Page 12 of A Wild Affair

She unbuttoned her camelhair coat with fingers which were not very steady and Joe took off his leather jacket and flung it over a chair. He moved so lightly that she wasn't aware of it until she felt him right behind her, sliding her coat off her shoulders, his cool fingers brushing lightly against her neck. A shiver ran through her and she involuntarily flinched.

'Don't get uptight,' he said in a brisk voice. 'I'm not about to make a heavy pass.'

'I didn't think you were!' Quincy denied, her face flushing.

'You're lying in your teeth,' he accused, tossing her coat down on top of his jac

ket, the little movement tightening the fit of that silk shirt, making her very conscious of the powerful lean body under it. He put a finger on the side of her throat where a tiny pulse was beating violently. 'What's that?' he asked, angry mockery in his black eyes. 'Do you think I don't know your heart's going like a steam-hammer?'

'Not for you!' Quincy mumbled incoherently, pulling away. 'You don't make my heart miss a beat, Mr Aldonez. If I'm flushed, it's the central heating in here, it's far too warm.'

'Oh, is that what it is?' he asked in a soft, intimate voice which made her swallow with alarm, taking another step nearer, making Quincy instinctively back even further. Her legs came up against the elegant brocade couch behind her and, off balance, she abruptly sat down on it.

That was a mistake. Joe was sitting beside her a second later, his thigh against her, leaning towards her, his body twisted so that he could look into her startled, alarmed eyes.

'Can you see in the dark?' he asked.

The question baffled her. 'What?' she said, totally at sea. What was he talking about?

'You have eyes like a cat,' he explained. 'As green as grass and full of spitting defiance—I wouldn't like to feel those little claws, I bet they're as sharp as razors.' His fingers curled round one of her hands and lifted it, spread across his palm, the pearly nails gleamed. 'They don't look sharp,' he added, his mouth curving in a smile. 'But I suspect they're as deceptive as the rest of you.'

Quincy looked at him uneasily—he was flirting with her quite deliberately, she was not so innocent that she did not understand that. At such close quarters he was almost hypnotic, a man of sexual magnetism who knew precisely how he could affect a woman when he looked into her eyes, the self-assured glitter of his dark gaze riveting her attention in spite of her common sense. The fact that he had 'dangerous' written all over him merely intensified the threat he exuded. Quincy could not help wondering what it would feel like to be in his arms again, to have that firm, male mouth compelling her lips to submit. When he kissed her the first time she had been too dazed to enjoy the experience—it had happened too fast, too inexplicably. In spite of her determination to be calm and controlled whenever he was around, she had been a prey to helpless fantasies about that kiss, wishing she could run the moment again, like some slow-motion replay.

'Lost your tongue?' he enquired drily when she was silent.

'I wasn't saying anything because I haven't got anything to say,' Quincy threw, back crossly, glaring at him.

'There's a novelty,' he mocked. 'A woman who doesn't talk if she hasn't anything to say—you must be unique. I'm surprised you're still wandering around fancy-free—are all the men in your life blind?'

'No,' Quincy said demurely, looking down.

She felt him watching her. 'I didn't think to ask,' he said, in an altered voice. 'Is there someone in your life?'

'What business of yours is that?' she asked, and his fingers closed round her chin, lifting it until he could see her green eyes.

'Is there?' he insisted, then a sudden frown pulled his brows together. 'Now I remember it, there was someone with you last night, wasn't there? When you opened the door I got a vague impression of a guy lurking in the background. I'd forgotten him. Who was it?'

'Brendan,' Quincy said. 'My father's partner.'

'Married?' he asked quickly, and she shook her head. 'How old is he?' Joe demanded.

'Thirty.'

His mouth twisted and he released her. 'And does he harbour ideas of marrying into the practice?' he asked in a light, mocking voice. 'Does he fancy you, Quincy?'

'What if he does?' she asked, something inside her prickling angrily. Had he imagined that she had no boy-friends? Quincy's pride rebelled against the idea that Joe had decided she was unlikely to have other men in her life.

He leaned back, his hands clasped behind his head, the long supple body at rest.

'I suppose it would be very suitable,' he drawled in a dry voice. 'Your parents would approve—they wouldn't be losing a daughter, just acquiring another vet.'

'I don't think that's funny,' Quincy flared. Her temper shot away from her and she added furiously: 'What's the matter, Mr Aldonez? Disappointed to discover I'm not going to be quite the push-over you expected? If you had the idea that I was going to fall into your arms without a qualm, you'd better think again. I've agreed to go through with this ridiculous cheap publicity stunt, but only under pressure. As far as I'm concerned, the sooner this is all over, the better I'll like it. I shan't enjoy pretending to think you're the best thing since sliced bread, I hate telling lies, even when there seems to be no alternative. You should have hired an actress to play the part of an adoring fan, she might have done a much better job. I won't find it quite so easy to pretend.'

Joe had sat listening to her, his face changing, until by the time she had run out of steam he was staring at her, no longer a charming, mocking man with teasing dark eyes, but a man carved out of flint; features hard and grim, eyes glittering.

CHAPTER THREE

Before he could react, however, someone tapped at the door of the suite and a moment later the floor waiter wheeled a laden table into the sitting-room, bowing to them as he courteously said: 'Good day, m'sieur, mademoiselle.'

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