had missed the boat in a hundred and one ways.
At the end of the day Rachel still had a job, so she supposed she could count it a success. She’d gone for lunch with a group of girls from the office but although she had joined in the conversation and acted naturally, part of her—annoyingly—had kept repeating a post-mortem of the night before.
If she analysed it, she couldn’t quite understand why Zac Lawson had got under her skin the way he had. It hadn’t been so much what he’d said or done as the way he’d said and done it, she told herself. A certain inflexion, a tone of voice, a look, and perfectly mundane words could have a whole different meaning. Even simple words like ‘Thank you’ could change according to the way someone spoke or the expression on their face—it could be grateful or sarcastic or wry or a whole host of things. But however much she tried to wriggle out of it, she had to admit she’d been uncharacteristically belligerent from the second she’d set eyes on Jennie’s cousin. And she didn’t like herself for it.
She sighed as she pulled on her coat at the end of the day, after switching off her computer and tidying her desk. If she saw Zac again she’d be politely friendly, she determined, for Jennie’s sake. She didn’t like him—in fact, she’d never met a man she liked less—but that couldn’t be helped and Jennie needn’t know. And it wasn’t as if he would be around for long anyway; she could force herself to be civil to the poor man for the short time he was in the country if their paths crossed.
It was raining again when she walked down the steps of the office building and her umbrella was safely propped up in the hallstand at the flat. In the couple of years since she’d bought it, she’d only used it a handful of times, she reflected ruefully.
She had reached the pavement before she saw him, leaning nonchalantly against the wall of the building next door.
‘No umbrella again?’ The velvet voice with its faintest of Canadian undertones mocked her wide-eyed surprise. As he reached her, he sheltered her under his own black monster of an umbrella. ‘Do you actually like getting wet through?’
He’d slipped a casual arm round her waist as he’d drawn her out of the rain and she was aware of feeling very feminine against his broad-shouldered bulk. Then the dumbness brought about by shock faded and she found her voice. Carefully pulling back so there was a couple of inches between them, she said tightly, ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? Rescuing a damsel in distress.’
‘I’m not in distress.’
‘You would be if you walked home in this lot.’
The rain was coming down faster now, thudding on top of the umbrella in great icy drops that annoyingly backed up his statement. Rachel swallowed hard. He smelt divine. Whatever his aftershave was, it was worth every penny. ‘How do you know where I work?’
Stupid question, she thought in the next millisecond.
His dry voice backed up the thought when he murmured, ‘Jennie. I rang her and asked for the address and told her I wanted to take you out to dinner.’
‘But—’ She stopped abruptly, warning herself to be careful.
‘What?’ His eyes under their thick black lashes surveyed her.
‘Jennie said you’d told her last night you were busy this evening.’ And she could just imagine Jennie’s reaction to the news when Zac had phoned. She stared into the strong face, her gaze taking in a slight cleft in his chin she hadn’t noticed the evening before. She shivered. But not with cold.
He shrugged. ‘My plans changed. It happens.’
‘I—I can’t have dinner with you.’ Don’t stutter and stammer, for goodness’ sake, she told herself disgustedly.
‘Why not?’ His tone was more interested than offended.
He was nothing if not direct. But there was no way she was going to be intimidated. She indicated her briefcase. ‘I have work to do tonight and it can’t wait.’
‘That’s OK, you can do it later.’ He smiled, a slow, curving smile that made her stomach roll over and took the arrogance out of his declaration. ‘You would eat at some time tonight, why not with me? And you’ll work better on a full stomach. I do.’
Hotly aware that several of her co-workers were giving them interested glances as they passed, she muttered, ‘Jennie’s free tonight, ask her. I know she’d love to go to dinner with you.’
‘I don’t want to have dinner with Jennie, Rachel. I want to have dinner with you,’ he said softly. ‘And don’t look at me as though I’m the Marquis de Sade. I’m suggesting dinner, that’s all, and I promise you’ll be safely delivered home later.’
Her mouth fell open and then snapped shut. How dared he? She was so taken aback by his effrontery she didn’t know what to say for a moment. Suggesting she was some nervous teenager scared at the thought of dinner with a man! ‘If we are talking straight here, you know full well why I won’t have dinner with you,’ she said tartly. ‘It must have been obvious Jennie likes you, surely? I wouldn’t do anything to upset or offend her.’
‘And I like Jennie. She’s my cousin, there are childhood memories and all that sentimental stuff. But I have no wish to date her, Rachel, and I won’t pretend otherwise. I made that clear to Jennie today and she was quite philosophical about it, I promise. Her heart remains intact.’
He was laughing at her again—she knew it even if the tawny eyes were serious. She wished she had the will to turn round and walk away without another word, to cut him dead, but curiously she couldn’t do it. Somehow she managed to make her voice cool and polite as she said, ‘Nevertheless, I don’t think dinner is a good idea.’
Part of her was still numb with disbelief that he wanted to have dinner with her, especially when Jennie had made it clear how she felt. And then a thought occurred. Maybe that was exactly why he had asked her? If he didn’t fancy Jennie then the best way to make it clear was to take another woman out.
‘I think dinner’s a wonderful idea,’ he said smoothly, ‘but let’s discuss it in comfort, shall we?’
Before she knew where she was he had bundled her into the taxi that had been waiting at the kerb. She hadn’t realised it was Zac’s and as he slid in beside her she was tempted to exit the other side, but something in the hard male face told her he would simply haul her back in. She wouldn’t put anything past him, she told herself bitterly before she said, ‘I’d like to go to the flat, please.’ She glared at him defiantly.
‘And you shall. Later.’
Rachel hated the mocking lift to his voice. She listened as he gave the name of a famous restaurant a few blocks away to the driver. It cost an arm and a leg to eat there.
‘This could be termed kidnapping, you know,’ she said stiffly.
His irritating eyebrows—irritating because they had a way of arching up in a manner guaranteed to provoke—rose. ‘Surely not,’ he murmured lazily, turning to survey her with one arm along the back of the seat behind her head. He was wearing a heavy black overcoat, which intensified his dark maleness, and Rachel breathed out carefully. ‘I’m a stranger to your city and I’m asking you to spend a couple
