name is West,’ she said tightly, aware of the tangy smell of his aftershave and a much more potent smell, a totally male aroma that attacked the senses. Or at least it would have done if she weren’t totally immune to all men. ‘Mrs West.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Your cousin didn’t tell me you were married.’
‘Just what did she tell you about me?’ she flashed, her mouth tightening.
‘Not a lot, I must admit. I didn’t see any husband with you when you arrived.’
‘I wasn’t aware you’d seen us arrive.’
‘I never miss out on a beautiful woman.’
’I hope you aren’t referring to me,’ she said stiffly.
‘Your cousin is lovely, but she doesn’t have your fragility, your wraithlike beauty. I noticed you as soon as you came in.’
She wondered how many other women he had told the same thing this evening. ‘Am I supposed to be flattered?’
‘Not particularly. You really meant it when you said you don’t like men.’ He sounded surprised.
‘Did you think I didn’t?’
‘Some women like to pretend they feel that way. For some reason they imagine it makes them more interesting to men.’
Her top lip curled back. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m the real thing.’
‘Except for your husband, of course.’
‘Sorry?’ she frowned.
‘You must like your husband.’
‘If you say so,’ she agreed tautly.
‘Is he here with you?’
‘No.’
‘In that case, would you like to leave?’
Helen was taken aback. ‘Are only single people and married couples allowed at your parties, Mr Masters?’
‘Hardly,’ he gave a husky laugh, his teeth firm and white against his tanned skin. ‘I wasn’t suggesting you leave alone, I was asking you to leave with me.’
Helen looked puzzled. ‘But this is your party.’
Leon shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I want to leave. I thought you wanted to come with me.’
‘You thought I—–! Why on earth should you think that?’ she demanded angrily, curious in spite of herself.
‘Didn’t you?’ he quirked one blond eyebrow, his superior height making her feel small and strangely fragile.
‘Certainly not!’ she told him crossly. ‘Whatever gave you that impression?’
‘You did.’
’I did?’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m sure you’re mistaken, Mr Masters. I have no wish to leave here or anywhere else with you.’
‘That isn’t what your eyes were saying a few minutes ago.’
Helen had to tilt her head right back to look at him. ‘Does every woman who so much as looks at you have to be attracted to you?’
He grinned down at her. ‘No. But I’m attracted to you, cool Helen.’
‘Don’t you mean “cold” Helen?’
‘Oh no,’ he said huskily, intimately. ‘Cool is a temperature only just off normal, I’d like to think you could become the latter.’
‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr Masters, but I think cold is a more suitable description.’
Leon frowned. ‘Has some man hurt you, is that it?’
Helen stiffened. ‘Men don’t get close enough to me to be allowed to cause pain. Now, if you’ll excuse me …’ she brushed past him.
His hand snaked out and caught her upper arm, his lazy indolence belied by the unexpected strength of his grip. He was in the peak of physical condition, another thing that surprised her about him. His tawny eyes were narrowed and assessing now. ‘How old are you?’ he queried softly.
Her violet eyes flashed her dislike. ‘My age is irrelevant to the way I feel.’
‘Twenty? Twenty-one?’ He ignored her outburst.
‘Twenty-two, actually,’ she snapped.
‘Such a great age,’ he mocked. ‘What happened, did he walk out on you?’
‘He?’ she said sharply, a nervous pulse in her throat.
His hand slid caressingly down her arm to catch her hand, turning it over to look at the narrow gold band on the third finger. ‘Your husband.’ He lifted her head, the startling tawny eyes all-seeing. ‘Did he leave you?’
Her breath caught in her throat at the directness of the question. ‘You could say that, Mr Masters,’ her mouth turned back. ‘He died.’
Leon frowned. ‘Your husband is dead?’ He didn’t sound as if he believed her.
‘I would hardly lie about something like that,’ she answered waspishly, shaking off his hold on her. She brushed past him and this time he made no effort to stop her.
She had to get out of here, had to leave. Talking about Michael had brought back memories she would rather forget, memories that could prove too painful for her peace of mind. She left the apartment and the building in a daze, just wanting to get away from taunting tawny eyes and a cruel mocking mouth.
Leon Masters had no right to intrude on her private hurt, no right to pierce the armour she had wrapped about herself. It was months since anyone had questioned her about Michael, mainly because of Jenny interceding on her behalf. She obviously hadn’t thought it necessary where Leon Masters was concerned, which wasn’t surprising. Who would have thought he would even speak to her, let alone get so personal?
Unless of course Jenny had just decided it was time she stopped protecting her as far as Michael was concerned. After all, it was two years since it had happened, two years in which the pain should have lessened. And yet it hadn’t! If only she had been able to cry about it she might have been able to snap out of this numbness, but tears had eluded her, leaving her with her bitterness.
She shivered as she felt a velvet jacket slipped about her shoulders, a familiar smell of tangy aftershave drifting up from the soft grey material. Gentle hands moved her hair from its confinement in the jacket collar, and she looked up to meet searching tawny eyes.
‘I didn’t think you were lying, Helen,’ Leon told her softly, pulling the lapels of the jacket more firmly about her. ‘You’re just very young to have been married and widowed.’
‘I was twenty when he died,’ she said in a stilted voice.
Leon
