but since Carter had appeared on the scene wild horses wouldn’t have kept her in the nightclub.
She opened the door of the cloakroom, stepping out into the thickly carpeted foyer and then nearly jumping out of her skin as a hand closed over her wrist.
‘I’m sorry,’ Carter said at the side of her. ‘Did I startle you?’
‘Of course you startled me,’ she said crisply, pulling her arm away and refusing to be intimidated by the height and breadth of him. She also refused to reflect on the fact that, attractive and compelling as he had been earlier that afternoon, he was doubly so in the white tuxedo which sat on the big body with designer ease. ‘I’m not used to people creeping up behind me.’ She frowned at him to make sure he knew she was serious.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever crept in my life,’ he answered with a silky amusement which immediately caught her on the raw.
‘Really.’ She surveyed him through unfriendly brown eyes. ‘Look, if you’re hoping I’ve got my details on me, forget it. This bag holds a lipstick and comb and little else.’
He didn’t spare the silk purse a glance. Instead he continued to observe her with a scrutiny which was unnerving before he said, ‘The accident was your fault, not mine. We’ve already established that. That being the case, why are you so hostile, Miss Fox?’
Liberty stiffened. ‘I don’t know what you are talking about. I am most certainly not hostile.’
‘No?’ The dark face was overtly mocking.
‘No.’ It was a sharp snap.
She glared at him, and then was further annoyed and taken aback when he laughed softly, his firm mouth curving to reveal even white teeth. ‘I blame the hair.’
‘What?’ He had completely lost her and it showed.
‘Red always makes for fireworks,’ he drawled easily.
Always? Always? He was comparing her to other women he had known, probably even bedded? She drew herself up to her full five feet eight inches, which unfortunately wasn’t as commanding as it would have been with a man of lesser height, and said coldly, ‘What is it that you want, Mr Blake?’
The black eyebrows rose a fraction. ‘What is it you are offering, Miss Fox?’
Irritating man! ‘You know what I mean,’ she said primly.
‘I’m not sure I do,’ he murmured, studying her angry face with hidden fascination. He had been right about the hair—it was glorious. Rich and glowing with a sheen on it like pure silk. And the way it framed her face, bringing out the porcelain quality to that perfect skin and the darkness of her eyes. How could he have thought for a moment she was in any way ordinary?
‘You were obviously waiting here for me. Why?’
‘You don’t think it possible I was passing through to the men’s cloakroom and noticed you?’ he asked blandly, indicating a door at the far end of the foyer.
She stared at him, suddenly feeling a complete idiot. Again. Something she was getting used to when she was round this man. Why on earth would he be waiting for her when he was with Carmen Lapotiaze? She must have been mad to think it for a second and even crazier to say so. She took a deep breath and prayed her face wasn’t as fiery as it felt. Then she didn’t know what to say.
Carter decided to put her out of her misery. ‘Actually, you were right; I was waiting for you.’ He watched her eyes narrow ominously and added hastily, ‘I’ve checked my car and the damage is minimal. If you let me buy you dinner some time we’ll forget about insurance companies. And I have a guy who can fix your car for next to nothing, incidentally.’
‘I don’t understand.’ And then the frown of confusion cleared. Dinner. He’d suggested dinner but it would probably be spelt bed if he was like most of his kind. As her face scorched again, she said icily, ‘I think I would prefer to let this go through the right channels, Mr Blake.’
‘Why?’ he asked in a tone which suggested mild interest.
Well, as he’d asked…‘Because I wouldn’t have dinner with you if you were the last man on earth. This might sound like an old cliché, but I’m not that sort of girl. I suggest you get back to your dinner companions, Mr Blake.’
Just a flicker of something she couldn’t quite read crossed his face before his features cleared of all expression. ‘I said dinner and I meant dinner,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve never yet bought a woman, Miss Fox. Surprising as it clearly appears to you, I haven’t had to.’
She could believe that. And she knew immediately she had made another huge mistake. Liberty groaned inwardly. ‘I’m sorry.’ She held his razor-sharp gaze even though she felt like bolting back into the cloakroom. ‘I had no right to assume…It’s just that most men…’ She didn’t know how to continue.
‘Take advantage of any opportunity to get to know a woman as lovely as you?’ A brief smile touched his lips and then disappeared. ‘I will plead guilty to that but not the rest. I am not “most men” as you’ll find out.’
Over her dead body. She wasn’t having anything to do with this man. He was dangerous. In fact, he made poor little Gerard look like a schoolboy in the seduction techniques.
Liberty forced a smile. ‘My father’s waiting; I have to go,’ she said quickly. ‘But I will phone and arrange for things to be sorted out.’
‘When?’ It was immediate, his eyes narrowing.
‘What?’ The nerve of the man, to try to tie her down like this!
‘When will you phone?’ he persisted silkily.
She had to get a handle on this, bring it back into the normal sphere of things. She called on all her training to keep cool and objective, or at least to give the appearance of being so. ‘Within the next twenty-four hours or so,’ she said evenly, refusing to be drawn further. ‘Now, as I said, my father is waiting, so if you’ll excuse me.’
‘There’s no rush; it isn’t as if he is sitting there alone. Is that your mother with him?’ For the first time since his teens Carter found himself trying to make conversation with a woman who clearly wanted shot of him. It astounded him. He half-expected her to tell him to mind his own business or to go to hell, but she did neither, merely staring at him with big brown eyes. Brown eyes as soft and velvety as a doe at bay.
‘No,’ she said finally. ‘She is not my mother.’
His lips twitched. Polite but firm, even though every line and curve of her body suggested she would rather be anywhere else than here. He ignored the screaming body language, saying quietly, ‘I didn’t think so. I couldn’t see any resemblance between you.’
Liberty shrugged. ‘There’s none between my mother and I, as it happens. She’s a small, blue-eyed blonde.’
Now it was Carter who stared. He had sensed something when she had spoken of her mother—very definite vibes and none of them good. Maybe it would be better if she didn’t ring him, after all; the last thing he needed right now was to get mixed up with a woman who came with baggage. He liked his relationships with women to emulate the way he viewed acquiring and
