Page 31 of Passion's Prey

of him with one hand, he tilted her averted face until she was forced to confront her reflection—her hair tumbling in wild aband o n on her shoulders, her normal l y pale face flushed, her eyes still dark , half-drugged by his lovemaking, her lips pouting and moist from that fierce kiss.

' T a k e a good look. 'When she tried to twi st her head away he held it there remorselessly.

'Now—wake up, my sweet. No more delusions, please. You're a little hypocrite, do you know that? You're crushing your sensuality —something that's a marvellous, vital part of you—and, what's more, you're denying it even exists.'

'No.'

He was stripping away her skin layer by layer. She had to defend herself, or he would leave nothing intact in her to be defended. Tearing her head away and wincing as his fingers tangled through her hair, she swung round to him.

'Are you quite sure it's me who's the hypocrite, Jared? Oh, you can d r e s s it up in fancy talk about setting me free, saving me from myself, but all you really want is a three-month a f f a i r to pass the time while you're here w r i t i n g your screenplay. No strings, and as soon as you've finished you walk away without a backward glance. That's so, isn't it?'

One shoulder lifted carelessly. 'Of course—what else?'

'And, I suppose, when you go y o u ' l l graciously hand me over to Simon—just the way your precious Tristan passed on that two-timing—'

'Yes—if you still want to marry him by then.'

His arrogance almost took the breath from her body. 'You mean, after you no man could ever possibly appeal to a woman?'

'If that woman's you—yes.'

'Oh, I'm sure you're a superb lover,' she said tightly. 'But then, you've had as m u c h more practice than Simon and me, haven't you?'

Her voice was unsteady, though, as her false bravado faltered and died, leaving her overflowing with cold, sick misery and guilt. What had possessed her, against every instinct in her, to clutch at him like that, to sigh and moan like—like that cheap little Iseult?

But of course. Her eyes went past Jared's shoulder to the coffee-table, where the empty cups and glasses still stood, and all at once a surge of pure thankfulness filled her to the brim. Both times she'd reacted like this—when she'd found him in her bed, and now —she'd been drinking. All right, it wasn't any kind of magic potion, but each time the alcohol had been enough t0 turn her, just like that unhappy princess, into a different person, so alien from her real self.

'Oh, no, Petra.' Jared shook his grimly, his quicksilver mind as fast as her thought. 'Don't accuse me of plying you with drink—it won't work. You had exactly as much as you w a n t e d . Besides, when I take y o u . . . ' a t the casual words she uttered a soundless gasp of protest ' .

. . I intend you to be stone-cold sober, so that you know precisely what it is you're doing—and what you're begging me to do.'

'And that will be precisely nothing.'

Dragging down her shirt from where it was still riding up round her w a i s t , she turned on her heel.

'Going so soon?'

'Yes, I am. Thank you so much for a pleasant evening. Don't bother to show me out—and, believe me, if I can get through the next three months without setting eyes on you then I'll be the happiest woman in Cornwall.'

'Haven't you forgotten something?' As she reached the door his lazy drawl arrested her.

'My coat? It's in the kitchen. And if you mean that nightdress, well, you can—'

'No. Your feline chastity belt, of course.' He jerked a thumb at Sam, blissfully asleep on the velvet chair. N o t that he seemed to be over-exerting h i m s e l f this evening.'

She stalked across and scooped the cat up into her arms, ignoring his sleepy miaow. His warm, soft body was somehow consoling and strengthening at the same time, and it allowed her to face Jared more calmly across the sofa.

'Goodnight. And don't bother reminding me about my central heating being off. A cold house doesn't bother me.'

'Oh, I'm sure it doesn't,' he agreed unpleasantly, then glanced at his watch. 'But in any case, it should be warm enough by now.' When her jaw dropped he added casually, 'I set the time clock to come on at six this evening.'

'You—you mean you've mended it?'

He nodded. 'When you were getting in all that beauty sleep this morning.'

'But you said you couldn't MEND boilers.' She tossed back her dishevel led hair. 'A liar as well as a hypocrite.'

'Not exactly.' His lips had t h i n n e d but he kept his voice level. 'I can't fix boilers, but all that was wrong was a loose wire in the time switch.'

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