a little—startled, by the change in your appearance—even more so by the reason for the subterfuge in the first place.’ He looked darkly at the road ahead. ‘Talk if you want to,’ he commanded.
Kit continued to watch him for several long seconds, finding that, now he had invited her to talk, she actually had nothing to say!
‘Well?’ he persisted tersely at her continued silence.
She gave a rueful laugh. ‘Isn’t it strange, that when someone invites you to talk, there’s really nothing to talk about? But if I think of anything, I’ll certainly say it,’ she amended hastily at the frown line remaining between his eyes.
Marcus gave a small smile. ‘I’m gratified to hear it!’
‘No, you aren’t,’ she said with certainty. ‘And I’m really quite happy just looking out of the window,’ she assured him. ‘It’s easy to forget, living in London, just how beautiful England really is.’
‘Yes,’ he answered shortly. ‘Tell me a little about yourself, Miss McGuire,’ he invited. ‘I ought to know something about the woman I’m spending the weekend with, don’t you think?’
‘I suppose,’ she acknowledged reluctantly, not sure how much she wanted this man to know about her. Always a private person, she now found it more important than ever to keep personal information to a minimum—considering this man’s connections…
‘You suppose?’ he echoed slightly incredulously. ‘Miss McGuire, I’m not asking for intimate details; just a general outline will do! Things like parents and siblings; after all, your résumé has already told me about your previous employment, educational qualifications and marital status!’
‘Oh, good,’ she said sarcastically. ‘Well, I have two parents: a mother and a father—’
‘I’m glad to hear it!’ he drawled with derisive patience, ‘why is it I get the feeling you really don’t want to talk about your private life?’
‘Probably because I don’t,’ she answered candidly. ‘But I’m quite happy for you to tell me about yours, if you feel so inclined?’ She looked at him expectantly.
He flicked her another glance with those deep blue eyes. ‘You know, I think you might be a lot less trouble as the supremely efficient Miss McGuire; she tends not to answer back!’
Kit grinned self-consciously. ‘Sorry.’
‘No, you’re not. And, for the record, I have a mother and a father, too,’ he continued wryly.
‘Well, at least we have that much in common, Mr Maitland—’
‘Marcus,’ he insisted. ‘I think that might sound a little less—formal, for the benefit of this weekend, don’t you?’ He raised mocking brows.
She hesitated for a moment. ‘You know, I really don’t think you thought the consequences of this weekend through enough before deciding on your plan of action—’
‘You don’t?’ His brows rose higher.
‘No, I don’t.’ Kit turned fully in her seat to look at him. ‘For one thing,’ she continued determinedly as he would have interrupted, ‘how are we supposed to go back to being Mr Maitland and Miss McGuire when we return to the office on Monday morning? And for another—’
‘Tuesday morning,’ Marcus corrected. ‘We aren’t leaving until Monday afternoon,’ he explained as she looked at him enquiringly.
So now, attracted to him as she was, she had three torturous days in his company instead of two!
Great!
‘But you’re right about the Miss McGuire bit,’ Marcus continued thoughtfully. ‘Looking at you now, I’m not sure I will ever be able to think of you in that guise ever again!’
Hadn’t she tried to tell him that—?
‘Or for you to return to that coolly efficient role, either,’ he said pointedly.
Kit winced as she inwardly acknowledged that her change in appearance had also resulted in certain subtle—and some not so subtle!—differences in her personality. Dressed in her casual clothes, her hair loose, and no heavy-framed glasses, she certainly felt, and behaved, differently from the coolly capable Miss McGuire!
‘All in all—Kit,’ he paused briefly before deliberately using her first name, ‘I have a feeling that being away on business with you is going to be altogether a completely different experience to going away with Lewis!’
That was what she was afraid of!
Marcus glanced at her, chuckling huskily as he saw the woebegone expression on her face. ‘Cheer up, Kit,’ he encouraged. ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’
Attracted to him as she was, feeling about him the way that she did, she would rather not think about that, either!
‘After all,’ Marcus went on lightly, completely relaxed now as he drove effortlessly along the country roads, ‘you’re going to be chaperoned by several other guests. And don’t forget, my taste runs to dumb blondes.’
She gave a pained groan. ‘I wish that I had never made that remark!’
Marcus was grinning, obviously enjoying her discomfort now. ‘Well, it’s a sure fact you aren’t blonde.’ He gave her hair an admiring glance. ‘And I can personally vouch for the fact that you aren’t dumb, either!’
She gave a heavy sigh. ‘Mr Maitland—’
‘Marcus,’ he reminded her firmly. ‘Is Kit short for something else?’ he mused. ‘Kitty or Kathryn, something like that?’
‘It’s short for Kit,’ she told him woodenly. ‘Plain and simple Kit.’
‘Okay.’ He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘You were going to say something before we got into this discussion about names…?’
‘Before you got into the discussion about names,’ she corrected flatly. ‘And I was just going to apologize—’ once again! ‘—for my remarks about your personal life. They were rude, and intrusive, and altogether—’
‘True,’ he finished happily. ‘But I’m sure it isn’t too late for my tastes to change—to tall, outspoken redheads, for instance.’
Kit was almost afraid to look at him now, sure he was just teasing her to get his own back for her earlier remarks—but at the same time she wasn’t sure of any such thing!
It was difficult to tell what he was thinking from the blandness of his expression. Deliberately so? Probably, she acknowledged heavily. One thing she had learnt over the last couple of days: Marcus had a wicked sense of humour when he chose to exert it.
‘Very funny,’ she scorned, choosing to err on the side of caution. ‘Do you have any idea who any of the other guests will be this weekend?’ She deliberately changed the subject onto something less personal. And disturbing!
‘The usual hangers-on and social bores a man like Desmond
