her apartment, she had evidently taken some trouble with her appearance. A pale blue gauze dress dipped provocatively at her breast before flaring gently to her knees. Four-inch heels added height to her five-feet-ten-inch frame, and her blonde bob had been spiked to perfection. Evidently she’d dressed to please, and he felt guilty that right at this moment her pale good looks left him cold.
‘Long enough,’ she said now, moving over to his chair and perching on the arm. ‘You need a shave, darling. I’m not one of those women who like getting the equivalent of razor burns every time I kiss you.’
Unwanted, the image of Rachel as he’d last seen her flashed into his mind. How was it possible that he’d found her so appealing? So appealing, in fact, that if her daughter hadn’t interrupted them.
‘Joe, you’re not listening to me!’ Shelley’s voice rose again, and now there were hectic splashes of colour in her cheeks. ‘Where have you been? Charles is so tight-lipped. He wouldn’t breathe a word.’
‘That’s what I pay him for,’ said Joe laconically, making no response when she slipped her arm around his neck. ‘There was something I had to do. An arrangement I had to make for Monday. One of the guys back home asked me to fly his daughter over and I needed to check it out.’
Shelley’s shoulders stiffened. ‘His daughter?’
‘Yeah, his daughter.’ Joe glanced up at her. ‘You got an objection?’
‘Several.’ Shelley’s eyes flashed. ‘To start with, how old is she?’
‘Gee, let me see.’ Joe pretended to think about it, hoping the distraction would lighten his mood as well as hers. ‘In her teens, I guess.’
‘Her teens?’ Shelley’s voice rose even higher.
‘Yeah. Thirteen, I think. I can’t remember.’
‘Oh!’ Her relief was evident, but when she bent to rub her lips against his Joe didn’t take the bait.
‘It’s gonna be a busy weekend,’ he said, forcing her to draw back just as Charles came back into the room. ‘Ah, food! You ought to try one of these muffins, Shell. Charles makes them himself, and they’re magic.’
‘I’m glad you find something magical,’ retorted Shelley huffily, getting to her feet again and surveying him with angry blue eyes. ‘I hope this doesn’t mean I won’t see you again before you leave.’
‘Shell—’
‘I’ve brought two cups in case Ms Adair decides to join you,’ Charles interposed swiftly as he set down the tray. He walked back to the door. ‘Let me know if you need anything else.’
‘Thanks.’ As Charles disappeared again, Joe shifted forward and broke a piece off one of the warm muffins. In actual fact, he wasn’t particularly hungry, but it was a way to avoid Shelley’s accusing gaze. ‘Come on,’ he invited. ‘Try a piece.’
‘You know I don’t eat fatty things,’ replied Shelley stiffly. ‘And you shouldn’t either. They’re bad for your cholesterol.’
Joe pulled a wry face. ‘Oh, I think it can stand one English muffin,’ he murmured drily. ‘I promise to use the gym as soon as I get home.’
Shelley’s lips pursed. ‘You love making fun of me, don’t you?’
‘No.’ Joe reached for the pot of coffee. ‘But you sound as if you’ve had a sense of humour bypass.’
Shelley sucked in a breath. ‘I don’t understand you, Joe. When you first got here, you couldn’t wait to see me. Then, last night, you lost consciousness as soon as your head hit the pillow.’
‘I was tired.’ There was a distinct edge to Joe’s voice now, but Shelley didn’t seem to notice.
‘You can’t have been that tired,’ she retorted. ‘You were up early enough this morning. You left the apartment without even waking me. I don’t think you even took a shower. You certainly didn’t leave a message. What was I supposed to think?’
Joe’s jaw clamped. She was right, but he didn’t like hearing about it. He didn’t like the idea that anything that had happened since his arrival in England a week ago should have had any effect on his behaviour. He couldn’t tell her he’d left her bed because he’d been having a hot, sweaty dream about another woman. And this morning he’d suffered a serious lapse of judgment, that was all. It certainly wasn’t terminal.
‘I’ve said I’m sorry,’ he muttered tersely, reaching for his coffee and swallowing it black. He needed a jolt of caffeine to kick-start his brain. He also needed to get his head around the fact that a feisty female with tear-filled green eyes hadn’t permanently rocked his reason.
‘So …’ Shelley’s tongue circled her glossy lips. ‘Will I see you tonight?’
Joe blew out a breath. ‘Not tonight, no.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’ve promised this guy whose daughter I was telling you about that I’d go and check on his family.’
‘His family?’
‘His ma and pa.’
Shelley snorted. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Your call. But it’s true.’ He paused. ‘You can come with me, if you like.’ That way if, by some unlucky chance Rachel should be there.
But he hadn’t finished the thought before Shelley broke in. ‘You’ve got to be joking! You want me to spend Saturday night visiting some old couple who’re probably senile?’ She snorted. ‘Give me a break.’
‘Okay.’ Joe didn’t argue. ‘Then I guess I’ll see you Sunday night before I leave.’
Shelley groaned. ‘You know I’ve got to attend that awards dinner on Sunday evening. I told you at the start of the week.’
‘Then I guess we won’t see one another until you come to the Caribbean for your photo shoot in November.’
Shelley sulked. ‘Couldn’t you get out of this visit? For me? Please!’
‘Couldn’t you miss the awards dinner?’ he countered.
‘You know I can’t.’
Joe shrugged, ashamed to find he was half relieved. ‘Impasse,’ he said. ‘Come on. Drink your coffee. I’m sure you’ll have no difficulty finding another man to spend your evening with.’
Shelley stalked across the floor. ‘You’re a bastard, do you know that?’
‘So I’ve been told,’ murmured Joe mildly, but the only response he got was the slamming of the door.
CHAPTER SIX
RACHEL was typing a page of her novel for the umpteenth time when the phone rang.
‘Oh, great,’ she muttered broodingly, aware that the story wasn’t going as it should, and that her agent was probably ringing to check on its possible completion.
‘Yes?’ she said, the frustration evident in her voice.
And then she pulled a wry face when Evelyn Carlyle said tartly, ‘I’m sorry if I’m being a nuisance.’
‘Oh, of course you’re not.’ Rachel was contrite. Since Daisy had left for Florida over a week ago, her in-laws had been a constant source of support. ‘I thought it was Marcia. She’s been grumbling because I haven’t got the manuscript finished.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Evelyn sounded mollified. ‘I should have guessed. You looked tired yesterday. Aren’t you sleeping well?’
‘Well enough,’ said Rachel tersely, aware that it was the man who’d escorted her daughter to Florida, not her manuscript, that was disrupting her sleep. It didn’t