LITMIR.BIZ

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time…’ She broke off teasingly as she gave him a pointed look.

      Nik moved uncomfortably under that predatory gaze. ‘Yes…?’

      ‘Well, it’s strange, really,’ Jane confided huskily, once again touching his hand. ‘You’re actually mentioned by name too this time.’

      He stiffened warily. ‘I am?’

      ‘“Absolutely no further correspondence from Nik Prince to be forwarded on” was how I believe it was worded.’ She gave him an assessing look. ‘I think you must have really upset him with all your approaches regarding making the film.’

      No, he hadn’t upset Jackson Nixon—how could he have done when it was virtually impossible to meet the man? The person who was so annoyed with him was his daughter, Jinx. And Nik wasn’t altogether sure that it was a totally impersonal annoyance, either.

      There was no getting away from the fact that the two of them had had an explosive response to each other on Saturday evening. In fact, in any other circumstances, Nik was sure his pursuit of Jinx Nixon would have culminated in the most passionate affair he had ever been involved in. Something he was sure Jinx had been only too aware of, too.

      Jackson Nixon’s adamant refusal now to have any further contact with Nik, he was sure, had been instigated by his daughter’s reluctance to have any further contact with him!

      Making Nik all the more determined that he wouldn’t back off, either from Jackson Nixon or his beautiful daughter. The sooner he got Jinx into his bed, the easier this might all be resolved! In fact, just the thought of that slenderly curvaceous body curled nakedly in his arms was enough to arouse him.

      Which accounted for the reason, he told himself, that he felt so reluctant to accept Jane Morrow’s invitation to join her for coffee when he took her back to her apartment later that evening. ‘Coffee’ in this case, he knew, was really Jane’s way of inviting him into her bed—something, for all her touching and innuendos, he had so far managed to avoid. And intended continuing to do so! Because at the moment all of his desire was centred on a tiny, rebellious redhead with violet-blue eyes…

      He gave a regretful shake of his head. ‘Perhaps another time; I have a really early appointment in the morning that I need to be fully awake and alert for,’ he invented to nullify any insult Jane might feel at his refusal.

      Jane moved closer towards him, her hand resting lightly on his chest as she looked up at him, her tongue moving suggestively across her lips. ‘I’ll make sure to set my alarm,’ she persisted.

      ‘I really can’t, Jane.’ He smiled to take the edge off his rejection.

      ‘Why not?’ She frowned her disappointment, her smile fading. ‘Or is it that I’ve served my purpose now that I’ve told you as much about J. I. Watson as I know?’ she guessed astutely, eyes starting to glitter with anger.

      She was too close to the truth for Nik’s comfort, he acknowledged self-disgustedly. He also didn’t like that slightly possessive edge he detected in her tone; a couple of dinners together certainly did not give her that right. ‘I truly am sorry—’

      ‘Not as sorry as I am.’ Her voice was sharp with fury.

      Nik didn’t like her tone at all now, finding it slightly threatening. It only confirmed his decision that to have pursued any further sort of relationship with this woman would have been a mistake.

      However, he also knew that his own reluctance wasn’t entirely due to any noble sentiment on his part—it had more to do with the haunting memory of a pair of violetblue eyes, poutingly kissable lips, and a slenderly seductive body.

      Although Jane Morrow was already angry enough at his reluctance to share her bed, without knowing that he was actually attracted to the daughter of J. I. Watson!

      ‘Hell hath no fury’…and all that, Nik thought with an inner wince.

      Jane’s pretty face was no longer pretty at all. ‘I should have known that Nik Prince wouldn’t really be interested in me, but rather in what I might be able to tell him about the elusive J. I. Watson!’ She gave a disgusted shake of her head, agitatedly searching through her evening bag for her apartment key now. ‘Well, if it’s any consolation,’ she bit out, having found the key at last and unlocked the door, ‘I have a feeling the reason J. I. Watson shuns the limelight may be because he has—slightly feminine tendencies, shall we be kind and say?’

      Nik, having been about to apologize yet again, became suddenly still instead, his eyes narrowing. ‘What makes you say that?’

      She shrugged too-narrow shoulders as she paused in the open doorway. ‘Either that or someone else writes his letters for him; the last two we’ve received definitely had a female perfume about them.’

      Jinx’s perfume…?

      That elusive, but at the same time heady perfume of Lily of the Valley that he had commented on on Saturday and that Jinx had so summarily dismissed?

      ‘Did you recognize—’

      ‘No, I didn’t!’ Jane turned to glare at him indignantly, her face twisted in anger now. ‘You really are all that they accuse you of in the press, aren’t you?’ she accused scornfully.

      Arrogant. Hard. Cold. Calculating. Single-minded. Brilliant. Gifted. He really had lost track of the names the press had bestowed on him over the years, rarely read anything they wrote about him nowadays, although he did know that the latter two comments were usually the exception to the rule. Most reporters preferred to dwell on his cold arrogance or the latest woman in his life rather than the skill that had earned him those five Oscars Jinx had referred to so scathingly on Saturday evening.

      Jinx, again…

      He really was becoming obsessed, wasn’t he? Although, what Jane said about the perfume on those last two letters was interesting. More than interesting, in fact. Perhaps, as he was reported to have been ill for some time now, Jackson Nixon had had more than a little help from his daughter in the writing of No Ordinary Boy? Perhaps—

      Nik froze as another—totally amazing!—alternative suddenly occurred to him.

      No—it couldn’t be!

      They couldn’t all have been so wrong.

      Could they…?

      CHAPTER FOUR

      ‘JULIET INDIA NIXON.’

      The name, softly but firmly spoken by Nik Prince as he sat opposite Jinx in the lounge of this large, impersonal London hotel, hung in the air between them like a dark, threatening cloud.

      Or maybe that was only the way it seemed to her, Jinx allowed heavily; after all, Nik had absolutely no reason to feel in the least threatened by this meeting. In fact, the opposite, she would have thought.

      As evidenced by his air of satisfaction as he leant further over the coffee-table that divided them, that silver gaze easily holding hers as he murmured, ‘That is you, isn’t it, Jinx?’

      She forced herself to turn calmly away from those allseeing eyes, not in the least surprised to see the woman sitting alone two tables down in this hotel lounge staring avidly at Nik Prince; he was the sort of man who attracted female attention wherever he went! Not that Nik seemed at all aware of that interested female gaze—no, all of his attention was firmly fixed on her.

      Jinx gave the other woman a sympathetic smile before turning away, deliberately adding sugar to one of the two cappuccinos they had ordered, to give herself a little time before answering Nik.

      Not that she thought for a moment that time was going to be of any help to her whatsoever; it had already been two days—two excruciatingly tense days!—since the letter had arrived in the post office box from Nik Prince with, ‘Juliet India Nixon or just J. I. Watson? I think we need to talk, don’t you? Reception, The Waldorf, Wednesday at 10.30 a.m.’ written on it. And Jinx was no further now towards knowing how to deal with

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