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It's broken down.' The words were out before she could recall them. 'I suppose—' she hesitated, then '—you can't mend gas boilers, can you?' 'Sorry.' He shook his head firmly, then glanced round, and through the open doorway caught sight of the illuminated Christmas tree in the sittingroom. 'Trying to cheer yourself up?' He looked down at her, rather an odd expression on his face.
'No, of course not. Hey, what do you think you're doing?'
She followed him through to the other room, then, as he hitched up his cords and went down on his haunches beside the tree, said, 'No—leave it alone, will you? What did you do that for?'
she added belligerently as the lights died.
'Now, Petra.' He came to his feet again, very close to her, so that she caught the warm, spicy tang of aftershave. 'I simply could not rest easy in
my snug little nest—'
'Snug little love-nest, you mean, don't you?' The words leapt out of her.
'Do I?'
'Well, she was in your bedroom, wasn't she?'
'So she was.' He eyed her thoughtfully. 'What's bugging you, Petra?'
'Bugging me? Nothing. Should there be?'
'I'd hate to think you were—er —jealous.'
'Jealous!' The angry colour sizzled in her cheeks. 'Why on earth should I be?'
He shrugged. 'That's your problem, not mine. But, anyway, I can't possibly think of you in this freezing mausoleum while I—'
'Oh, don't waste your thoughts on me, please, Jared.' Her voice was mid-steeped. 'I'll light the fire—'
'What with? I burned the last of your logs over Christmas.'
'Well, of all the—'
'So the least I can do is have you round to my place—that's the only fair change.' And he blew out the Swedish chimes, so that the little tinkling noises faded. 'No—no, I'm not coming.' She threw him a defiant look and, turning on her heel, went back to the kitchen. She yanked the curtains further back with an angry little snap of the wrist, but then had to stand motionless for a moment, her eyes closed, as a wave of dizziness went through her.
'Petra.'
She started violently as two strand arms went round her from behind, drawing her back until she was held tightly against a hard—very masculine
— body. She struggled frantically, but she might as well have tried to break steel bands. The more she fought him, the more Jared, using, she knew, just n fraction of his strength, pulled her closer to him, until she was conscious of every line and contour of that powerful, sinewy frame.
'Petra,' he repeated softly, his breath stirring the fine hairs on her neck, 'you are coming, either on your own two legs
— or in my arms. You choose.'
'J—just go away, Jared, please.'
But her body's unthinking respond to the feel and touch and smell of him was bewildering her, so that her words came out as a shaken little sob.
'You choose,' he repeated, a sliver of steel in his voice.
'I won't come.' She twisted in his grasp, so that she was looking straight up into those blackfringed eyes, which in the overhead light looked pale grey. 'I know exactly what plans you've got lined up for me.'
'Oh? And just what might they be?' Behind the bland question lurked that malicious demon.
'You intend to try to s—seduce me —make love to me.'
He shook his head decisively. 'No, my sweet. I don't, I promise you.'
