to trouble you, Mr Pryor,’ he said pleasantly, ‘but we’ve had a complaint laid that you rammed somebody out there in the bay.’
Daniel Pryor’s dark eyes took on a stormy expression and his chin set into a hard line.
‘Perhaps we can go inside the clubhouse and discuss the matter in private,’ he said.
‘Yes, sir,’ agreed the policeman.
Beth scuffled along between them in her overlarge thongs, trying not to think about the disturbing responses which Daniel Pryor’s nearness awoke in her. In any case, she had plenty of other problems to worry about. What really had happened out there in the bay? Had the motor launch really sunk so fast? And, if so, just whose fault was it? And what would happen to Warren if he was responsible?
Reaching the clubhouse, Daniel held open the door for her and ushered her inside. Then, after a quick word to an official, he led her into a private office along with the policeman.
‘Please sit down, Officer,’ he invited. ‘But if you don’t mind we’ll make this as brief as possible. The young lady has an important appointment to keep.’
Beth’s dark eyebrows met in a puzzled line. Do I? she thought. What appointment? But Daniel was already talking again. Striding across the room to a whiteboard that hung on one wall, he picked up a red felt pen and began drawing a diagram, while he explained rapidly what had happened. The conversation immediately became too technical for Beth to follow with its talk of port tacks, starboard tacks, figure-of-eights and wind directions. But the policeman was nodding attentively. In a few moments he closed his notebook with a snap and nodded with a satisfied expression.
‘Seems like an open-and-shut case to me,’ he said, standing up. ‘Power gives way to sail, it’s as simple as that.’
Beth rose uncertainly to her feet.
‘Can I go, then?’ she asked. ‘Is it all over?’
A faint look of sardonic amusement crinkled the corners of Daniel Pryor’s eyes. ‘Were you afraid we were going to put you in gaol?’ he asked. ‘Yes, I’d say it’s all over. Wouldn’t you, Officer?’
‘Yes, I would,’ agreed the policeman. ‘Unless that other guy wants to take you to court, but in my opinion that would be a plain stupid thing for him to do.’
‘Do you know what’s happened to him?’ stammered Beth anxiously. ‘Warren Clark, I mean, the man who was driving the motor launch. My fiancé. Are you sure he wasn’t hurt?’
‘Well, ma’am,’ replied the policeman with a harassed expression, ‘the last I saw of him, he was on his way down to the hospital to get himself checked out, but it didn’t seem as if there was too much wrong with him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better be going. I have other work to do.’
As the door closed behind him, Beth sank shakily into a chair. Delayed shock was beginning to assault her and her thoughts whirled crazily. I hope Warren’s not hurt, she mused, but if he isn’t why hasn’t he come to find me? And where do I go from here?
‘Hospital,’ she echoed. ‘What on earth do I do now?’
A faint tremor shivered through her limbs and she had to fight down the urge to fling herself into Daniel’s arms and burst into tears. Oh, lord, she thought miserably. If he knew what I was thinking, I’d be so embarrassed, I’d curl up and die. Biting her lip, she darted Daniel a stricken glance and then lifted her head defiantly.
Daniel Pryor stood gazing at her for a moment out of brooding dark eyes, then the grim look around the corners of his mouth suddenly softened. Crossing the room, he laid his hand briefly on her shoulder. His touch seemed to scorch through the towelling bathrobe and Beth shifted uneasily, willing him not to notice the way her pulse-rate suddenly soared and her breathing grew fast and shallow. No doubt, with his aura of power and sensuality, women threw themselves at him all the time. But she had no desire to make a fool of herself. Chemistry, she thought cynically, that’s all it is. And she tried to draw away from his touch.
Her movement attracted his attention. Panic jolted through her as she met that smouldering gaze and then glanced hastily away. She felt her cheeks flushing hotly and yearned for him to say something to ease the strain. But for several moments he remained thoughtfully silent. And, when he did speak, his voice had a harsh edge to it.
‘Well, it’s not your fault that you’re engaged to an idiot,’ he growled. ‘And I can’t help taking pity on a bride. So cheer up, Miss Saxon. I’m sure we can get you both to the church on time.’
Beth stared at him with a baffled expression.
‘What are you talking about?’ she demanded. ‘What church?’
Daniel frowned, radiating a dose of antagonism that was as ominous and unmistakable as the massing of thunderclouds before a storm.
‘To the church where you’re getting married, of course,’ he replied curtly. ‘Which reminds me, you’d better give me some details. Where was the wedding supposed to be held and what time? Is there someone I should call to tell them you’ll be late?’
Light suddenly dawned inside Beth’s confused brain. She gave a half-hysterical gulp of laughter.
‘There isn’t any wedding,’ she explained. ‘We were just doing fashion photos and I was modelling the bridal dress. I’m not getting married today.’
The expression on his face baffled her. The thunderous scowl relaxed fractionally and was replaced by a look of fierce amusement.
‘No wedding?’ he drawled lazily. ‘Well, that is interesting. In that case, I guess there’s no real harm done, is there?’
A shadow crossed Beth’s face and she took in breath in a long, shaky sigh. Dismissing her tumultuous reactions to Daniel as too dangerous to contemplate, she tried to focus on the consequences of the morning’s events. Now that she knew Warren was safe, the other glaring result of the accident occurred to her.
‘Oh, yes, there is,’ she said miserably. ‘If that motor launch has really sunk to the bottom of the harbour, then my entire collection of autumn clothes has gone with it. All except for the bridal gown, and that’s probably ruined by the salt water.’
Daniel shrugged indifferently.
‘Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about that,’ he said. ‘Your insurance will cover the clothes. And you can easily buy some more right here in Santa Barbara.’
‘But you don’t understand,’ protested Beth passionately, her voice rising and growing faster. ‘I can’t just go out to a shop and replace those! They were originals. Clothes that I designed and made myself. Each of those is one of a kind and I’m supposed to be displaying them at a fashion show in Los Angeles in three days’ time. So now what am I going to do?’ She broke off suddenly and her eyes filled with tears. ‘It’s the end of everything I’ve worked for!’
Daniel’s harsh, brooding features took on an expression of total absorption, as if he were a chess master faced by a teasing problem or a champion skier embarking on a taxing downhill slalom.
‘Where are you staying in Santa Barbara?’ he rapped out.
Beth stared at him in bewilderment.
