on earth was he so obsessed with her unlocking the door? What did he—no, he couldn't think that! God, if she were the type to commit suicide she would have done it years ago, and over a much more worthwhile man than Caleb Steele.
She straightened, her head back proudly. ‘I'll be out as soon as I've showered. Would you please order me a taxi so that I can leave immediately?'
For a moment that was silence on the other side of the door. ‘Very well,’ he bit out coldly, no longer so close to the door. ‘The hysterics are over, I take it? he derided.
She stiffened. ‘You can rest assured that I don't intend using your razor to cut my wrists!'
‘That might be a little difficult,’ he drawled. ‘I use an electric shaver!'
Cat bristled indignantly at his mockery. ‘I could always used it as a saw!'
A soft throaty chuckle answered her anger. ‘Your name does fit, Cat,’ he murmured admiringly. ‘You spit and claw right back, don't you?'
‘I thought you already knew that,’ she reminded bitterly.
‘I told you,’ he said softly. ‘I didn't make love to you last night.'
Was he telling the truth? She didn't know. But she desperately needed to believe that he was, slowly unlocking and opening the door, looking up at him anxiously, coal-black eyes staring straight back at her. And she could read nothing from them, years of deliberately shielding his emotions making that impossible. Cat continued to stare back at him.
‘You were already in my bed when I got home,’ Caleb Steele told her briskly. ‘And by that time I was too damned tired to care who I shared my bed with!'
Cat's face drained of colour, leaving two deep green pools of bewildered hurt.
‘How the hell old are you that it shocks you out of your mind to even think of sharing a bed with a man?’ He scowled at the accusation in her expression.
‘Old enough,’ she muttered.
‘For what?’ He turned away disgustedly, his hands thrust into the pockets of his trousers, pulling the material taut across his thighs.
‘For whatever,’ she returned sharply.
‘Eighteen isn't old enough for whatever!’ he rasped, scowling heavily. ‘Is there anyone that's going to be worried by your non-appearance last night?’ he suddenly frowned.
She thought of Vikki, and then as quickly dismissed her friend and flatmate. Vikki would probably be gleefully lying in wait for her when she got home, demanding to know all the details, had been urging her for years to take a lover.
‘You mean like a father or brother?’ She arched honey-blonde brows at him.
His mouth was tight. ‘Or a husband?'
Her laugh was brittle. ‘God, yes, I could be married, couldn't I?’ she said hardly.
‘Are you?’ Black eyes were narrowed, as if he didn't like the idea of sharing a bed with a married woman, under any circumstances.
‘No,’ she assured him flatly. ‘Nor engaged, nor seeing anyone seriously. I don't have a brother and my parents live in Cornwall, so you needn't worry about Daddy coming after you with a shotgun!'
‘Is that a possibility?’ Caleb Steele asked slowly.
‘Not if it's true that we didn't make love.’ There was a question in the statement.
‘And if it isn't true?’ he grated.
She shrugged. ‘Then my father is old-fashioned enough to want his grandchild to have a father. But you were telling the truth when you said we didn't make love, weren't you?’ Anxiety darkened her eyes, although her expression remained bland.
He considered her for long, timeless minutes before nodding abruptly. ‘I'd been in a meeting for over forty-eight hours; I have union trouble.’ There was a resigned twist to his mouth. ‘But yesterday was Luke's birthday—–'
‘It was?’ Cat gasped; it hadn't been like any other birthday party she had ever gone to!
‘It was,’ he nodded, giving an impatient sigh as he watched her continually hitch the sheet over her breasts in an effort to keep it in place, turning with leashed energy to push open one of the mirrored doors to his wall-length wardrobe, searching inside.
‘Do you have a mirror fetish?’ Cat burst out impetuously, fascinated by the way there were mirrors everywhere, even on two walls in the adjoining bathroom; it had come as something of a shock to see the tousled reflection of herself across the width of the luxurious room, the sunken jacuzzi meaning she had an unhindered full-length view of herself!
He turned briefly to give her a dismissive glance. ‘If you're expecting me to say they were already in the house when I moved in you're going to be disappointed,’ he drawled, taking out a dark brown robe. ‘Here, put this on.’ He held it out to her.
She gratefully took the robe, then looked down awkwardly at the sheet, wondering how she was going to go from one to the other and still maintain her modesty.
‘Let's not go through that again,’ Caleb Steele whipped the sheet from around her body, holding out the robe for her to put her arms into. ‘You were naked when I climbed into bed next to you last night, and you didn't even have the sheet on you when I woke up this morning!’ he dismissed impatiently.
‘That isn't the point,’ a red-faced Cat snapped, quickly turning to put her arms into the robe.
‘Because you're awake now?’ he mocked. ‘There,’ he murmured softly. ‘That's why I like mirrors.'
She froze, slowly turning her head to look at him, but he was staring up at the ceiling, and with the heated colour darkening her cheeks she reluctantly followed his gaze.
She had her arms thrust into the sleeves of the robe but he hadn't yet put the material in place about her shoulders, her back arched, her breasts thrust out invitingly. The reflection reminded her all too forcibly that earlier she had issued a similar invitation—and that he had accepted!
She pulled the robe about her in hurried movements, her cheeks burning as she tied the belt about her slender waist, the thigh-length robe reaching down past her knees, the sleeves falling down over her hands as she straightened her arms.
‘Let me.’ Caleb Steele moved to turn up the sleeves, treating her with all the resigned patience of an adult dealing with a recalcitrant child. ‘I could snap you in half and not even know I'd done it,’ he murmured as if to himself.
‘I'd know you had done it,’ she told him with feeling.
The coal-black eyes became even darker, the cynical light going out of them to be replaced by a surprising warmth, before that stern mouth actually curved into a grin, deep grooves etched into his cheeks, his teeth very white against his tanned flesh.
Cat's eyes widened like a surprised feline. ‘Why do you hide all that dental work?’ she once again spoke without thinking first. ‘I mean, you rarely smile,’ she tried to amend, grimacing her embarrassment as she
