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other’s company for the rest of the day, especially in front of Daisy.

      But here and now? Yes, Xander could well believe that this Samantha had completely forgotten about the two of them kissing on Saturday night. The question was, what had happened since yesterday—since breakfast this morning, in fact—to cause Samantha to be so distracted that she wasn’t even defending herself? It was very unlike her.

      ‘Do you want ham or cheese for your sandwich?’ she asked distractedly now.

      ‘Both,’ Xander answered her just as dismissively. ‘Samantha?’

      ‘In that case, your lunch is ready,’ she announced briskly.

      Xander glanced down at the breakfast bar, his eyes narrowing as he saw that only one place had been laid. ‘Aren’t you eating too?’

      ‘I’m not hungry.’

      ‘You only had coffee for breakfast.’

      ‘Are you spying on me, too?’ She glared at him accusingly. ‘Because if you are, I advise you to stop. Right now!’ She was trembling with anger.

      ‘Whoa, Samantha.’ Xander reached out with both arms to grasp her about the waist as she would have turned and marched angrily from the room, his leg giving a protesting jolt of pain as he did so. Xander ignored that pain as he instead looked down searchingly into Samantha’s face; her eyes still sparkled with that earlier temper, her cheeks were flushed with anger, her mouth—her mouth...!

      Xander was breathing hard as he gazed down at that perfect, tempting bow, the bottom lip fuller than the top. These were the lips that had haunted him day and night these past two days. And right now those delicious lips were as red and plump as ripe berries, no doubt caused by that same flush of anger.

      Why was Samantha so angry? It seemed completely out of context to their conversation.

      ‘What did you mean when you said too?’ Xander asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. ‘Who else has been spying on you, Samantha?’ he prompted.

      Sam’s anger left her as quickly as it had arisen as she realised her mistake. Xander was just too intelligent, too astute, not to have noted and questioned her earlier comment. Or to add two and two together and not to come up with the right answer. If not now, then at some later time.

      Xander hadn’t recognised Malcolm on Saturday, and a part of Sam didn’t want Xander to know that she had once been married to a man like Malcolm Howard, let alone that he was now threatening her.

      She trembled every time she thought of her earlier conversation with Malcolm—which had been often in the past few hours! She knew she couldn’t allow Malcolm to come even close to demanding visiting rights with Daisy.

      Which meant what?

      That she would have to telephone Malcolm and agree to have dinner with him this evening, at least?

      Sam hated the thought of even doing that, let alone agreeing to Malcolm’s other demands.

      But she knew Malcolm too well, knew how clever he was at pretence, how charming he could be, and how easily he would be able to fool a judge into believing he was totally contrite regarding his previous attitude towards his daughter, and that he now wanted the chance to become a father to her.

      Daisy would be totally bewildered by suddenly having a father she had never known thrust into her life. Her daughter would be hurt and confused. Miserable. And Sam would be just as miserable, but also worried out of her mind on those occasions when Malcolm was allowed to take Daisy out. It simply couldn’t be allowed to happen.

      She looked up at Xander. ‘Would you please release me?’

      Xander looked down at her searchingly, totally unsettled by the look of pained resolve in her eyes. As if she had come to a decision she didn’t like. A decision she hated, if the grey tinge to her cheeks was any indication.

      His mouth thinned. ‘Answer my question, Samantha.’

      ‘Release me now, Xander.’ She challenged him as she pulled out of his arms.

      Leaving Xander with no choice but to reach out and grasp hold of the breakfast bar in an effort to stop himself from overbalancing and toppling over, at the same time as he reached out with the other hand to fold the length of his fingers about Samantha’s wrist to prevent her from moving any further away from him.

      Samantha’s gasp of pain was the last reaction Xander was expecting to so light a physical touch. ‘What’s wrong?’ He scowled darkly as he lifted her arm and saw the bandage wrapped about her wrist, previously concealed beneath the long-sleeved red shirt she had changed into after taking Daisy to school. ‘What happened to your wrist?’ he demanded. ‘Did you cut yourself? Sprain your wrist? Tell me how you did this, Samantha.’

      ‘Or what? Will you make me tell you, Xander?’ she added scornfully. ‘Refuse to release me until I do?’

      All of the above, as far as Xander was concerned, because he was not allowing Samantha to leave this kitchen until he knew exactly what was going on with her. Because something most certainly was!

      Except...

      He could see by Samantha’s almost resigned expression that she was expecting him to bully her into giving him an answer.

      Xander might be guilty of a lot of things—might now be living in fear of his temper allowing him to do even worse things—but bullying a woman, in any way, certainly wasn’t one of them.

      He maintained a light hold on Samantha’s arm as his thoughts drifted back to this morning. She had seemed quiet but cheerful enough when she’d made them all breakfast. Her mood had only changed to one of complete introspection after she’d returned from taking Daisy to school. The same time that she had changed into the long-sleeved shirt.

      Xander’s eyes narrowed purposefully as he lifted that wrist before folding back some of the elasticated bandage to reveal the multicoloured bruising beneath.

      Samantha immediately attempted to snatch her wrist out of his grasp. ‘Don’t!’

      ‘Who did this?’ Xander demanded with icy intensity, a red tide of anger washing over him as he recognised the bruises about the delicacy of Samantha’s wrist as being in the pattern of fingerprints. A man’s larger fingerprints, if he wasn’t mistaken. ‘Who did this to you, Samantha?’ he demanded harshly.

      Tears glistened in her eyes, her lashes blinking, and her bottom lip trembling as she attempted to prevent those tears from falling. ‘I caught it on—’

      ‘Don’t even attempt to lie to me about this,’ he advised softly. ‘I assure you that you won’t like me when I’m angry,’ he added as he felt that red tide threatening to overwhelm and control him.

      Samantha’s eyes were wide, her throat moving convulsively as she swallowed. As clear evidence that she also saw and recognised that anger? That it frightened her?

      Well, damn it, it frightened Xander too!

      It was exactly what he had been running away from facing these past few weeks. The reason he had begun to avoid other people. The reason he had distanced himself from his family. And hadn’t taken a woman to his bed. The very reason he had been so against Samantha and Daisy coming to live here with him in the first place.

      Xander released Samantha abruptly before stepping away from her. ‘Who hurt you, Samantha?’ His gaze sharpened as a thought suddenly occurred to him. ‘It was him, wasn’t it? Your ex-husband,’ he stated flatly. ‘You saw him again this morning when you took Daisy to school. Did you arrange to meet him?’

      ‘No! Absolutely not. Never,’ Sam instantly denied the accusation, giving a shudder of distaste at the mere suggestion she would deliberately spend time with Malcolm ever again.

      Except it was what she was thinking of doing now, wasn’t it? By giving in to Malcolm’s demands?

      She dropped down onto one

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