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'Hadn't you better go?' she pointedly asked, turning away. 'Lynsey is still waiting, and heaven only knows what she thinks is happening in here! When you talk to her, you might make it clear that there's nothing going on between you and me!'
'After what she just saw?' he enquired softly, and she kept her back to him to hide the high colour in her face.
'Tell her you made a casual pass at me, but it didn't mean anything!'
'When I make a pass at a woman, it always means something,' he said, it means I fancy her.'
Prue bit her lip. So he fancied her, did he? She ought to be furious, resent the attitude that let him think he only had to reach out to get what he fancied, but although she was angry she couldn't help a secret little jab of pleasure. It was flattering, after all, to know Josh's pass had meant more than a passing impulse.
'Well. . . please, tell your sister to forget what she saw!' she pleaded.
'I might,' he drawled. 'And then again, I might not.'
'Oh, don't be so maddening!' Prue felt like hitting him again; except that from now on she meant to keep her distance at all times. She was never going to give Josh Killane another chance to lay a finger on her!
'If you want me to do you a favour, you'll have to promise to do one for me,' he said, smiling, and she eyed him suspiciously.
'What?'
'I want your promise that you'll come and see my mother, and make friends with her.'
Prue was faced with a dilemma. The last thing she wanted was to get to know his mother any better! But she had hated the way his sister had looked—that incredulous, shocked face! It had made Prue feel about two inches high. Josh had to talk to Lynsey, explain ...
'You will make Lynsey see that she mistook what was going on?
You'll tell her that we were quarrelling, not . . . not . . .'
'Making love?' he softly suggested; she looked at him with intense dislike.
'Yes. Tell her that it wasn't what. . . what it might . . . have looked like,' she muttered uncomfortably.
'I'll do my best,' he said, his smile sardonic. 'I'll lie to my sister if you'll be nice to my mother? Do we have a deal?'
'You won't have to lie to Lynsey!' Prue burst out,, resentfully, it's the truth—we were fighting . . not...'
'Not?' he silkily asked.
'Not making love!' she reluctantly got out. 'Tell her we were fighting.'
He narrowed his eyes at her, a mocking light in them. 'I love the way you fight!'
Prue ground her teeth, but resisted the instinct to retaliate. He watched her and waited, then laughed.
'So we have a deal?' he insisted, forcing her to say it.
'All right,' she muttered.
Her capitulation was not enough, it seemed. 'When will you visit my mother?' he demanded, and she turned on him, blazing with resentment, her hands screwed into fists at her sides.
'I don't know—some time tomorrow, OK?'
'Come for tea.'
'Oh, all right! Now, will you just go away and leave me in peace?'
'You have a hair-trigger temper, don't you?' he commented, as if curious about her, and her green eyes leapt with rage.
'That's right, and you're pushing it to the limit, Mr Killane! Get out, will you?'
