Mistress At A Price. Sara Craven

you always this persistent?’

      ‘Are you always this elusive?’

      ‘It doesn’t occur to you that I might—just prefer my own company?’

      ‘How can you know,’ he said, ‘until you’ve tried mine?’ He gave her a considering look. ‘Of course, if you’re too ashamed to be seen with me in the restaurant, we could always dine up here.’

      ‘No!’ The denial seemed to burst out of her.

      He grinned at her. ‘No to the shame, or no to being alone with me?’

      She lifted her chin. ‘Both.’

      ‘What’s the matter, Cat?’ His voice was soft—goading. ‘Discovered some hot bricks? You’ll feel better when you’ve eaten.’

      She was silent, knowing that she’d run out of arguments yet hating to admit it. ‘Very well,’ she conceded reluctantly, at last. ‘If—if I must.’

      ‘You overwhelm me,’ he murmured. He allowed his gaze to wander over her for a meditative moment. ‘Tell me something—is that bed as comfortable as it looks?’

      Cat stiffened defensively, angrily conscious that she’d started to blush. ‘It’s all right. Why?’

      ‘Because you seem to be glued to it.’ He unhitched himself from the dressing table and came towards her. ‘Need a hand?’

      From somewhere she managed a steely glance. ‘No, I do not. Thank you.’ She paused. ‘I—I’ll join you downstairs.’

      ‘Will you, now?’ He was grinning again, she saw with chagrin. ‘I think it might be safer if I waited for you right outside—just in case you have some alternative getaway planned. And don’t be too long,’ he added softly. ‘Because I seem to be developing quite an appetite.’

      And he left her kneeling there, in that absurd ocean of sprigged bedspread, staring after him, her heart thudding unevenly and her arms wrapped round her body like a shield.