LITMIR.BIZ

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hate frauds.’ To think he’d infiltrated her thoughts enough to make her wonder, at the most unexpected moments, what he was doing. Now it turned out his lifestyle was indeed far removed from her own, but not in the direction she’d imagined! She doubted he wanted rescuing from his pampered, privileged existence.

      ‘I didn’t lie precisely.’ A quick mental review confirmed this was correct. His ethics weren’t so irreproachable that he wouldn’t have bent the truth a little if required.

      ‘Steven…?’

      ‘That was Charlie’s idea.’

      ‘Why would my daughter make up your name?’ she said scornfully.

      ‘It had something to do with claiming me as her long-lost brother. I took to it right off; there’s something solid and dependable about a Steven. Admittedly I’m not Steven, but I’m still the man who rescued your daughter—despite her opposition, I might add.’

      He had to remind her, didn’t he? Rachel chewed her full lower lip distractedly; she couldn’t deny the truth of his observation—at least the bit she could follow. The part about brothers made no sense at all.

      ‘You were laughing at me—us. I’m sure you’ll dine out for the next month on the story: “what happened when I went slumming”. I felt sorry for you!’ She couldn’t have sounded shrill if she’d tried but indignation did make her rather deep, husky voice rise an octave.

      ‘Pity is a very negative emotion,’ he reminded her. ‘Sorry, photographic memory. Only pity’s not all you felt.’ The way his dark eyes moved over her face alarmed her almost as much as the soft accusation. To her relief he didn’t pursue it. ‘I find it curious that you approved of me more when you thought I was one of the great unwashed. An unforgivable sin, I know, to turn out to be neither a paid-up member of the underworld nor a thug with a heart of gold. Has it occurred to you that your craving for a bit of…how can I put this delicately?…rough—’ an inarticulate squeak of outrage escaped Rachel’s pale lips and he reacted as if she’d uttered soothing words of encouragement ‘—could be a reaction against the sort of man you date? You’re looking for someone outrageous and slightly dangerous.’

      ‘I’m not looking full stop!’

      ‘When I meet a woman she generally knows what I do, who my family is and can usually hazard a fairly accurate guess at my bank balance…’

      Rachel watched as he straddled a chair that was twin to the one she was sat upon. ‘My heart bleeds…and you just desperately want someone to love you for the real you.’ Her voice fairly dripped with sarcasm. ‘Which is no doubt why you roam the streets looking like a drug dealer!’

      ‘Do you make a habit of inviting drug dealers into your home?’ he enquired with interest.

      The fingers that were laid lightly along the back of the chair were very long and elegant, she noticed irrelevantly, and his hands were shapely and strong. His words made her hospitality suddenly seem worryingly reckless.

      ‘I was grateful—’ she began defensively, before his urbane, polished tones interrupted her.

      ‘Was?’

      ‘Am—I am grateful,’ she said from between clenched teeth, sounding anything but. ‘I was sorry for you if you must know.’ That will teach me to get all sloppy and sentimental, she thought.

      ‘You shouldn’t blame yourself, you know. Your body is chemically programmed to find a mate. Hormones aren’t too concerned with financial prospects or social standing.’

      ‘Leave my hormones out of this!’ she yelled.

      ‘Fine,’ he said, with a languid smile that made her want to scream. ‘I can work with pity. As ulterior motives go, I think I prefer pity to avarice.’

      ‘Only someone from an obscenely privileged background could say anything so stupid.’

      ‘You have strong opinions about wealth, Rachel?’

      ‘No, just you. I think you’re a spoilt…irresponsible—’ She broke off, biting down hard on her lower lip to stop further imprudent remarks escaping.

      ‘I sense you were just warming to your theme,’ he said, with a provoking smile. ‘Don’t let the fact I’m your boss cramp your style.’

      ‘Temporary boss.’

      ‘Thank God, she breathed fervently?’ he surmised.

      ‘You’re very intuitive.’

      ‘And you’re very suspicious, Miss French. Let’s get a few things straight. When I met your daughter she was about to be carted off to the police station by a concerned couple. Being a child with limitless resources and a cool head, she decided to claim me as her brother. Apparently I looked mean enough to lack credibility in the eyes of the law and to get rid of the nice people—’

      Rachel’s angry glare turned slowly thoughtful. That did sound awfully like something Charlie would do. ‘That doesn’t explain the way you looked or the fact you made me think…’ She shook her head doubtfully. ‘Why didn’t you just tell me?’

      ‘If you work here you’ll know I’ve just come back from a six-month stint on a cattle ranch in Queensland, and that’s the only reason I lacked a certain sartorial elegance. The conclusions about my background were all yours and your charming companion’s. How was dinner at the Wilsons’? Did you wear something suitable?’

      Rachel stiffened, warm colour seeping under her skin. ‘Nigel has a cold; we didn’t go,’ she ground out.

      ‘I put Charlie in a taxi and followed her with the express intention of giving her delinquent parents a piece of my mind. It took me about ten seconds to realise I’d misread the situation, and less than that to be rendered speechless by your beauty…’

      Rachel gritted her teeth and opened her mouth to tell him in no uncertain terms that the only desire such ridiculous statements evoked in her was one to throw up! Suddenly she recalled that vacant expression that had first made her think he was a bit challenged in the intellectual department. He couldn’t actually be telling the truth—could he? For some reason this absurd notion impaired her ability to think straight.

      ‘Don’t say things like that!’

      ‘This is the new me, open and transparent.’

      ‘I’m not beautiful, I’m passably attractive.’ Letting him see she was rattled seemed a bad idea. It wasn’t too difficult to see how he’d achieved his reputation as a womaniser.

      ‘As they say,’ he remarked with an almost offhand shrug, ‘it’s all in the eye of the beholder, and this beholder,’ he said, touching his chest with an open hand, ‘sees beauty. I also see a kind heart.’

      ‘A fact you ruthlessly exploited,’ she reminded him, trying hard to cling to her sense of outrage.

      ‘I was tempted,’ he admitted, ‘but I didn’t think your charity would extend as far as a bed for the night.’

      She gave a gasp of outrage. ‘You were right!’ Had he no shame?

      ‘I feel much better now we’ve sorted that out,’ he confessed with a sigh. ‘I was wondering how I was going to bite the bullet and tell you I’m actually quite respectable. I was hoping my disreputable appearance didn’t account for all of the attraction, and if you have a thing about leather…’

      ‘Respectable!’ she choked incredulously. ‘Am I supposed to believe you’d ever have remembered me except as an amusing story to relate over dinner?’

      ‘Oh, believe it,’ he said, placing his chin in one cupped hand that rested on the chair-back. Suddenly he wasn’t laughing at all. Rachel thought the expression in his eyes should have carried a government health warning; happily she was immune to shallow flattery. She could be objective about the ripple of movement in her belly and the rash of gooseflesh that erupted over her

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