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t.' He had interrupted her before she could finish and she kept the smile in place with sheer determination.
'Phone?' she continued pointedly. 'I can get a taxi and arrange for this to be collected—'
'No need.' He'd done it again, she thought tightly. 'I'll give you a lift to wherever you're going—Barbara and I were just leaving anyway—and arrange for someone to look at the car and drive it to your house some time tomorrow. OK?'
'But garages don't work on a Sunday,' she said quickly, 'and I can sort it out myself. There's really no need for you to bother about it.'
'No bother.' A glimmer of a smile touched the hard face for a second. 'And they will work on a Sunday if I want them to.' The quirk to his mouth disappeared as he moved closer, looking down at her as the droplets of rain sat in her silky red hair like tiny diamonds. 'Why don't you like me?' he asked expressionlessly. 'Do I frighten you?'
She couldn't answer, the pounding of her heart and sudden dryness in her throat rendering her dumb as she looked up into the dark, cool face. He seemed very big and very powerful as he leached out and drew her, almost casually, into his arms, his chin resting on the top of her head as he nuzzled her wet hair with his chin.
'I should imagine you are the type of person who can get on with anyone,' he said thoughtfully over her head. 'But with me there is a definite withdrawal every time I so much as look at you. Why?'
His arms tightened a fraction and she forced herself to stand absolutely still as the intoxicating smell of expensive aftershave on clean male skin set her pulse racing like an express train. Her senses were alive as they had never been before, her nerves aware of the lean male body in a way that was positively wanton, and she was terrified that he would sense her response—sense it and capitalise on it.
He was dangerously threatening to her peace of mind, she told herself desperately, whether he was being coldly patronising, coolly mocking or menacingly tender—like now. This sort of thing meant nothing to him, she knew that. With women like Sharon dancing attendance she had no chance at all, so why, why did her body have to react like this?
'No answer?' he asked softly. 'Look at you now, rigid as a board. Do you think I'm going to drag you off into the bushes and have my wicked way with you or something? It's hardly the weather for such games, is it?' he added mockingly.
'Don't be ridiculous.' She managed to jerk away, her cheeks scarlet, as her wits returned with his mockery. 'I just don't play the sort of 'games' that you obviously indulge in, that's all.'
'It was purely a figure of speech, Miriam.' One dark eyebrow rose satirically upwards at her angry face. 'And, for the record, I don't play games either. Anything I do, I do for real.'
'You know what I mean.' She backed away as she spoke, feeling safer with a metre or two of air between them.
'Unfortunately I think I do.' He crossed his arms and stared down at her like a great black hunter sighting its prey. 'You seem to have the impression that I am—how can I put it without being too indelicate?—little better than a stud stallion.'
'Well, if that's being delicate I'd hate to hear you when you're speaking frankly.' She blinked at him as a tiny star of snow settled on the eyelashes of one eye, and rubbed her wet face warily.
'You're getting soaked.' He suddenly seemed to remember her bedraggled state. 'Come on; come into the house for a minute and dry off while I phone the garage. At the very least you can allow me the privilege of running you to your mother's,' he continued drily, 'when you are single-handedly saving Barbara's great day.'
She eyed him suspiciously; the words had sounded very much like an insult wrapped in the bright paper of a compliment, but he stared back at her innocently, a small smile playing round the hard mouth.
'Even the most dissolute of rogues is allowed to be noble on occasions, surely?'
'And you think you fit that description? Of dissolute rogue?' she asked sweetly as she allowed him to take her arm and lead her back towards the house.
'No.' He stopped abruptly and turned her into the length of him as all amusement left his face. 'I don't, but you sure as hell do.' And then he kissed her. Hard. With more than a shred of anger mixing with the hot hunger as his mouth ravished hers. And although she knew that it was madness, that she would regret it bitterly as soon as she was free of his arms, she kissed him back.
'Miriam, Miriam…' He cupped her face with his hands, his kiss more penetrating now as his tongue plundered the sweetness of her mouth in fierce, darting movements that caused the blood to run wild in her veins. And just for a second, before reason asserted itself, she longed to melt into the body of this dangerous, hard individual and drown in his caress. 'So sweet,' he murmured against her parted lips. 'So defenceless…'
Defenceless? If he had struck her she couldn't have reacted more violently as she wrenched herself out of his arms, her face flaming. And what exactly did that mean, as if she didn't know? she asked herself furiously. Substitute naive, simple—stupid, even. But she wasn't stupid and she didn't trust him, not an inch, and, what was more, she was at least worldly-wise enough to recognise that the only possible interest he could have in someone like her was a brief flaring of physical attraction that would die as swiftly as it was born.
He wasn't her type and she certainly wasn't his. One look at Sharon had made that little fact abundantly and painfully clear, but she was a change from his normal diet of cool, elegant, sophisticated women of the world, and therefore something of a novelty. There was no reason why the knowledge should hurt so much. No reason at all.
'Could I please just use the phone?' she asked tightly as she gathered the remnants of her tattered pride into place. 'I think I'd prefer that to the payment you obviously expect for a lift.' It was unforgivable, but just at that moment the need to prove that she was mistress of her own emotions, as cool and capable and independent as he was, was paramount. Inside she felt crushed and buffeted by a hundred different sensations but he mustn't guess—he mustn't ever guess.
'Payment?' In the split second before his face became a blank mask, the hard jaw set and cold, she saw pure, undiluted rage in the silver-grey eyes and it was frightening. He swore once, softly but with great purpose, and then took hold of her arm in a punishing grip as he whisked her into the house, almost lifting her off her feet in his temper. 'Sit!' As he threw her into a big easy chair in the drawing room the tone was exactly the same as one might use to a disobedient dog, and she reared up at the sound.
'How dare you—?'
'Not a word—not a word, Miriam.' He glared at her one more time before leaving to return almost immediately with a massive, fluffy bath towel which he flung at her with more force than was necessary. 'Dry yourself,' he said tightly, 'while I get Barbara down here. And then you will get into my car—with my sister as chaperon, I hasten to add—and I will take you to wherever you want to go.'
It sounded as if he could suggest somewhere that was very hot and very unpleasant, she reflected silently as she did exactly as she was told, rubbing her dripping wet hair weakly as she contemplated the rigid fury in his back as he strode from the room. Why on earth had she provoked him? she asked herself flatly.
It was a question that continued to burn in the back of her mind all the way to her mother's house, even as she kept up a light conversation with Barbara, who chatted away in the back of the car quite oblivious to the tension between Miriam and her brother. She had allowed him to get under her skin, and at the very least it was grossly unprofessional and at the worst— She caught her lip between her teeth and bit down hard. At the worst it was suicidal, she thought miserably as she glanced at the dark, grim profile.
As they drew up outside her mother's neat little detached house with its trim garden she forced a smile on her lips and turned to Reece, only to find that he had left the car and was opening her door, his face cold. 'You'd better give me your address,' he said abruptly. 'For the car to be returned.'
