Uh-oh. She was getting as bad as him.
But at least he was looking suitably scorched when she eased back.
‘Definitely not going to keep my hands off you during dinner,’ Scott said fervently.
Kate laughed. ‘Not that I believe for a moment that a phone call to the first name in your little black book wouldn’t have snagged you a date.’
‘Not wishing to sound like an egomaniac, but that is true. The fidelity clause, however, is a killer,’ he said. ‘How ungallant it would have been, beating off my lascivious companion at the end of the night.’
‘You’re not telling me your dates always end in sex?’
‘Aren’t I?’
Kate dutifully laughed—but the idea of him even thinking about sex with another woman was somehow unsettling. And the fact that it unsettled her was…well, that was unsettling too.
‘You’re the one who got fussy about that fidelity clause,’ she reminded him, aiming for a nonchalance she just couldn’t make herself feel. ‘If it’s a hardship to give up all those women out there panting for you, you only have to say the word.’
‘I’m not risking you ditching me that fast.’
‘Who says I’d ditch you? Maybe I wouldn’t care.’
He shot her a curious look. ‘You honest-to-God wouldn’t have minded if I’d done the deed elsewhere tonight?’
‘We’ll never know, will we?’
‘Yeah—not buying it,’ he said. ‘You wouldn’t have liked it. And—just to remind you—I definitely would mind, so no going there for you.’ Quick, cheeky grin at her. ‘Not that you need to.’
‘Oh, the confidence of youth.’
Another grin. ‘Not youth—skill, Katie. And, for the record, it’s not that I couldn’t have resisted Anais—she’s the first A in my black book, by the way—because I could have. It’s that I didn’t want to hurt her feelings with a knockback she wouldn’t have been expecting. So, you see, you had to come to spare the poor girl’s feelings.’
‘Oh, so this is all about me doing Anais a favour!’
‘Well, you can’t deny you’ve got a soft spot for the oppressed.’
‘Has Willa been talking about my imminent canonisation again?’
‘Nope. I just know, Saint Kate. When you were on the phone two nights ago I sensed weeping aplenty and a fair amount of teeth-gnashing at the other end of the line—and I heard how you dealt with it.’ Scott reached for her hand, brought it to his mouth, kissed it. ‘All class.’
Kate, uncharacteristically flustered, had to swallow twice before she could force herself back into banter mode and once more to actually find her voice.
‘And poor Anais is oppressed how, exactly?’ she asked—and was relieved the question had come out light and amused.
‘All right, you got me,’ Scott said, rueful. ‘Anais is not oppressed. In fact, she tried to oppress me!’
‘You? Oppressed? Puh-lease.’
‘She did! Bondage and discipline. Ouch. Evil. I cried like a baby.’
Kate couldn’t help it. She laughed. ‘So that’s what I have to do to keep you in line, is it?’
‘No. I told you—I’m not into all that. All you have to do to keep me in line, Katie, is redirect your soft spot where it’s needed.’
‘And where would that be?’
‘Well, to me, obviously. Haven’t you been listening? I’m oppressed.’
‘You need a little more oppression,’ Kate said dryly, and when he laughed, sounding boyish and completely irresistible, she found herself wanting to kiss him again.
She decided a subject-change was required for her own sanity.
‘So, what are the chances of Silverston taking the prize tonight?’ she asked.
Scott waited a moment. ‘Did you look it up?’
‘Well, yes, of course. What kind of slave would I be if I didn’t know what award my master was up for? Creative Residential. Five finalists.’
‘I’m not expecting to win.’ He sounded offhand—but his hands had tightened on the steering wheel.
‘Why not?’ she asked.
A shrug, but no answer. Just one of those smiles that she thought he must have stacked up like a jukebox—pick one and play it.
‘I hope the food is good, because I’m starving,’ he said. ‘What’s the bet it’ll be smoked salmon out of a packet, followed by overdone steak with three vegetables on the side, then chocolate mousse?’
Which, of course, was not an answer. And it seemed she wasn’t going to get one, because Scott kept the conversation flowing around a host of boy subjects—which Kate suspected had been deliberately chosen—for the rest of the drive.
Sports results—please, kill her—action movies, gory television shows.
By the time they arrived at the five-star hotel where the event was being held, Scott had a new jukebox smile pasted on—a smile that said I’m here! No big deal!
But it became obvious very quickly to Kate that his arrival was, in fact, a very big deal—to everyone except him. As pre-event cocktails were served outside the ballroom people made their way to Scott in a steady stream, drawn as though by a magnet. But although Scott smiled, chatted, shook hands, kissed a score of female cheeks, he held everyone at bay…and they didn’t even realise he was doing it. He was effortlessly, carelessly charismatic, and people clearly wanted to be in his orbit, but he was essentially untouchable.
What the hell…?
Kate remembered what he’d said that day in her office. I don’t get hurt. She was starting to believe it was true. To get hurt you had to be close to someone. And dial-a-smile Scott wasn’t close. To anyone. The question was: why not?
‘Bored?’ Scott asked her, leaning in close.
‘No. Why?’
‘You were staring off into space.’
‘Oh, just…thinking. But not bored.’
‘Well, I’m bored. Slave or not, I’m going to have to think up a way to reward you for sacrificing your night to this tedium.’
‘Just win the prize,’ she said.
Instantly his eyes shuttered. ‘Hmmm.’
That was all he said. Hmmm.
