnerving before he said, ‘The accident was your fault, not mine. We’ve already established that. That being the case, why are you so hostile, Miss Fox?’

      Liberty stiffened. ‘I don’t know what you are talking about. I am most certainly not hostile.’

      ‘No?’ The dark face was overtly mocking.

      ‘No.’ It was a sharp snap.

      She glared at him, and then was further annoyed and taken aback when he laughed softly, his firm mouth curving to reveal even white teeth. ‘I blame the hair.’

      ‘What?’ He had completely lost her and it showed.

      ‘Red always makes for fireworks,’ he drawled easily.

      Always? Always? He was comparing her to other women he had known, probably even bedded? She drew herself up to her full five feet eight inches, which unfortunately wasn’t as commanding as it would have been with a man of lesser height, and said coldly, ‘What is it that you want, Mr Blake?’

      The black eyebrows rose a fraction. ‘What is it you are offering, Miss Fox?’

      Irritating man! ‘You know what I mean,’ she said primly.

      ‘I’m not sure I do,’ he murmured, studying her angry face with hidden fascination. He had been right about the hair—it was glorious. Rich and glowing with a sheen on it like pure silk. And the way it framed her face, bringing out the porcelain quality to that perfect skin and the darkness of her eyes. How could he have thought for a moment she was in any way ordinary?

      ‘You were obviously waiting here for me. Why?’

      ‘You don’t think it possible I was passing through to the men’s cloakroom and noticed you?’ he asked blandly, indicating a door at the far end of the foyer.

      She stared at him, suddenly feeling a complete idiot. Again. Something she was getting used to when she was round this man. Why on earth would he be waiting for her when he was with Carmen Lapotiaze? She must have been mad to think it for a second and even crazier to say so. She took a deep breath and prayed her face wasn’t as fiery as it felt. Then she didn’t know what to say.

      Carter

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