found the paperback novel she’d brought to read in bed, and curled up with it on the window seat, trying to relax. It was going to be a glorious sunset, she thought, promising more fine weather tomorrow. She might go out somewhere—to Kew, perhaps, or on the river.
She returned her attention to the book, but found it difficult to focus. She felt too edgy—too restless to give it the concentration it deserved.
She got up and walked round the room, eyeing the telephone and wondering if Reception would have the wit to tell her once the computer was working again.
She kicked off her shoes and lay across the bed on her stomach, her chin propped on one hand while she flicked the remote control through the TV channels with the other. But there was little to engage the attention there either, so it was almost a relief when a tap on the door announced the belated arrival of her coffee and sandwiches.
She called ‘Come in,’ and as the door opened added, ‘Put the tray on the table by the window, please.’
Liam said, ‘I cancelled the food order. I was afraid you’d spoil your appetite for dinner.’
Cat heard herself yelp. The remote control skittered out of her hand to the floor as she flung herself upright, her eyes blazing.
She said, breathlessly, ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘I just told you.’ He sounded mildly surprised. ‘I came to explain about the food.’
‘Damn the food,’ she said tautly. ‘You’re the gardener, for God’s sake. So who gives you the licence to roam into guest bedrooms with any kind of message?’
He propped himself against the dressing table. ‘I don’t confine myself to the great outdoors.’ He had the gall to sound faintly amused. ‘My talents are many and varied.’
Even though she was furiously angry, it occurred to her, as she stared haughtily back at him, that if he hadn’t spoken she might not have recognised him. The scruffy jeans and shirt, she saw with growing amazement, had gone, and been replaced by a pair of elegantly cut charcoal pants. His crisp white shirt, open at the neck and with the cuffs turned back over his forearms, accentuated his tan.
The dark hair was neatly combed, and he’d clearly shaved. She could breathe the tang of some expensive citrus cologne in the air.
He’d gone from extremely attractive to seriously glamorous in one stride, she thought, swallowing.
She, on the other hand, was desperately at a disadvantage, barefoot, flushed and dishevelled, kneeling in the centre of a large bed.
All this, she thought, is really bad news.
He sent her a mocking grin, as if he’d guessed the tenor of her thoughts. ‘Do you still want to wait until eight o clock?’ he queried softly. ‘Or are you hungry now?’
She took a deep breath. ‘Look,’ she began, ‘it was kind of you to offer me a meal, but I really have to get back to London tonight. I’m just waiting for the computer to produce my bill.’
‘Well, it’s not ready yet,’ he said. ‘So you may as well eat—with me.’
‘I think,’ Cat said, keeping her voice steady, ‘that you’re going to have to learn to take no for an answer. Starting now. So, will you please leave my room?’
He settled himself more comfortably against the dressing table, making her disquietingly aware of the lean strength of his body. And that he had the air of a man prepared to wait, as well.
‘Tell me something,’ he invited. ‘What are you so afraid of?’
‘Oh, that’s an old ploy,’ Cat said scornfully. ‘I’d have expected better of you.’
Liam shook his head. ‘It’s a positive request for information. You had a room booked for the night, yet you were so keen to run out on me that you asked the receptionist to lie for you. Why?’
‘I had second thoughts,’ she said curtly. ‘And I considered you might be troublesome about them.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I certainly got that right, didn’t I?’
‘What in hell,’ he said slowly, ‘do you imagine I’m going to do to you?’
‘Now you’re being ridiculous,’ Cat said, ignoring the fact that the imagination in question was currently running riot. Her stomach was churning in turmoil and her mouth was dry.
He said, ‘You seem—uneasy, that’s all. A trifle—on edge.’
‘Nonsense,’ she said, too quickly. ‘As I said, I have—stuff waiting for me in London. I decided I should make a start on it—that’s all.’
‘Even if it meant breaking a promise?’ His eyes met hers. Held them.
‘It wasn’t a firm arrangement.’ Cat bit her lip, aware that her breathing had quickened. ‘I—I didn’t think you could be serious—or that you’d believe that I was.’
He nodded thoughtfully. ‘Because I’m merely part of the hired help and you’re a lady from London with appointments to keep and deals to be made?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Because you’re a complete stranger, and it didn’t seem—appropriate.’
‘Yet that’s how things begin,’ he said. ‘With strangers meeting. And, according to statistics, a lot of those strangers actually meet at weddings too.’
‘We didn’t exactly do that—if you remember.’
‘I have total recall,’ he said. ‘Of every detail. You’re The Cat That Walks By Herself, and all places are alike to you. Isn’t that how it goes?’
Her brows lifted. ‘Bravo.’
‘But if that’s really the case,’ he went on, as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘there’s nothing to prevent you being with me for a while. Going my way for a change.’ He smiled at her. ‘After all, what have you got to lose?’
More, she thought, than I even want to contemplate …
She said tautly, ‘Are you always this persistent?’
‘Are you always this elusive?’
‘It doesn’t occur to you that I might—just prefer my own company?’
‘How can you know,’ he said, ‘until you’ve tried mine?’ He gave her a considering look. ‘Of course, if you’re too ashamed to be seen with me in the restaurant, we could always dine up here.’
‘No!’ The denial seemed to burst out of her.
He grinned at her. ‘No to the shame, or no to being alone with me?’
She lifted her chin. ‘Both.’
‘What’s the matter, Cat?’ His voice was soft—goading. ‘Discovered some hot bricks? You’ll feel better when you’ve eaten.’
She
