Sweet Madness. Sharon Kendrick

though he had somehow managed to place an electric charge deep inside her.

      She stared up at him, both bewitched and petrified, and she saw his lips curve into a smile which was nothing whatsoever to do with happiness.

      ‘Don’t look so surprised,’ he mocked softly. ‘You must know by now what it does to a man when you gaze up at him with those big brown eyes. Like Bambi,’ he mused, ‘only not so innocent,’ and he drew one thoughtful finger slowly down a cheek that she knew was drained of all blood. And that single contact, innocuous though it was, caused her insides to melt like butter on a hot day, and a shiver turned the skin beneath her clothes into icy goose-bumps. She was speechless and spellbound as she stared at him helplessly. She had never dreamed, never, that a man could make you feel like this. To feel so much, from so little . . .

      He laughed then, almost ruthlessly, and let her go, turning to pick up the photo, sliding it back smoothly into its envelope, Gita’s exquisite face mocking her as he did so.

      Ignore it, she thought. Act flip—that’s what he’d expect of you. Pretend it was nothing. Nothing. ‘Will you be needing me for anything else tonight?’ she asked coolly.

      He gave her a quizzical look. ‘In view of what just happened, I’d advise you to make your questions a little less ambiguous in future—a man could get quite the wrong idea.’ He made for the door, then paused. ‘As a matter of fact, I do—will you get those films developed tonight, before you go? Or is there a man waiting?’

      If only he knew—and if he knew he’d never believe it in a million years. Let him think what he liked—anything rather than have him harbour fears that she had no life of her own, that he was going to become the main feature in it. She gave a little shrug. ‘Kind of,’ she prevaricated.

      ‘Well, make sure he doesn’t keep you out all night—we’re out on location tomorrow, and it’s an early start. We have to be in Sussex by eight, so I’ll pick you up at six.’

      Her brain must still be fuddled from that embrace, else why would she be stuttering out scarcely coherent replies? ‘You mean—from my flat?’

      His mouth twisted. ‘Unless you’ll be staying somewhere else?’

      The implication was clear, and she shook her head, her eyes flashing with anger. ‘I’ll be at home.’ Her voice was chilly.

      He had his hand on the door-handle. ‘Well—don’t forget to lock up. Goodnight.’

      ‘Goodnight.’ Sam’s stomach was churning as she took the film into the dark-room. What in heaven’s name was happening to her? She snapped the light off and, by touch alone, wound the films on to their metal spirals and plunged them into developing fluid.

      Her heart was racing like a piston. It was sexual attraction, nothing more, and she was going to have to hide it. Nothing had happened, and nothing would.

      But her heart continued to race as she thought of tomorrow. Of a long drive to Sussex. Alone in the car with Declan.