strong and milky and sweet, just how he liked it, and carried it through.
He looked surprised. ‘Aren’t you having one?’
‘When I’m headachy, coffee only makes it worse. I’ll have some cocoa when I go to bed.’ And please let it be soon, she prayed silently.
Patting the empty place beside him, he invited, ‘Why don’t you come and sit by me and relax for a while? It isn’t eleven yet.’
Carefully, she said, ‘I know it’s not late, but I’m feeling rotten…’
‘I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking.’ He downed his coffee in a few gulps and, scrambling hurriedly to his feet, made for the door. ‘I’m nothing but a stupid oaf.’
‘You’re a dear.’ In the open doorway she stood on tiptoe to touch her lips to his cheek.
His ears turning bright red, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her with clumsy fervour.
Though awkward, his kiss wasn’t unpleasant, and she stood quietly in his embrace for a few seconds before gently freeing herself.
‘I’ll call you some time tomorrow,’ he promised, and shambled to his car.
With the utmost relief, Annis closed the door and locked up.
Wanting only the oblivion of sleep, she hurried to get ready for bed, trying not to think of Zan Power. But, filling her mind with an overwhelming hatred, his powerful presence was there, all invasive, his darkly handsome face printed indelibly on her retinas.
As it had been since the first moment she’d set eyes on him more than three years ago.
Then he’d been responsible for destroying almost everything she’d held dear.
For months she’d been obsessed with thoughts of him and, harbouring a fierce need for revenge, had wanted him to suffer as he’d caused her and her family to suffer.
Her anger, her bitter animosity towards the man she’d caught only the one fleeting glimpse of had been so strong, so all-consuming, that it had taken her a long time to wake up to the fact that if she allowed such feelings to go on he’d end up destroying her too.
Making a valiant effort, she’d pushed him to the back of her mind, caused his image to fade, started to win the struggle to put the past behind her.
Until tonight.
Coming face to face with him again out of the blue had brought all the old torment and bitterness flooding back. Undone, in a split-second, everything she’d achieved in the preceding months.
It had also brought her a new and frightening anxiety. Was his stated intention to own her just some macho game? Or had she reason to feel afraid, menaced?
Her head was aching to such an extent that it was difficult to think clearly. But surely in the cold light of day his threat would just seem ridiculous?
She was brushing out the heavy silk hair which fell almost to her waist, gripping the brush until her knuckles showed white, when the doorbell pealed, startling her.
The thought that maybe Linda had gone into labour and Richard needed her to look after the twins sent her hurrying into the living-room.
Though surely he’d have rung her?
As she hesitated, she spotted Stephen’s burgundy scarf lying on the settee, and picked it up with an exasperated sigh. The light was still on so he would know she wasn’t yet in bed. Though why on earth he’d bothered to come back for it…!
A quick glance through the central peephole proved her conjecture right, providing a glimpse of white evening shirt-front and black bow-tie.
She pressed up the catch and unfastened the safety chain, but what she’d been about to say died on her lips as, shock exploding inside her, she gaped at the man filling her threshold.
Before she could make any attempt to collect her scattered wits he’d walked past her as if he owned the place and closed the door behind him.
Looming tall and decidedly dangerous, those amazing green-gold eyes with their thick sooty lashes fixed on her, Zan Power dominated the small room.
Tossing the scarf aside, she asked jerkily, ‘What are you doing here? What do you want?’
His eyes holding hers, he smiled without answering. The irresistible allure of that smile and the certain knowledge that what he wanted was her threw her totally.
Panic-stricken, she cried, ‘Get out! Go on, get out before I call the police.’
Raising narrow black brows, he stood aside so she could get to the phone. ‘Call them, by all means. But what will you tell them? How will you justify such an extreme course of action?’
She stood, trembling in every limb, while her common sense told her she had lost her head and behaved stupidly, given him an added advantage.
Somehow she reined in the runaway panic and, slowly unclenching her hands, admitted, ‘I’m afraid I over-reacted. But you took me by surprise.’
When he made no comment, just continued to stand and look at her, she added awkwardly, ‘It’s getting late and I was about to go to bed.’
She wished she hadn’t said that when his eyes travelled assessingly over her fine Victorian-style cotton nightdress with its long sleeves and high neck, the smooth hair tumbling down her back like pale silk, the bare feet.
His inspection completed, he smiled mockingly. ‘Don’t worry, you’re quite decent.’ Then, briskly, ‘I want to talk to you.’
Zan Power’s voice, clear and low-pitched, with that very faint accent which lent it such devilish charm, sent shivers running up and down her spine.
Pressing slim fingers to her throbbing temples, she waited.
He indicated a chair. ‘Won’t you sit down?’ It was an order in spite of the polite phrasing.
Clearly he intended the tête-à-tête…confrontation…whatever, to be on his terms.
Recognising the futility of trying to oppose him, she sat down, deliberately choosing a different chair.
Amusement flickered briefly in the tawny eyes, before he queried, ‘Where do you keep your aspirin?’
She was surprised into answering, ‘In the bathroom cabinet.’
‘You haven’t taken any?’
‘No.’
Without a word he disappeared through the partly open door to return a few moments later with half a tumbler of water and two round white tablets, which he transferred from his palm to hers.
‘I can tell by the tension in your neck and shoulders that you’ve got a headache.’ Handing her the tumbler, he continued with wry humour, ‘I could get rid of it with a few minutes’ massage, but after your earlier reaction I hesitate to lay a finger on you, even for therapeutic purposes.’
Thank
