think we’ve forgotten something. I don’t know your name. You don’t know mine.’
‘Is it strictly necessary?’ she asked with spurious brightness. ‘After all—ships that pass in the night and all that.’ She shrugged. ‘It might even be—more exciting not to know.’
‘Well, we all have our own separate ideas of excitement,’ he said with a touch of dryness. ‘But I’d still like to know what you’re called.’
‘Then it’s Catherine,’ she said reluctantly. ‘But I’m always known as Cat.’
His brows lifted. ‘Not Cathy—or Kate?’
‘Absolutely not. It’s because of the story.’ She shrugged again. ‘Someone once told me I was like The Cat That Walked By Itself.’
‘I wonder if that’s true.’ He looked back at her, half frowning. ‘I suppose you have a surname as well?’
‘And I’m sure you do too,’ she said evenly. ‘But we’re not going to use them—and that’s my part of the deal. First names only.’
He said slowly, ‘Very well. If that’s how you want it.’ He paused. ‘And I’m Liam. Sometimes known as Lee, but only to my intimates. So I’m afraid you don’t qualify.’
‘I’ll try and get over the disappointment. Besides, I’d probably be lost in the crowd anyway,’ Cat told him coolly. ‘And now I’d better get back to the killing fields.’ She hesitated. ‘So where do you want us to meet—this evening?’
‘Don’t worry about that.’ His faint smile did not reach his eyes. ‘When the time comes—I’ll find you.’
And he turned and walked away, leaving Cat staring after him, her face expressionless but a thousand alarm bells ringing in her brain.
CHAPTER TWO
I MUST be losing my grip, Cat thought grimly as she made her way back to the hotel, trying not to hurry too obviously in case he was watching from somewhere. Because this is a serious overreaction on my part.
It was ludicrous to feel like this—as if she was helpless, or threatened in some way. Because that was far from the case. She, Cat Adamson, was quite capable of taking care of herself.
And, yes, Liam—or Lee-to-his-intimates—was undeniably loaded with attraction, but he was by no means irresistible. In her scheme of things no man was.
No doubt he’d sampled all the local talent and decided to spread his net a little wider. A born opportunist, she told herself scathingly, who would benefit from the set-down she was planning to administer. Not that he was likely to see it that way, of course. But she doubted it would do any real harm to the male arrogance flourishing under all that dangerous charm.
What was it he’d said? I guess I’ll have to settle for what I can get—for now, at least…
What was that supposed to mean? she wondered. Not that she was ever going to find out, because, whatever she might have said, she wasn’t keeping this date.
Instead, she would simply cancel the room she’d booked for the night and be back in London before he even knew she was gone. And that would draw a final line under an episode which had disturbed her far more than she wanted to admit.
At the terrace steps she hesitated, taking a quick look back over her shoulder. But he was nowhere to be seen, she realised with a quick sigh of relief. Probably his tea-break, or whatever, was over, and he’d decided to return to work. She could only hope he wasn’t operating anywhere near the car park.
She stepped back into the Banqueting Suite, and straight into a wall of noise. The music had begun and people were dancing, their faces flushed and grinning, their buttonholes and corsages wilting in the heat.
Cat found her hand seized by the best man, Freddie’s recently divorced older brother. ‘I’ve been looking for you all over the place.’ He smiled at her winningly, eagerly. ‘Come and dance.’
She complied, because there was no real reason not to, even though she suspected she was going to find herself the target of some pretty determined flirting. His wife had left him for her boss, and Tony was clearly anxious to re-establish his own pulling power as a result.
He was obviously still raw over Cheryl’s defection, so Cat humoured him, at the same time gently deflecting his efforts to discover her London address and phone number. In spite of his bravado, he wasn’t really looking for a casual relationship, she thought. He already had the house, the job and the car, and he needed a wife to complete the set. And, as he was better-looking than Freddie, and an altogether nicer character, she was sure he would succeed. Only not with her.
She found, disturbingly, that Liam’s image kept swimming back into her consciousness. That she was focusing almost greedily on the memory of his smile—his touch. And that the mere thought of them was making her senses tingle and her mouth go dry. Well—that could stop, right here and now, she told herself with grim resolution.
Gritting her teeth, she threw herself into the fray of the party. She loved to dance, and there were men queuing up to partner her. There were lots of people who wanted to chat, too—old friends and neighbours of her aunt and uncle, who remembered her from childhood and were glad to see her again.
But that also had its trying side. ‘Haven’t you brought a young man?’ they kept saying. And, even worse, ‘It’ll be your turn next.’
Over my dead body, Cat thought, smiling until her jaw ached, while she fervently agreed that Belinda and Freddie, who were dancing together stiffly, with fixed smiles, made a lovely couple.
It was a distinct relief when the pair of them disappeared, amid applause, to change into their respective going-away outfits.
And as soon as they’d left for their honeymoon, Cat decided, she would also be on her way. All she had to do now was get out of this dress, which she would happily never see again, put on the casual skirt and top she’d arrived in that morning, repack her overnight case and pay her bill. She would undoubtedly be charged for her cancelled night’s booking, she thought, with a mental shrug, but it would be worth it for a speedy getaway.
But as she began to edge round the room she was pounced on by her father, looking furious.
‘Would you kindly have a word with your mother?’ He started in without preamble. ‘Request her to show a modicum of civility to my future wife?’
‘No,’ Cat told him with sudden terseness, glaring back at him. ‘I will not. I’m tired of being the messenger in this stupid war you’re waging on each other. From now on the pair of you can do your own dirty work.’
Good God, she thought. I can hardly believe I said that. I usually sigh, and agree to do my best.
Her father sent her a look that combined shock with sorrow. ‘I’m disappointed in you, Cathy,’ he told her heavily. ‘But then, you’ve always taken your mother’s side against me.’
‘Not,’ Cat returned drily, ‘according to my mother. Actually, I’ve done my damnedest to remain impartial, but that clearly hasn’t worked, so I’m going to become uninvolved instead. If you have bullets to fire, use your own guns.’
She
