Hers For A Night

‘I can’t see you being “hopelessly enamoured” of anyone,’ she muttered, knowing deep down that she also couldn’t see him really understanding any of her private reasons for doing this in the first place. ‘But surely I don’t have to tell you things face to face? Couldn’t I just put all the facts in a letter?’

‘A business memo, perhaps?’ Lucas mocked. ‘The file on Georgia Harding: name, date of birth, address.’

The final word sparked off a whole new set of questions in Gerogia’s mind.

‘And that’s another thing. How did you know where I lived?’

His shrug dismissed her concern as unimportant.

‘Why is that a problem? I know names and addresses and a whole lot more about all my other business associates.’

‘Yes, but I’m not just—’

Too late, she saw the trap he had laid gaping widely beneath her feet, and backed off hastily, but not quite swiftly enough. Lucas had seen her reaction, she realised, seen it and noted it with a smile that was frankly predatory, making her heart lurch uncomfortably.

‘In my case I think it’s more of an invasion of privacy. If I’d wanted you to know, I’d have told you.’

‘And the fact that you didn’t tell me was far more intriguing than any more direct information, as I’m sure you must know.’

That smile had grown, lighting but not warming the darkness of his eyes in a way that made Georgia think shiveringly of a soaring eagle focusing intently on the innocent rabbit or mouse it had marked out as its prey.

‘If you’re thinking that I did it deliberately in order to “intrigue” you, then I’m afraid I’ll have to disillusion you on that score.’

She could see only too well just how it would arouse his interest, of course.

‘I mean, I can see that a man like you, who’s used to having women if not actually throwing themselves at your feet, then at least coming running if you so much as click your fingers—’

‘You have a decidedly exaggerated idea of my appeal, Ms Harding,’ Lucas drawled with lazy mockery. ‘Or is it that your opinion of your own sex is so very low that you believe they have so little respect for themselves as to behave as you say?’

‘You’re a fine one to talk about respect!’ Georgia flung at him. ‘Particularly where women are concerned!’

That barb struck home, the long back stiffening in response, the dark head coming up, granite eyes blazing into hers.

‘And just what is that supposed to mean?’

Oh, damn, she’d gone a bit too far, said more than she had meant to.

‘I read the papers!’

‘And believe every word?’ he demanded cynically. ‘I gave you credit for rather more intelligence than that.’

Georgia wasn’t at all sure how to respond to the deliberately double-edged compliment, feeling as if she had been backed into a very uncomfortable corner.

‘And I have a friend-’

‘Oh, of course! And does this friend have a name?’

Georgia shifted awkwardly from one foot to another, feeling that she had been pushed into a corner yet again.

‘I promised I wouldn’t say.’

‘I see.’

The two syllables were so brutally clipped and curt that they made Georgia think uncomfortably of the sound of a door slamming shut, or the trap that she had imagined earlier snapping closed with bone-crushing force.

‘So you can throw out accusations, put any slur you fancy on my reputation, and I’m not even allowed to know the name of your informant?’

He was dangerously close to losing that famed cool. Georgia realised nervously, his potentially dangerous temper only being held in check by ruthless control.

‘You probably wouldn’t even remember her. And, besides, I don’t think your reputation—’ deliberately she gave the word a sardonic intonation ‘—needs any help from me.’

‘So that’s the way it is, is it? You’ve barely spoken more than a couple of hundred words to me and yet already you have me tried and convicted, found guilty without even so much as a chance to state my case.’

Georgia had to acknowledge that his assessment of the situation was close to the truth. The admission made her conscience prick her unmercifully, because normally she tried to be scrupulously fair.

‘And are you trying to claim that all of those newspaper reports were untrue? That you haven’t been linked with—oh, let me see.’

She listed names off the top of her head, counting each one off on her fingers as she did so. He let her get to nine before breaking in on her.

‘No, I won’t. I can’t deny that they were once part of my life.’

‘With the emphasis on once and part, I presume.’

Georgia was disturbed by her own reaction. She felt almost raw inside in response to the way he hadn’t even tried to reject her accusation of promiscuity, and yet should that bother her? If he wanted to risk his life by being so thoroughly irresponsible, then that was his own stupid business. She had no reason to be disappointed to find he was just as the Press had painted him.

‘And are you trying to say that you have never split up with a boyfriend, a lover? That you never realised that seeing someone was a mistake or that it was time to move on?’

‘Of course not!’

‘Of course not,’ he echoed cynically. ‘And I suppose that the so-perfect Ms Harding has never been dumped by someone you thought cared, someone—’

‘All right, you’ve made your point!’

‘Aha!’ Those dark eyes gleamed with unholy triumph. The eagle had swooped down on its prey with deadly accuracy. ‘Caught you on the raw then, did I?’

Hating him, though whether for his triumph or for seeing through her defences she wasn’t sure, Georgia drew a deep breath.

‘Oh, yes, all right! I’ve had my share of broken relationships.’

‘So tell me about them.’

Georgia blinked hard in shock, unable to believe her eyes as Lucas shrugged off his elegant pale grey jacket, tugging his tie loose at his throat and unbuttoning his shirt collar before settling himself in a chair. He leaned back comfortably, crossing one leg over the other with every appearance of total ease.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Tell me about them,’ he repeated, resting his head on the soft cushions and looking up, straight into her face, clearly noting the hectic colour that flared in her cheeks, the glitter of irritation in her eyes.

‘I’ll do no such thing! Just what do you think gives you the right to barge in here—?’