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'I was not,' she shouted indignantly, her voice rising in line with her temper. 'And he was not flirting with me, for goodness' sake; can't you see how much he loves Barbara? He's just friendly, that's all—'
'Oh, he's friendly all right,' Reece answered coldly. 'In fact he's got that particular attribute down to a fine art, and always with the opposite sex from what I can make out.'
'But you don't know him,' she answered incredulously. 'How can you make snap judgements—?'
'I never make snap judgements, but I do have the sort of mind that can sort out the wheat from the chaff instantly,' he said coolly. It was said with such magnificent arrogance, such total disregard for normal, acceptable behaviour, that she didn't know whether to laugh or hit him, but in the end she did the former.
'You really are some sort of megalomaniac.' She smiled scornfully. 'I can't believe you're for real.'
'Believe it, Miriam,' he said darkly, and his mouth moved over hers for a moment, hot and sweet, before he walked briskly out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The first thing Miriam noticed as she surfaced from a heavy, troubled sleep the next morning was that her small bedsit was bathed in a quiet, pale glow and the normal morning noise from outside the window was strangely muted.
She lay for some moments in the soft warmth of the bed before steeling herself to move from the comfortable haven into the icy world beyond the covers. The old house was full of draughts and it wasn't at all unusual for the residents to have Jack Frost daub the inside of the windows as well as painting a scene outside.
She padded across to the window and as she pulled back the heavy old velvet curtains, which were more a protection against the sly air currents that permeated the old house than aesthetically attractive, a world of white met her eyes. It had obviously been snowing all night if the thick blanket already covering everything from rooftops to pavements was anything to go by, and still fat white feathery flakes were falling from a laden sky.
It was the last thing she needed at the moment, but in spite of the difficulties the bad weather would undoubtedly bring she stood for a moment just drinking in the magical fairyland outside, the harsh outlines of the bare trees in the small park opposite disguised under their mantle of silvery white.
'Beautiful…' She pushed a strand of silky red hair off her cheek as she breathed her satisfaction before noticing a movement in the street below. And then she froze. Reece Vance was standing looking straight at her window, his face uplifted to the starry flakes, and here was she with just a thin nightie between herself and nakedness.
She stepped back so quickly that she almost brought the curtains with her as her foot caught in the hem of one and the old curtain track groaned protestingly before mercifully deciding to remain in place.
Reece? What on earth was he doing outside her bedsit at this time in the morning? She just had time to run a brush through her hair and fling on her dressing gown before the bell sounded stridently downstairs, and after pushing her feet into the giant monkey slippers that Mitch had bought her for her birthday that year she hurried down, her cheeks flushed and her eyes apprehensive.
'Reece?' She opened the door at once to find him frowning on the doorstep. 'What's wrong?'
'Do you always do that?' he asked testily, without making any effort to step inside.
'Do what?' She stated at him bewilderedly, quite unaware of the warm, glowing picture she made in the doorway, her hair like fire against the white towelling robe and her cheeks flushed and pink.
'Open the door without using that thing?' He gestured to the small intercom fixed to the inside of tip hall with its own little security camera enabling the residents to see who was outside when the button was pressed.
'Only sometimes.' She smiled uncertainly as he shook his head grimly. 'I'd already seen you from my window anyway.'
'Miriam, this is the twentieth century in case no one's told you,' he said tightly as he stepped inside the hall, his bulk big and solid against her slimness. 'The landlord was clearly aware of the dangers of a young girl living alone even if you haven't taken them on board.' He looked at her sternly. 'You never, ever open your door again without finding out
exactly who is out there. Got it?'
'Reece, I am not exactly a young girl.' She stared up at him as his frown deepened. 'And what are you doing here anyway? It's only seven-thirty in the morning.'
'I'm well aware of the time.' He suddenly seemed faintly embarrassed as he turned and gestured towards the stairs, his voice terse. 'I presume you are going to offer me a cup of coffee on such a filthy morning?'
'When I know why you're here.' She stood her ground so that he was forced to turn and face her again.
'The weather conditions.' He shook his head irritably towards the door. 'The roads are lethal and the rust-bucket isn't too hot at the best of times. I thought it would be a good idea if I came and gave you a lift, especially as you're going to stay for a few days. You can use Barbara's car if you have to go out, but I'd prefer you to get anything you need delivered, OK?'
He turned and began to walk up the stairs. She stared at his departing back as she forced her mind, and her legs, into gear. It didn't mean a thing, not a thing, she told herself harshly as she followed in his footsteps. He was concerned that nothing jeopardised his sister's wedding, that was all, and if there was any kind of complication with herself then things could well grind to a halt. That was all this meant.
She had left her door open in her headlong dash downstairs, which earned another frown she chose to ignore. 'Tea or coffee?' she asked brightly as she followed him into the small but cheerful little room she called home.
'Ether.' The piercing grey gaze moved swiftly round the room, noticing the bright splashes of colour in the form of a carefully placed pot here, a few gaily bound books there, and came to rest on her watchful face. 'I can see you live here,' he said with a strange element of satisfaction colouring the dark voice. 'It's…provocative to the senses.'
'Is it?' She glanced round the room herself, trying to see it as he would. The curtains were old and faded with age, the carpet threadbare in places which a couple of outrageously coloured rugs hid quite well, but overall the general effect was one of determined cheerfulness in the face of very little money, and quite at odds with the splendour of his home. 'Is that a compliment or an insult?' she asked uncertainly with a faint smile.
'Oh, a compliment, definitely…' He was standing in a shaft of light from the window, and she noticed, before she could shut her mind off from such dangerous thoughts, that he must have shaved recently; his skin was smooth and clean along the hard line of his jaw; it would be silky to the touch.
