LITMIR.BIZ

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well!

      She gave a yelp of dismay before crossing the room to the sanctuary of the bed and the protective bedclothes, and looking accusingly at Raff over the top of the snowy-white sheet.

      She hadn’t heard his approach or the bedroom door opening, but there he stood, larger than life in the daylight, the fitted denims low down on his hips, the dark blue shirt he wore making his eyes look darker.

      But he still made her think of Heathcliff, his dark hair tousled and inclined to curl, his skin ruggedly tanned.

      ‘Here.’ He held up the clothes that were draped over his arm, derisively taking pity on her. ‘But I’ve seen it all before, you know,’ he drawled mockingly.

      In Technicolor!

      Her cheeks felt hot at the thought of this man’s hands on her body. Had her nakedness left him unaffected? Probably. He didn’t give the impression he found her in the least attractive. It wasn’t the reaction men usually had to her vivid colouring.

      ‘In that case——’ she sat up on the bed, baring her shoulders and back ‘—pass me my robe, would you?’ She held out her hand for the garment, her gaze unflinching.

      Admiration slowly darkened his eyes and, although slow in coming, he actually smiled! ‘I wonder just who you are, Jane Smith?’ he mused softly.

      Her head went back at this direct challenge, her defensive action turning to puzzlement as his expression became harsh, and his narrowed gaze rested on the flowing fire of her hair as it fell forward across her breasts.

      ‘I mean to find out before you leave here,’ he told her curtly.

      Jane felt a shiver of apprehension, instantly dismissing the emotion as being ridiculous. She didn’t know exactly where she was, but she could leave any time she wanted to. Couldn’t she …?

      ‘Where did you come from last night?’ Raff demanded to know. ‘Where were you going to?’

      ‘I don’t think that’s any of your business,’ she snapped resentfully, well aware of what a disadvantage she was at, her robe having been placed over the back of the bedroom chair with her other clothes, way across the other side of the room. As Raff very well knew!

      His eyes were still narrowed, his arms crossed in front of the broadness of his chest. ‘You gave your address at the hospital last night as being a hotel, but you must have lived somewhere before staying there?’

      He was being deliberately provocative, almost insulting. ‘Raff …’

      ‘Who was he, Jane Smith?’ he pushed, not waiting for her to finish.

      ‘Who was who?’ Jane frowned.

      ‘Your wealthy lover!’

      ‘My——?’ Jane choked with indignation. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ she gasped.

      He shrugged. ‘I may not know too much about ladies’ clothing——’ his mouth twisted derisively ‘—but even I recognise some of the labels in your clothes as being designer models. Who bought them for you?’

      ‘I don’t have to——’

      ‘It was a man, wasn’t it?’ he cut in forcefully. ‘Silken underwear——’ He held up one of the lacy bras Jane favoured, that minute scrap of expensive lace looking even smaller in his callused hand. ‘Bought to please a lover. Or by him,’ Raff added hardly.

      In truth, each and every article of her clothing had been paid for by a man, but she had chosen the underwear to please herself, no one else, loving the silken feel of it against her skin.

      She shook her head. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

      ‘Don’t I?’ he rasped, throwing the bra down disgustedly on top of her other clean clothing. ‘Believe me, I know more than you think,’ he told her heavily. ‘But before this goes any further I think I should tell you I’m not on the lookout for an expensive mistress. Or one of any other kind, come to that,’ he added insultingly.

      His behaviour took her breath away, angry colour darkening her cheeks. ‘If I were on the lookout for a rich lover, you can be sure you wouldn’t even be a consideration!’

      Really, the man didn’t even know her, and yet he could make accusations like that!

      ‘Then we understand each other,’ he nodded with satisfaction.

      ‘Completely,’ she snapped resentfully.

      ‘Good,’ he said smugly. ‘Now that we’re agreed on what neither of us want, we can get around to discussing what I do want.’

      ‘Sorry?’ Jane shook her head, still feeling slightly muzzy. It must be those tablets she had taken the night before. Maybe she was imagining this whole conversation? It was too outrageous to be real!

      ‘Can you type?’ He sat down in the bedroom chair, uncaring that he crushed her clothes in doing so.

      Jane frowned, having difficulty keeping up with the conversation now. ‘Type?’ she repeated dazedly.

      ‘Yes.’ His mouth twisted. ‘You know, place your fingers on the keys of a typewriter and make words appear on——’

      ‘I’m well aware of what typing is,’ she snapped. ‘I just don’t see what it has to do with me?’

      Raff looked at her consideringly. ‘At a guess, I would say right now you’re homeless and jobless——’

      ‘That’s a hell of an assumption to make,’ Jane bit out resentfully. God, was she so transparent? Possibly, to this man, with his probing eyes and cynicism. Although he certainly wasn’t a hundred per cent right about her! Just enough to have unnerved her, she admitted.

      She still had no idea where she was, and although Mrs Howard had seemed respectable enough that was really little comfort right now.

      Raff arched dark brows. ‘But a correct one?’

      ‘Who are you, Raff Quinlan?’ Her head was back challengingly.

      He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘Rafferty Quinlan. Thirty-seven. Divorced.’ The last was added bitterly. ‘In charge of the running of an estate that is slowly bleeding itself—and me—dry!’

      It was the very briefest of r$eAsum$eAs, and yet Jane was able to glean a lot from it. His marriage, whether it had initially been a happy one or not, had ended badly, which might account for some of his behaviour towards her. But not all of it!

      ‘ ‘‘In charge of running an estate’’?’ she repeated slowly.

      He nodded abruptly. ‘I can’t exactly claim to own it when it’s mortgaged up to the hilt,’ he rasped. ‘My father had little interest in the place for years before he and my mother were killed in a plane crash five years ago, and he had let things deteriorate badly. My darling wife decided she didn’t want to be stuck out in the middle of Hampshire struggling to make a living, let alone enjoying herself, and took what little there was left as a divorce settlement. I’ve only managed to keep Mrs Howard because she’s run the house since before I was born, and considers it more her home than I do!’

      Jane didn’t believe that; she sensed a fierce pride in Raff in the estate he called his home.

      And at least she knew where she was now! Not that she was too familiar with Hampshire, but she felt a little more reassured now that she was at least approximately aware of her whereabouts.

      Raff’s wife couldn’t have loved him if she could have walked out on him for such a reason. And it would probably explain part of his resentment towards the type of woman he had decided she had to be.

      But it didn’t explain his conversation of a few minutes ago.

      ‘What does all this have to do with whether or not I can type?’ She frowned.

      His

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