to a professional barber,’ Robyn advised impatiently. ‘I have to get home now, it’s starting to get dark.’
Rick Howarth stood up, looking infinitely more relaxed than when she had first arrived. ‘I’ll drive you,’ he offered.
‘There’s no need. It isn’t far,’ she babbled. ‘I can quite easily walk.’
‘I said I’ll drive you. I wouldn’t like you to get attacked on the way.’
‘In Sanford?’ she derided.
‘Anywhere,’ he said seriously. ‘There are woods on the way back to your home, you could be dragged in there and no one would be any the wiser.’
‘Thanks!’ her mouth twisted derisively. ‘If I felt all right about it before I certainly don’t now!’
He opened the door for her. ‘Okay, let’s go.’ He moved to unlock the car door.
‘Shouldn’t you lock up the house?’ she asked once they were seated in the car.
He eyes her with some amusement. ‘There’s nothing in there for anyone to take.’ He manoeuvred the car out of the driveway into the road.
Robyn frowned. ‘Why don’t you have any furniture?’
His mouth tightened. ‘How do you know I don’t?’ he asked suspiciously.
She swallowed hard, realising her mistake too late. ‘I—er—I—–’
‘So you went prying around my home,’ he said harshly, his face rigid with anger. ‘I should have known, I suppose. All women are the same, aren’t they, you just can’t leave a man’s privacy alone.’
Robyn gasped at his accusations. ‘I only looked—–’
‘Because you were damned nosey,’ he rasped.
‘No—–’
‘Yes!’ His teeth snapped together angrily.
‘Please, Mr Howarth—–’
He drew the car to a halt. ‘This is your home, isn’t it?’ he said coldly, staring straight ahead of him.
She looked about them in a daze the short drive to her home seemed to have taken no time at all. ‘I—Yes. But—–’
‘Goodnight, Miss Castle. Thank your mother for me.’
‘I—Yes, yes I will.’ She scrambled out of the car. ‘I just wish you would let me explain.’
‘There’s nothing to explain.’ He accelerated the Jaguar forward with a screech of the tyres, the passenger door slamming closed with the force of the speed.
Whew! What a volatile man—one minute almost human, the next back to the cold hard stranger she had first encountered. Admittedly she had no right to be walking around his home, but if she hadn’t been worried as to his whereabouts she wouldn’t have done such a thing.
‘You’ve been gone a long time, dear.’ Her mother looked up from her knitting as Robyn entered the lounge. ‘Have you been round to Kay’s?’
How she would have liked to have used her friend as an excuse, to have avoided all the curious questions that were bound to be asked once her family learnt she had been with Rick Howarth for the last hour and a half. But she couldn’t deliberately lie.
She sat down in one of the armchairs. ‘Mr Howarth wasn’t feeling too well—–’
‘Oh dear,’ her mother frowned. ‘He isn’t ill, is he?’
‘No, it was just lack of food.’
‘Did he eat what I sent him?’
‘Yes, that’s why I was so long. I—I wanted to make sure he ate it.’
‘Very wise,’ her mother nodded thoughtfully. ‘I don’t like to see a man starve himself for any. reason.’
Somehow Robyn didn’t think Rick Howarth was in the habit of going without his food. But she didn’t think he was in the habit of getting it himself either! He had been totally lost in the kitchen, and she would swear that he hadn’t used the cooker once in the three weeks he had been in residence. He was obviously used to someone getting his food for him, which pointed to him having a woman somewhere in the background of his life. Or he had would be more appropriate, because he was very much alone now. Maybe his marriage had broken up—a man of his age was sure to be married, which would account for his bitterness towards women.
‘Well, at least he has a hot meal inside him now,’ she told her mother. ‘He said to thank you, and that you’re a very good cook.’
Her mother flushed her pleasure. It wasn’t often she received compliments on her cooking; her family all took such a luxury for granted, although they soon complained if there was anything wrong with it.
‘I think he should get himself a housekeeper,’ her mother said absently.
Robyn didn’t tell her that Rick Howarth had half-heartedly offered her such a position. ‘There isn’t anything to “keep” in that house.’ She bit her lip, realising she was being indiscreet. Rick Howarth certainly wouldn’t thank her for discussing him in this way.
Her father peered over the top of his newspaper. ‘What do you mean by that?’ he asked in a puzzled voice.
She shrugged. ‘He doesn’t have a lot of furniture, that’s all. But as he’s alone I don’t suppose he needs it.’ She stood up. ‘I think I’ll go and wash my hair.’ She hurriedly left the room, reluctant to talk about Rick Howarth any more.
Unfortunately everyone else seemed to want to know about him. ‘Did you see your boy-friend last night?’ Selma wanted to know the next day.
Robyn gave an inward groan, wishing she had never mentioned Rick Howarth to the other girl. ‘He isn’t my boy-friend,’ she told Selma irritably.
‘But you said he was.’
‘Well, he—he’s just a friend. And he happens to be male. That’s really all there is to it.’
Selma shrugged. ‘It’s okay by me if you don’t want to talk about him.’
‘I didn’t say that,’ Robyn sighed. ‘There’s just nothing to tell.’
‘Like I said, if you don’t want to talk about him—–’
‘There’s really nothing to tell,’ Robyn repeated sharply.
Selma gave her a knowing glance. ‘Had an argument, did you?’
‘No!’ she flashed, then realised that here was a way out of this. ‘Yes,’ she deliberately contradicted herself. ‘We did, actually.’
‘I shouldn’t worry about it,’ Selma shrugged. ‘If he’s really interested he’ll be back.’
Considering
