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'They can't do that,' Liza said blankly. 'That's trespassing. They can't walk through my garden and look in my windows!'
'They're the Press—they think they can do what they like!"
'I'll call the police!"
'Do that," Keir said drily as though he didn't believe she would, and Liza bristled because the only reason why she hadn't called the police yesterday to report the crash was because she did not want the Press alerted as to her presence at the cottage. Since the Press now knew she was there, it no longer mattered if she called the police.
'I will, don't worry," she said furiously, trying to break away from the hard grasp of his hands on her back. 'Let go of me!" she insisted and Keir looked down into her face, a funny, crooked smile curling his mouth.
i like you better like this," he murmured, and his voice was deep and warm and sexy, and Liza felt her skin break out in goose-bumps as though in fear, which was crazy, because why should a man's voice make her scared? But she was scared, she looked back at him nervously, her pupils huge and her throat pulsing violently.
'I'm going to ring the police. Let go,' she said in a stilted little voice she tried to make normal.
'With your hair down and your face flushed, just out of bed," he continued softly, one hand slowly moving up her back, stroking and pressing along her spine.
'Stop that," she said, her voice rising.
'Why are you shaking?' asked Keir, watching her, and his hand reached the back of her neck and pushed into the cloudy blonde hair lying heavily on the nape. She shivered as his fingertips caressed her neck.
'Rage,' Liza said through her teeth. 'I'm shaking with rage! Will you get your hands off me? We may be marooned together in this house for a little while, but that doesn't give you any rights. Get away from me and stay away, or I swear I'll maim you, Mr Zachary! And don't think I don't know how, because when I started modelling I soon discovered I needed some lessons in self-defence and I could do you some nasty injuries, believe me, without needing any weapon but my own two hands.'
He looked at her with incredulity and then mocking amusement. 'Amazon!' But his hands dropped and Liza darted away again, her knees weak and her legs only just bearing her weight. She didn't know why she felt so lightheaded; she hardly knew Keir Zachary and he certainly wasn't the first man to make a pass at her. She had fought off far too many other men without ever getting this funny, swimming sensation which was dangerously close to fainting, so why should Keir Zachary do this to her? She knew nothing about him, she didn't know if she like him much; in fact, she was beginning to dislike him intensely. He was
taking advantage of being alone here with her; he seemed to think it funny to scare the living daylights out of her. He was not a nice man.
'You're not what I'd have expected,' he said thoughtfully, staring at her with narrowed eyes. 'Aren't models usually rather more . . . experienced?' The hesitation made the question insulting. What he really meant was: don't models usually go to bed with any man who shows an interest? Liza glared back at him, her teeth together.
When she could speak, she said icily, 'We come in all shapes and sizes, we aren't identical! I don't sleep around, Mr Zachary, so keep your hands to yourself in future."
He didn't believe her, she could see that; his cynical amusement made her even angrier, but there was no point in insisting that she was telling the truth. Let him think what he liked. If he tried to touch her again she would hit him so hard he wouldn't need another warning!
'I'm going to ring the police and ask them to come and send those men on their way!' she told him, turning.
'They won't,' he drawled indifferently. 'They never do. There's no law against sitting in a car on the public road, you see. If they commit a crime, the police can act, but the Press are far too sharp to get caught doing anything illegal. The police will just talk to them and go away and the reporter and his chum will sit out there until the crack of doom.'
'We'll see about that," Liza said determined to make somebody do something. The police were polite, but not exactly breathing fire and brimstone. They said more or less what Keir Zachary had said- unless the journalists broke the law they had every right to park their car on the public highway and sit in it.
'Unless they're in a no-parking zone?' the policeman suggested helpfully, and Liza grimly said they weren't, but would he send someone along to talk to the men, anyway? That might scare them off. He said he would ask one of his cars to drop by on their usual round, but they were very busy.
'I didn't realise this was such a criminal area,' Liza said, but the sarcasm was water off a duck's back.
'We get our share,' the policeman said and hung up. Liza put the receiver down and began to walk away. The phone rang and she went and picked it up, but a voice began to gabble questions at her and she slammed the receiver down again, then took it off the hook and left it on the hall table.
'How are you going to get away?' she asked Keir Zachary, who was cooking in the kitchen. He had found a tin of ham and one of tomatoes, and he was making one of his extraordinary meals. Liza wished she wasn't hungry, but she was; emotion made her hungry. She stood there looking at his hard profile and hating him. If he hadn't been there in his car in the mist she wouldn't have run into him and he wouldn't be here, cluttering up her life.
'They'll get tired of waiting,' he said, with an optimism she could not share. 'But we may run out of food in the meantime.'
'If you stop using every tin in my larder, we may manage,' Liza said bitterly.
'There's some flour and a packet of yeast—you could make some bread for tea,' he said cheerfully and she wailed in fury.
'You aren't going to be here for tea! You're leaving here soon, even if I have to put a paper bag over your head and make you run for it.'
'It won't come to that,' he said. 'Lay the table, this is nearly ready.'
'What do you call that concoction?' Liza asked as she obeyed him.
'Ham and tomatoes,' he mocked, sliding her a sideways grin, but she was not in a mood to be friendly to him. He was the cause of all this hassle; why hadn't he left before that photographer arrived?
