dark blue eyes roved down over her figure, inspecting the soft draping of her lemon silk blouse and narrow green linen skirt as if he somehow expected to see the culprit’s fingerprints emblazoned on the fabric. There was something almost possessive about the protective survey and a wave of unwelcome warmth swept over Kalera’s skin as his frowning gaze skimmed over the firm thrust of her small breasts. She sternly smothered a little thrill of illicit awareness with the ease of long practice and took a huffing breath.
‘For goodness’ sake, Duncan, will you shut up and let me explain? I’m not being harassed!’ She tried to tug her hand from his but he wouldn’t let her go.
‘Then why are you blushing?’
‘Because I’m embarrassed that you could think I wouldn’t know how to handle a simple case of sexual harassment by myself.’
He scowled, his thumb absently rubbing over her captured fingers. ‘You shouldn’t have to handle it on your own; that’s the point.’
‘Well, it’s a moot point because, as I said, no one’s harassing me—’ She stopped, disconcerted, as his expression froze into shocked stillness.
Did he think she was lying? Goodness, surely he didn’t really believe that Kalera was so irresistibly alluring that she must inevitably be the target of sexual predators! Although she was passably attractive she wasn’t the type of woman to drive men to extremes. When she refused to respond to their overtures they typically backed off with a shrug. And at work, taking the lead from their boss, the males had always treated her with a friendliness tempered by respect.
She frowned as she reached the only logical reason for him to jump to such a ridiculous conclusion. ‘Why are you asking me this—have you received a complaint about someone in the office?’
Duncan wasn’t listening. His head had snapped down and he was staring at the bare fingers of her left hand.
‘You’ve taken off your wedding and engagement rings!’ His voice was hoarse with disbelief as his thumb probed the smooth, slightly shiny white band of flesh which contrasted with the light tan of the rest of her hand. His normally mobile and expressive features retained their frozen blankness as he demanded, ‘Why aren’t you wearing Harry’s rings?’
Kalera’s newly exposed skin was proving to be uncomfortably sensitive and the light rasping of the pad of Duncan’s thumb against the tiny indentations in her finger sent a feathery tingle shooting up her arm.
‘They’re in my drawer at home…I thought—it was time to put them away,’ she stumbled, her fingers curling into her palm, forming a small fist that silently rejected the disturbing nature of his touch.
He withdrew it instantly, but instead of rising to his feet he rocked slightly back on the balls of his feet, his bent knees brushing the sides of her calves as he steadied himself by placing his hands on the arms of her chair. His rigid expression thawed, a dark emotion flaring in the navy eyes as he looked up into her flushed face.
‘Past time,’ he agreed, and the hint of satisfaction in his tone made her stiffen defensively, twisting her hands in her lap.
‘I’ll never forget Harry—’
‘Of course you won’t. But he died two years ago…you didn’t,’ he said with his usual devastating bluntness. ‘You have nothing to feel uneasy about, Kalera. You honoured his memory with a decent period of mourning…’ His voice softened. ‘You honoured both of them. Now you’re obviously ready to move on—to start looking at all the opportunities life has to offer a woman of today.’
His mouth curved into an approving smile. It was the perfect opening and she eagerly snatched it.
‘I’m glad you think so, because that’s exactly what’s happened,’ she said, taking a deep breath before she announced, ‘I got engaged last night.’
‘You what?’ He was still smiling—that faint, whimsical, sexy crook of his lips that had women toppling for him like ninepins—and Kalera could see him thinking that he had obviously misheard.
‘Last night…someone I’ve been seeing…I—he asked me to marry him…’
She faltered to a stop as she was witness to a sight unique in her experience: Duncan Royal stunned speechless. He looked like a man who had been hit over the head with a mallet. His quizzical smile vanished and his jaw sagged. His mouth opened and closed but the only sound that came out was a breathy wheeze. His olive complexion paled, accentuating the twin crescents of darker skin curving below the inner corners of his eyes and making him look as haggard as he was handsome. If it hadn’t been for his anchoring grip on her chair Kalera got the distinct impression that he would have toppled on his backside on the carpet.
He was, quite literally, floored!
In any other circumstances Kalera would have been highly amused. Duncan enjoyed jolting people out of their complacency and dropping verbal bombshells was one of his favourite methods of hijacking conversations. To turn the tables on him so effectively was quite a considerable feat. But she knew the peaceful state of suspended animation would not last very long.
‘We went out to dinner and he asked me to marry him and I said yes,’ she expanded hastily, hoping to stave off the barrage of questions she could see forming in his eyes. ‘So when I got home I took my old rings off. I can’t very well wear them when I’m engaged to someone else…although maybe I’ll wear the solitaire as a dress ring later, when—after we’re married…’
Duncan’s unblinking gaze moved down to her slender right hand, curled protectively at her waist, and she realised that he was seeking concrete proof of her claim.
‘I haven’t got a new engagement ring yet because we’re going to choose it together—tonight after work, as a matter of fact…’
Duncan shook his head once, violently, like a seasoned fighter emerging from a standing count. For once his intellect was lagging far behind the pace as he said slowly, ‘You’ve been seeing someone else?’
Kalera’s shoulders twitched in an awkward shrug. ‘As you just pointed out, Harry’s been gone two years now—’
‘You’ve been seeing another man?’
And to think Kalera had always felt inferior to his towering intellect! She couldn’t stop a bubble of nervous laughter escaping her throat. ‘Well, I certainly haven’t been dating other women. Besides, same-sex marriages are illegal, so there wouldn’t be much point in my becoming engaged to—’
Her feeble joke didn’t even bring a glimmer of humour to his expression. If anything it seemed to stoke his outrage.
‘You’ve been dating?’ He shoved her chair so it skidded back on its casters and stood up, fists planted on his lean hips. ‘Just how long has this been going on?’
‘A few months,’ she confessed, although in practical terms it had actually been much less than that.
His dark brows snapped together. ‘A few months! You’ve been seeing other men for months without even mentioning it?’
He made it sound as if she had been living a secret life of rampant promiscuity. One minute he was urging her to get over losing Harry, the next he was making her feel guilty for pre-empting his advice.
‘Not
