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‘Since when have you cared about social niceties?’ sniped Stephen. ‘As I recall you’ve always preferred your women to be strictly of the tramp variety.’
Duncan’s jaw tightened but he replied evenly, ‘I suppose that depends on your interpretation of a woman—and a tramp. Personally, I thought the narrow-minded categorising of unattached females as either virgins or sluts had ended with the sexual revolution.’
‘How very politically correct—but a rather specious argument considering your predilection for women who are attached,’ said Stephen, covering Kalera’s hand on his forearm with such possessive firmness that her shiny new ring dug into her fingers. ‘For a fanatic about loyalty you have a fine disrespect for other people’s vows of fidelity. Wife or fiancée—it makes no difference to you, does it? You simply take it as a challenge if a woman belongs to someone else.’
‘And you think Kalera belongs to you?’ Duncan’s incredulity was a sneer in itself.
Stephen flashed his beautiful teeth in a tauntingly confident smile. ‘I know she does!’
Kalera had a strong desire to bang their arrogant male heads together.
‘Actually, I believe I belong to myself,’ she stated tartly. Even when she was married to Harry she had kept a fair measure of her independence. ‘A relationship is about partnership, not ownership!’
The two men looked at her with surprise, as if her opinion were an irrelevant intrusion, confirming her suspicion that their confrontation had little to do with her overstay on the dance-floor. It wasn’t really about her at all; she was merely an excuse for them to score off each other. She scowled.
‘I was referring to our emotional sense of belonging,’ Stephen hastily assured her, dipping his golden head to bathe her in apologetic attention.
Kalera was mollified, but the lick of scorn in Duncan’s navy eyes at her ready acceptance of Stephen’s reassurance made her inwardly bristle. How dared he try to imbue her with doubts about her fiancé’s sincerity?
She hugged Stephen’s arm and smiled up at him with a brilliance that relaxed some of his underlying tension.
‘I’m glad you came to find me—dancing has made me quite peckish again. I hope this dessert is as mouthwatering as you promised it would be…’ Repressed annoyance made her normally husky voice even throatier than usual, imparting a sexy resonance to the innocent statement. She began to turn and then paused, to deliver as a casual afterthought, ‘Oh—goodnight, Duncan.’
He ran a hand through his inky-black hair, drawing it back from his temples to expose the prominent widow’s peak that gave him a faintly devilish air as he challenged her unsubtle brush-off. ‘Does this mean you’re not going to offer me a bite of your apple?’ He planted his hands on his hips, the flare of his short jacket exposing his perfect proportioning to her unwilling admiration. ‘You know I wouldn’t refuse—I can resist everything except temptation.’
His grin pronounced him every inch the unrepentant sinner.
‘Precisely why I don’t intend to place any in your way,’ she replied acerbically. If he was referring to the fruit of knowledge, she thought that he had already dined spectacularly well enough off that particular tree!
When Duncan opened his mouth to respond, Stephen cut him off with a sternly punctuated dismissal.
‘Goodnight, Royal!’
His nemesis threw up his hands in a mocking gesture of surrende
r but Duncan still managed to have the last, provocative word. ‘Don’t stay out too late, Kalera—remember you and I have a date for breakfast…’
‘We have an early morning meeting with some clients at their hotel,’ Kalera explained hastily, matching her shorter stride to Stephen’s as he practically marched them off the floor. She didn’t dare glance back for fear that Duncan might take it as an invitation, half expecting him to tag along anyway, for the sheer pleasure of stirring up more trouble. But for once he seemed capable of discreetly fading into the background.
The ghost of his unsettling presence, however, continued to hover in her consciousness, a spectre at the feast. At least with the chafing-dish already set up at the table any awkward questions from Stephen were postponed and Kalera glued her eyes with apparent fascination on the chef’s hands as he swirled slices of peeled apple in a meld of butter, sugar, lemon juice and honey over the burner on his trolley. Unfortunately the price of her outer serenity was a churning stomach which cringed when the Kirsch was added and set alight.
The flames dancing across the sizzling fruit were unpleasantly evocative for one preoccupied with thoughts of temptation and sin. Surely sins of omission were at the lesser end of the scale? She was hardly likely to be condemned to an eternal roasting for not wanting to talk about a brief sexual encounter in her past. It wasn’t as if she had ever actively lied about it…
‘Thank you, this looks delicious.’ She pinned on an enthusiastic smile to mask her sudden lack of appetite as the apples were spooned, still flaming, onto her plate and topped with a swirl of Kirsch-flavoured cream, adding richness to the heady, alcoholic aroma of caramelised apple.
Guiltily aware of Stephen’s expectant gaze, Kalera forced herself to eat with every evidence of enjoyment and after the first few mouthfuls his attention thankfully shifted to his own portion, allowing her to ease back and toy with her dessert fork, dividing the apple into ever-smaller pieces which she nudged under the leafy garnish at the edge of her plate.
She was furious with Duncan, and with herself for letting him get under her skin. She wanted no part of whatever game he was playing. His interference in her private life was unconscionable, unwelcome and unacceptable—and she intended to tell him so!
Her brooding glance flitted across the room as she mentally composed the cool reprimand she would deliver the next morning and her eyes widened at a glitter of gold-on-black. Duncan! Not only was he still in the restaurant, he was dining heartily at a distant table for two in the company of a tall, elegant brunette with bobbed hair and hands that darted expressively as she talked. Her fire-engine-red dress and blazing jewellery proclaimed a striking sense of style and her strongly etched profile indicated an aggressive self-confidence.
Just the sort of woman who would appeal to Duncan’s flamboyant tastes, Kalera judged wryly—and not the type to take kindly to her handsome escort flitting off to dance with someone else, even if it was only his secretary. From the look of it Duncan was having to do some fast talking between bites. It would serve him right if his trouble-stirring had rebounded on himself. Kalera’s gentle mouth tilted into a small, vengeful smile. She hoped the brunette was giving him a really hard time.
‘Someone we know?’ Stephen quizzed the direction of her gaze.
‘I guess Duncan being here was a coincidence after all—he’s evidently out on a dinner date himself,’ she murmured, nodding towards the engrossed pair.
Stephen’s fork clattered against his plate and Kalera saw him pale, then flush with renewed outrage.
