question took her by surprise. ‘That’s none of your business,’ she said indignantly.
‘It could be relevant to our discussion,’ he pointed out coolly. ‘If you do—’
‘We don’t.’ The moment the words were out she could have bitten her tongue, realising she’d fallen into his trap.
He laughed softly at her discomfort.
Knowing she must put an end to this dangerous têteà-tête, she gathered herself and, jumping to her feet, said abruptly, ‘I’d like to go back to the party.’
Rather to her surprise he rose and, with an air of satisfaction, as though he’d achieved his object, agreed, ‘Very well.’
Tucking her hand through his arm, he walked her back to the terrace, where lantern-light took the place of moonlight and the party was still going strong.
There was no sign of Roderick.
‘Have you eaten yet?’ Andrew Storm queried, steering her to one of the small empty tables.
Her only wish to get away, she shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry.’ A shade desperately, she added, ‘In fact I’m about ready for bed. I didn’t get much sleep last night.’
As though he knew exactly what had kept her awake and restless, Bel’s companion suggested smoothly, ‘Worried about something?’
Apart from the few who had to know, her father wanted news of any attempted take-over kept under wraps. Hurriedly she shook her head. ‘I expect it was this heatwave. I’m hot now…’
‘Then I’ll get you a drink. Some champagne perhaps?’
The thought of a drink was welcome, but she was not a lover of alcohol and she’d had more than enough for one night. ‘I’d prefer a fruit juice, please.’
Watching his broad back disappear into the throng, Bel cursed the ingrained good manners that had prevented her from saying a firm no thank you, and walking away.
Though she could come to no harm here, in the midst of all these people, Andrew Storm was the most disturbing, dangerous man she had ever met, and she felt wrung out.
One of the guests she’d been chatting to earlier said, ‘Roderick has been looking for you. He wondered if you’d gone to bed.’
‘Oh…’ Bel felt herself flushing. ‘I’ve been in the garden. Perhaps I’d better go and find him.’
But even as she started to rise Andrew Storm was back, carrying a jug of iced fruit juice and two glasses, which he proceeded to fill.
‘I chose the tropical. I hope that’s all right?’
‘Oh, yes, fine, thank you.’ The concoction was cool and refreshing, and she drank thirstily before remarking, ‘Something tastes quite strong.’
Taking a sip of his own, he considered. ‘The mango? Or possibly the lime?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Finishing the juice, she said awkwardly, ‘Well, I’d better go, Roderick has been looking for me.’
Andrew refilled her glass. ‘There’s quite a crowd still milling about, but if you sit here for a while he’s bound to find you. Or are you scared of me?’
‘Why on earth should I be?’ She managed to sound coolly amused.
He smiled a little, but said nothing.
Picking up her glass, she remarked, ‘You said you were a business acquaintance of Roderick’s…’
Having accepted the challenge, it seemed safer to take the initiative and make polite conversation while they finished their drinks. Then, if Roderick hadn’t ap peared, she could go in search of him without losing face.
‘Do you live in London?’
‘I have an apartment on Park Lane,’ Andrew Storm answered smoothly.
If he lived on Park Lane he certainly had money. Lots of money. Was it possible to be wealthy, successful, stunningly attractive and still single at his age? He must be in his early thirties…
‘Are you married?’ The question was out before she could prevent it.
‘Is that a proposal?’ he enquired interestedly.
Feeling gauche, and cursing her wayward tongue, she said as calmly as possible, ‘As you well know, I intend to marry Roderick.’
‘Pity. I’m firmly convinced that you and I are much better suited…And, in case you want to change your mind, I’m not married and never have been.’
In no mood for jokes, starting to feel a bit dizzy, she made an effort to gather her wits and get back on track. ‘Are you a banker?’
‘I own a merchant bank. Though I would class myself as a businessman rather than a banker.’
‘What line of business are you in?’
‘You could say I have varied and worldwide interests.’
She watched while he topped up her glass again, and, her words slightly slurred, asked, ‘Such as?’
His excellent teeth gleamed in a smile. ‘An oil well in Texas, a champagne house at Épernay, an opal mine in Coober Pedy, and an electronics company just outside Rome…Amongst other things.’
‘How interesting.’ For some reason she found it difficult to get her tongue round the word ‘interesting’, and her head began to droop, too heavy for her slender neck.
‘You’re looking rather tired,’ he observed solicitously.
Enunciating with great care, she said, ‘I am tired.’ Swallowing the last of her drink, she rose unsteadily. ‘Must say goodnight to Roderick…’
Andrew was on his feet and by her side. ‘He’s nowhere to be seen. Neither are our host and hostess.’
‘Oh…’ She swayed a little.
He put a steadying arm around her waist. ‘I was thinking of turning in myself. I’ll see you upstairs. Which room are you in?’
‘The rose room.’
‘Ah…That’s convenient. I’m in the jasmine room, which I believe is just next door.’
Blinking at him owlishly, she asked, ‘Are you staying the weekend?’
‘I’m staying for tonight, at least. If everything goes according to plan I shall probably leave for town in the morning…’
As he spoke he was steering her through the remaining revellers and, proving his familiarity with the house, taking the shortest way up the back stairs.
Opening her bedroom door, he paused, half supporting her, and bent to cover her mouth with his. Tiredness
