noticeably. But since I had no idea what you’d prefer—you might, for instance, be a vegetarian, or allergic to shellfish, or hate cheese—I thought I’d better bring a selection.’
‘That was thoughtful.’
‘I’m a thoughtful man. Ask anyone.’
She peeked into the carrier, because continuing to stare at him was not smart. It would give him the wrong idea—or possibly the right one; whichever it was, it wouldn’t be good. Besides, looking at him was making her feel dizzy…
‘I seem to be spoilt for choice,’ she said, taking her time over her selection. Gathering her composure, the strength to dismiss him. The feelings he provoked in her pathetic body were too powerful to be ignored, laughed away. She had to protect herself. Send him away. Now.
She stared in the bag. There were more sandwiches than one person could eat in a week—even supposing that person ever wanted to eat again—but for some reason she couldn’t read the labels clearly, so she picked out the first one that came to hand. She blinked and saw that it was smoked salmon with cream cheese on dark rye bread. The man had taste; she’d give him that.
‘For future reference, Sebastian,’ she said, as she placed it on the workbench beside her. ‘In the unlikely event that you should ever be tempted to do this again. I’m not a vegetarian, I love shellfish, and I believe cheese to be the food of the gods.’ Then, handing the carrier back to him, she dug deep for a smile and said, ‘Thank you. Thoughtful indeed. I shall enjoy it later. When I’ve finished work.’
Then she quickly turned back to her drawing board in what she hoped he would understand was a gesture of dismissal. Brushed away a spot of something wet that landed on her drawing board. Waited for him to walk out of her life.
When he didn’t take the hint—she hadn’t really expected him to; if she were honest hadn’t really wanted him to—she tried just a bit harder with, ‘Can you find your own way out?’
CHAPTER THREE
SEBASTIAN shook his head. Not because finding his way out of her apartment was beyond him, but in total admiration of her insouciance.
Having been turned down for lunch, he’d gone out on a limb in his attempt to charm her but she still wasn’t having any of it.
‘You are a class act, Matty Lang.’
She had the grace to smile. ‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t thank me. It wasn’t a compliment.’
Except, of course, it was and they both knew it. He admired that kind of cool. Her ability to remain completely unimpressed by humility from a man not given to such gestures. Or maybe she recognised the truth: that he wasn’t used to taking no for an answer.
‘You won’t object if I call a cab before you kick me out?’ he asked, raising the stakes a little as he took out his cellphone.
‘You came by cab?’
‘No. Why? Do you have something against them?’
She pulled her lips tight against her teeth, as if trying very hard not to smile, trying very hard not change her mind and ask him to stay.
‘Not at all,’ she replied, once she had the smile under control. ‘I just wondered why you didn’t use your car. When you’d gone through such agony to acquire it. Of course you’d have got a parking ticket, but even so…’
‘Actually, I walked…’ Damn! No…
‘Good for you. Why don’t you just walk back?’
The smile, he could see, was making a bid for freedom. She’d enjoyed his discomfort. Would probably split her sides if he made an absolute idiot of himself trying to avoid touchy words like ‘walk’ as if they were landmines. Well, two could play at that game…
‘I’d probably faint from lack of nourishment. But don’t worry, I’ll stand out in the street if you’d prefer.’
‘After you’ve gone to such trouble to provide me with lunch?’
An errant dimple appeared just above the right-hand corner of her mouth.
‘Would I be that unkind?’ she asked.
‘Apparently,’ he said. ‘If you were in the least bit grateful you’d have invited me to join you.’
She laid a hand against her heart and said, ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Did you want to stay?’
‘Witch,’ he said, quite unable to stop himself from laughing. But then, that was why he was here. Because even when he’d been at a truly low point she’d made him smile.
‘That’s better.’
‘You prefer insults to charm?’
‘Of course. Charm is so…easy. Insults, on the other hand, have an astringent, refreshing quality. So much more honest. Sit down; make your call.’
Better, he thought, making himself at home on her sofa, scrolling through the numbers stored in his phone as if looking for a cab company, but taking his time about it.
‘So, is that the secret?’ he asked, as if more absorbed in the phone than in her answer. ‘I have to call you names if I want to spend a little time with you?’
‘You get to make one phone call,’ she told him. ‘Conversation is not included.’
Matty wasn’t fooled for a minute. Sebastian Wolseley wasn’t calling a cab, he was just going through the motions, spinning out the time, hoping she’d relent and ask him to stay.
Why?
What did he want from her?
Lunch, the sandwiches… He wouldn’t be pushing it so hard unless he wanted something.
‘I asked you to have dinner with me on Saturday,’ he went on, as if he hadn’t heard, ‘and you dismissed me in favour of chatting up a journalist.’
He pressed the call button, waited. Disconnected.
‘Engaged,’ he said in response to her unspoken question. Then, looking up suddenly and catching her staring at him, ‘I invite you for lunch at the most romantic restaurant in town and you say you’re too busy. And you’re not even going to invite me to stay and share your very brief lunch break, despite the fact that I provided the sandwiches.’
‘You said it,’ she replied. ‘I’m a witch. For my next trick, if you’re not out of here in thirty seconds, I turn you into a frog.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ He had the feeling she wasn’t fooled by his phone act, so this time he hit dial before he lifted the phone to his ear. This time it really was engaged… ‘Wouldn’t you have to kiss me to reverse the spell?’
Matty wished that didn’t sound so appealing. She was already finding it hard enough to stop herself from staring at his mouth. And now he’d put the idea into her head…
‘Oh,
