hardly. ‘And whether you like it or not you are part of that family.’
Laurel stiffened. ‘I don’t have a family,’ she dismissed harshly. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me,’ she frowned worriedly as Polly began to look very harassed as she continued to take money at the till, ‘I really do have to get back to work.’
Reece grasped her arm as she would have walked away from him without a second glance. ‘And I really have to talk to you,’ he bit out. ‘I’ll come back once you’re closed this evening.’
It was a statement, not a request, and with a disinterested shrug Laurel walked away to take over from Polly. By the time she had the chance to glance up again Reece had gone.
Why had he come? She could easily have found that out if she had given him a few minutes of her time. But she hadn’t felt inclined to do that. Reece was a man who told people to ‘jump’ and didn’t even take the time to see if they did so; he knew that they would! But this was her shop, her living, and she didn’t ‘jump’ for anyone.
‘See you later tonight,’ Polly came into the office to say good night once the shop had closed for the day, Laurel sitting at her desk doing the books, the other woman lingering in the doorway.
And Laurel knew why she was lingering. The younger woman had been giving her curious looks all afternoon, obviously waiting for an explanation about Reece’s claim of being her brother. Laurel hadn’t given her one, and she didn’t give her one now either.
‘Fine,’ she gave a bright smile. ‘About eight.’
‘Yes,’ Polly confirmed absently. ‘Er——’
‘I’d better get finished here if I want to be ready on time,’ Laurel cut in firmly. ‘I have to go home and take a shower before I get ready for the party.’
Polly nodded, her disappointment showing in her deep brown eyes. ‘See you later, then.’
Laurel was vaguely aware of the bell on the door ringing as the other woman let herself out, a smile curving her lips as she thought of the dress she was going to wear that evening. It’s royal-blue colour deepened her eyes, made her short blonde hair look like gold, the straightness of the gown’s style emphasising her small uptilted breasts, narrow waist and hips. At only five feet in height she had always considered her figure too slender to be really alluring, but the silky dress showed what curves she did have to advantage. There wasn’t a lot she could do to enhance her gamin features, her face dominated by big blue eyes, her nose short and slightly snub, her mouth curving, her chin small and pointed. But the dress definitely made her look sexy. Giles was going to love it!
‘Very seasonal.’
She turned sharply to the door at the sound of that mocking drawl, frowning at Reece as he leant against the door-frame. ‘How did you get in?’ she snapped.
He shrugged, strolling into the room. ‘Your assistant let me in on her way out.’
Laurel bristled resentfully, as she always did around this man. ‘I’m glad you approve of the decorations we have up in the shop,’ she answered his opening comment.
He picked up a book on French artists from her desk and began to flick through it. ‘I wasn’t referring to the decorations, I was talking about the way you were smiling gleefully as you counted the money you had made today.’ He paused at one of the pages in the book. ‘I prefer my women a little slimmer than this, but she certainly is a sexy lady.’
Laurel snatched the book out of his hands, looking down at the page he had lingered over; the black-eyed gypsy-looking woman stood naked in front of a mirror, her well-endowed body fully upstanding. ‘This has been put by for a customer,’ she explained its presence on her desk, closing the book with a firm snap.
‘Your Scrooge act is getting even more realistic,’ Reece mocked as he sat on the side of her desk, still wearing the dark business suit of this afternoon.
‘You have nothing to worry about,’ Laurel scorned. ‘You aren’t in the least like kind, affable Bob Cratchit. And I was smiling just now because I was thinking about my party tonight, not the money I’ve taken today.’
‘Ah yes, the party,’ Reece sobered. ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.’
Laurel stiffened warily. ‘You weren’t invited.’
‘No,’ he acknowledged raspingly. ‘But Amanda and my father were. Eventually.’
Her head went back challengingly at the rebuke she sensed in his words. ‘Yes?’
‘To your engagement party.’ His eyes were narrowed. ‘To a man they haven’t even met.’
‘I’m over the age of consent,’ she snapped.
‘Well over,’ he agreed harshly. ‘But all the same, I would have thought courtesy would have meant you gave your own mother a little more notice of your engagement than this morning!’
She became flushed at the condemnation, still smarting because he had implied that she was old at only twenty-six! ‘I sent the invitation four days ago,’ she bit out. ‘I can’t be held responsible for the Christmas post delaying its arrival.’
‘Four days,’ Reece repeated icily. ‘And how long have you been planning the party?’
‘A couple of months. But——’
‘And when did the other invitations go out?’ he persisted harshly.
‘Six weeks ago. But, Reece, I don’t think any of this is——’
‘And when did Gilbraith’s family receive their invitations?’
‘They didn’t,’ she was able to tell him with satisfaction. ‘All of Giles’s family live in Scotland, and will be coming down for the wedding next summer. Which was the reason Giles and I decided to invite only friends to our engagement party. But then——’
‘Then you were belatedly attacked by feelings of guilt,’ Reece said with disgust. ‘And at the last minute decided to invite your mother after all.’
‘I didn’t feel in the least guilty,’ Laurel denied heatedly. ‘It must be obvious by now that my mother and I lead our own, completely different, lives. Giles and I just decided it might look a little odd if my mother weren’t there when everyone knows she lives in London, too.’
‘God, I’m glad Amanda doesn’t realise she was only invited so that you and your fiancé shouldn’t be asked any embarrassing questions!’ Anger made his eyes gleam more golden than brown. ‘She’s really excited about the invitation, thinks that the rift that has grown between the two of you is finally to be mended.’
He was even more handsome than usual when blazingly angry, his eyes like molten gold, his harsh features taking on the sharpness of a hawk; a long straight nose, high cheekbones, a firm mouth, and a square determined chin. But his anger didn’t only show in his face, his six foot plus frame was tense with anger too, the muscles in his chest and arms rigid. And with his dark, almost black, short-styled hair he looked as fierce as the devil himself.
But he didn’t frighten Laurel; very little did any more. ‘The relationship between
