her dry lips and swallowed to relieve the nervous occlusion tightening her throat. ‘Tell her he’s fine.’ Oh, God, please let this be over soon.
Her hazel eyes flickered to her wrist-watch. Ten minutes to lunch time, one of the busiest times of the day in the nursery. She shifted her weight restively from one leg to the other and repressed a sigh as she lifted her head.
She flushed lightly as Roman O’Hagan angled his sable brows expressively.
‘Sorry, I should be somewhere else,’ she explained, trying hard to make it sound as if this were something she was sorry about.
‘Am I boring you?’ Women didn’t make a habit of looking at their watches when they were in his company. ‘Or should I have made an appointment?’
The sardonic note in his rich velvet voice brought the colour rushing back to her cheeks.
‘Well, if I’d had a little warning I could have told you that today isn’t very convenient,’ Scarlet agreed bluntly. ‘I realise,’ she added, ‘that my time isn’t as valuable as yours…’ It was the total shock she saw momentarily flicker in his eyes that halted the flow of indiscreet observations.
What’s wrong with me? I told David I’d be nice to him. It’s not like it requires any great skill, just an ability to keep my mouth shut. Getting herself out of this one was going to require some quick thinking, or talking at least.
‘Which, of course, it isn’t. I’m sure an hour of your time would cost me loads, whereas I only get paid…but I don’t suppose you get paid by the hour. And I don’t want an hour of it or even five minutes, though it’s obviously been an enormous thrill to meet you.’ Was that obsequious enough? She lifted a weary hand to her head. Oh, God…! Do I sound as much of a blithering idiot as I feel?
‘I’m delighted you’re thrilled.’
I might die of humiliation, she decided, listening to the amusement in his deep voice.
‘And I’m sorry if this is inconvenient,’ he continued, ‘but the vice-chancellor said there would be no problem.’
‘Well, he would, wouldn’t he? You’re influential and rich and…’ Her scornful observation faded as their glances meshed once again. ‘That is, you’re…sorry.’ She managed to force her lips into a stiff smile. ‘That was rude.’
‘Yes, it was.’ It was hard to tell from his languid agreement if he was annoyed or amused.
David will kill me. She exhaled noisily and ran her hands, palm-flat, over her face in a brisk scrubbing motion.
‘I get the impression you’re having a bad day?’
‘What makes you say that?’ she asked gloomily.
A laugh was drawn from his beautifully tanned throat. Scarlet lifted her face, startled by the deeply attractive sound. He smiled at her, his teeth flashing very white in his dark face. She blinked—for a moment he had reminded her of Sam; the fleeting similarity made her almost feel disposed to think he might not be quite the monster she had imagined.
‘Well, if you carry on like this on a regular basis I can’t imagine they’d carry on paying you that enormous salary you spoke of.’
She let her hands fall away and shook her head. ‘I earn every penny I make. Especially today.’
‘What’s happened to make this a bad day?’
‘You…well, not just you,’ she added with a self-condemnatory grimace. ‘And I don’t mean you personally, it’s just I didn’t like leaving the staff to struggle. I’ve been putting in lots of extra hours this week to cover for sickness.’
‘And what happens if you get sick?’
‘Oh, I never get sick.’
Her solemn conviction struck him as funny. She must have picked up on his amusement because she added defensively. ‘I can’t remember the last time I was ill.’
‘Aren’t you afraid of tempting fate?’
Scarlet suspected he was making fun of her. ‘I’m not superstitious,’ she told him her expression contemptuous.
‘You’ve never pinched spilt salt over your shoulder, or counted magpies in a field, or crossed your fingers for luck?’
She shook her head. ‘Of course not. Don’t you believe me?’
‘I think everyone’s superstitious deep down; it’s human nature.’
This point of view amazed her. ‘You’re superstitious?’ she asked incredulously.
‘My father’s Irish, my mother’s Italian—the odds were stacked.’ His broad shoulders lifted. ‘What choice do I have?’
‘Well, I’m not superstitious, but I am really glad that your mother is better.’
‘But you’ve somewhere else you need to be,’ he completed smoothly.
It would be overstating it to call the glint in his eyes annoyance, but…! She probably was making the fact she couldn’t stick being in his company a bit obvious.
‘That’s very understanding of you, Mr O’Hagan.’
‘Perhaps we could continue our discussion over lunch?’
Scarlet heard his voice through a faint buzz in her ears as she tried to contemplate what he’d just said.
‘Lunch…?’ she parroted vaguely.
Best to look on this as a reflex—her hormones had gone into primitive autopilot mode and were acting independently of her brain. Hence the weakness in her legs, the warm heat thrumming through her body and the painful spasms knotting her stomach. He was an attractive man, end of story, no need to complicate it further.
‘Bring your son, by all means.’
‘Discussion?’ There seemed to be a time delay in her ability to translate what he was saying. ‘We weren’t having a discussion.’ Her straight brows arranged themselves in an interrogative line. ‘Lunch!’
There’s no such thing as a free lunch!
‘Good God, no!’
His eyes widened fractionally, but other than that nothing in his manner revealed his reaction to her response. It wasn’t that he was conceited, but a lifetime of being pursued and flattered by women had left Roman ill prepared to have an invitation of lunch rejected in an attitude of blatant revulsion.
‘Well, I know where to come if I need my ego deflated.’
Belatedly Scarlet recalled her promise to David. She tried to soften her blunt reply.
‘That is…it’s very kind of you to offer,’ she added, even though every instinct told her this was not a man predisposed to be kind.
She
