LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER THREE

      THE chinking of ice in glasses brought Romy back to the present and it took a moment for the shivering horror of her memories to disappear. Swallowing down the distaste which soured her mouth, she looked up to see Dominic placing a tray of drinks on a small table.

      He handed her a frosted glass brimming with juice and subjected her to a brief, hard scrutiny. ‘Taking a pleasant trip down memory lane, were you, Romy?’ he mocked.

      ‘Pleasant?’ she retorted, almost choking on her mango juice. ‘Are you kidding?’

      He sighed. ‘So you’re one of those people who rewrite history to suit themselves, are you?’

      ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

      He sat down in a vast armchair directly opposite her, giving Romy an uninterrupted view of his seemingly endless legs. He treated her to a hatefully smug smile. ‘I assume that you were remembering our brief encounter?’

      Why bother denying it? The rise of colour to her cheeks gave her away in any case. ‘And what if I was?’

      ‘Then you surely won’t be hypocritical enough to deny that it was pleasurable?’

      There was a moment of stunned silence. ‘How on earth have you got the gall to say that?’ Romy demanded, outraged at his persistence in talking about it, and at his own remarkable lack of embarrassment.

      ‘Easy,’ he drawled. ‘I was there, remember? I held you in my arms, watched you as you moved beneath my fingers—’

      ‘Don’t! Just don’t!’ Romy slammed her glass down on the table and glowered at him, though her anger made no impression on that infuriatingly detached expression on his face. ‘Is this why you wanted to employ me?’ she demanded. ‘Well, is it? So that you could gloat outrageously over a one-off incident—an incident I’d much rather forget?’

      ‘But was it?’ he mused, in a voice all the more dangerous because it was deadly soft. ‘A one-off?’

      All the colour drained from Romy’s face and she swallowed down the acrid taste of humiliation. ‘Are you really suggesting,’ she said heavily, ‘that I behave like that all the time?’

      ‘Allowing total strangers free access to your body, you mean?’ he clarified insultingly.

      It made what had happened seem all the worse when he described it in that brutal way. ‘Yes.’ She put her hand out to lift the glass of juice, but her fingers were trembling too much so she left it.

      ‘Why wouldn’t I believe that?’ He raised dark, arrogant brows in query. ‘Surely that would be the natural assumption to make? After all, I wouldn’t dream of flattering myself by thinking that you would make an exception just for me,’ he mused.

      ‘Please don’t insult my intelligence with false modesty!’ challenged Romy.

      ‘Oh?’ He rubbed the faintly blue shadow of his chin thoughtfully. ‘Then that does rather imply that you did make an exception in my case, doesn’t it, Romy?’

      For a moment, Romy was lost for words. Because what if she admitted that she had made an exception in his case? And had allowed him intimacies which she had allowed no other man—not even her fiancé—to take? Would that not then beg the question why?

      And it was the last question she wanted him to ask her—because she didn’t have the courage to answer it honestly, not even to herself.

      She closed her eyes briefly in an attempt to calm herself—something which was impossible when confronted with that cool silver gaze—and when she opened them again something of her usual resilience had returned.

      ‘Why don’t you answer my original question, Dominic?’ she said, fixing him firmly with a velvet brown stare. ‘And tell me exactly why you want me—of all people—to organise your party for you.’

      He knitted his fingers together in front of his chest in an attitude of contemplation. ‘Because you have a talent.’ He laughed as he saw her mouth fall open, but the laugh was cold and cynical. ‘Oh, don’t worry, Romy! I’m not referring to your tactile and highly responsive nature, but rather to your skills as a party planner. When I asked around for the best person to organise a rather special weekend house party your name came up every time.’

      ‘And that’s the only reason you want to employ me, is it?’ quizzed Romy. ‘Because I happen to be the best at what I do?’

      ‘Why would there be any other reason?’ he asked coolly.

      ‘Because I remember the way you looked at me when we were rescued from the lift!’ Romy cried, recalling only too well the stinging and cringing shame she had experienced. She would never forget that icy look of disgust he had directed at her. Never—not as long as she lived! ‘As though I was the lowest form of life which had just crawled out from underneath the nearest rock!’

      ‘Did I?’

      ‘You know damned well you did! And at the wedding too...afterwards...’

      Somehow she had endured his stony stare throughout the entire ceremony and had thought that no worse test could befall her, but she had been wrong.

      Outside the church afterwards, in the flurry of confetti and photographers, Dominic had turned to Mark and said casually, ‘May I kiss your wife?’

      And Romy had watched Mark reply easily, ‘Sure—be my guest.’

      She had tried to present Dominic with one cool, pale cheek, but he was having none of it. He’d even

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