Their Engagement is Announced

‘It was exactly what I meant, Izzy.’ He sat forward, his expression suddenly intense as he reached out and clasped one of her hands in his own. ‘Where the hell did you come from?’ he muttered grimly.

She swallowed hard. He was playing with her; he had to be. In fact, she had been wondering all evening why a man like him should choose to have dinner with someone as ordinary as herself. In the end she had decided he was having dinner with her because there was simply no one else here for him to have dinner with!

‘Hampshire, actually.’ She deliberately misunderstood him.

Oh, she was tempted, so very tempted—what woman wouldn’t be?—to go along with his flirtation, just once in her life to forget—

But, no! She was Isadora Baxter—Dora, who had never been involved in a serious relationship in her life—and she was not about to jump into a flirtatious fling now with a man she had only met for the first time this morning. A man who was the complete opposite of everything she had ever looked for in a man. She wanted someone sober, hardworking—a son-in-law that would at last make her father proud of her.

Her father loved her, she knew that he did, it was just that he’d always wanted a son, and having another child had been an impossibility after Dora was born. So it had always been Dora’s wish to give him the next best thing; a son-in-law he could be proud of. She knew he would be horrified at her attraction towards a man like Griffin Sinclair!

‘Would you like coffee now, or shall we wait until after our walk?’

Walk? What walk? She didn’t remember him mentioning the two of them going for a walk, let alone her own agreement to the idea. ‘I—’

‘It’s a beautiful evening, Dora,’ Griffin added encouragingly, standing up to pull back her chair for her.

Dora stood up. She was feeling too mellow—from drinking too much good wine, she freely admitted—to be bothered to argue the point. Besides, the night air might clear her head.

She shivered slightly as they got outside. ‘I thought you said it was a beautiful evening,’ she said ruefully.

‘Beautiful doesn’t necessarily mean warm!’ he chuckled. ‘Here.’ He took off his jacket and draped it about her shoulders, lightly grasping her arm as they walked across the forecourt and into the gardens beyond.

Dora tried desperately not to react to the lightness of his touch, which wasn’t very easy when wrapped in the warmth of his jacket; the material smelled of him, a mixture of maleness and his aftershave. It wasn’t doing anything to clear her head, either!

She sat down at one of the picnic tables placed around the garden, lit by the lamps placed strategically to emphasise the flowers and topiary. Unfortunately for her already shaky senses, Griffin chose to sit down next to her, so close that the warmth of his breath stirred the hair at Dora’s temple.

And yet she couldn’t seem to move away. She seemed to be held there mesmerised by the dark intensity of his gaze. And so she used the only line of defence open to her—words!

‘I suppose you’re going to give the hotel a good write-up?’ She hadn’t meant to sound sarcastic, but even as she said the words she knew that she did.

Griffin tilted his head to one side. ‘And just what do you mean by that?’ he said mildly.

He knew exactly what she meant; he was just playing with her!

She could feel the hot colour of embarrassment in her cheeks. ‘I just thought, being such a close friend of Fiona’s…’ she mumbled awkwardly.

‘I knew what you meant, Izzy,’ he drawled with amusement. ‘I just wondered if you had nerve enough to say it!’

Her eyes flashed angrily now. ‘Don’t play games with me, Griffin—’

‘Then don’t jump to erroneous conclusions—Izzy,’ he returned hardly. ‘Fiona is a nice woman; I may deserve your derision, but I’m not sure she does!’

Wonderful. Now she felt really awful! But he was right. Her sarcasm hadn’t been directed at the other woman but at this man at her side. Unfortunately, it had backfired on her…

‘They are erroneous conclusions, Izzy,’ Griffin murmured softly as he saw her dismay. ‘Fiona was very much in love with her husband.’

But her husband was dead…

Besides, that explanation didn’t rule out Griffin being attracted to the beautiful widow. And Griffin was a very attractive man—even if he did give the impression he didn’t give a damn about anything or anyone!

She swallowed hard. ‘Griffin—’

‘Izzy…!’ he murmured throatily, before kissing her!

And with a passion Dora had never known before!

One minute they were sitting side by side on the bench-seat, the next he had pulled her to her feet, his jacket falling unheeded to the ground by both of them as he moulded her body to his, his mouth laying claim to hers.

For there was no other way to describe the passionate demand of Griffin’s mouth against hers. No gentle caress, no searching for a response, simply taking. As if he had been aware of her compliance all along!

Had she been so obvious in her attraction towards this man? Had she shown from the first how bowled over she was by his rakish good-looks?

Worse, had Griffin taken one look at her, a single woman of twenty-four, not beautiful, but not plain either, and realised she would be an easy conquest for his undoubted charm?

Was that the reason he had so arrogantly arranged for the two of them to have dinner together this evening?

Dora wrenched away from him. ‘That’s enough, Griffin!’ she told him coldly.

He kept his arms firmly about her waist. ‘We’ve barely begun, Izzy,’ he assured her huskily.

She swallowed hard, looking up at him in the glow of the garden lights. Lovemaking with this man, she knew, would be wild and beautiful—everything she had ever dreamed it to be. But he was a stranger, a man on the make—and not for love either!

‘You’re wrong, Griffin—we’ve finished!’ she told him scornfully, pulling completely out of his arms, resisting the impulse to smooth down her hair where seconds ago his fingers had run through it. ‘It’s been a charming interlude—’

His expression hardened, his eyes glacial. ‘Don’t dismiss me like someone you just picked up for the evening.’

‘Then don’t treat me like someone you picked up for the evening, either!’ she came back heatedly, her cheeks burning with humiliated colour. ‘Dinner was enjoyable, the conversation fun—up to a point. But in the morning I go back to my own life, and you’ll return to yours. Don’t delude yourself into thinking this place is reality, Griffin!’ She looked about them pointedly. Even the gardens seemed to have a magic quality to them now: the profusion of spring flowers, the shadowy corners a perfect foil for the house itself.

Griffin still looked down at her with narrowed eyes. ‘And just what is your reality, Izzy?’ he rasped. ‘Is there a man already in your life? Someone you go back to tomorrow?’

Only her father. There didn’t seem to be much time or space for other men in her life at the moment. Her last date had been over a year ago, and, as she recalled, that hadn’t been too successful.

But that didn’t mean she had ruled out the possibility of falling in love, of marrying, of having children. She was only twenty-four, and she had all those natural yearnings; she just hadn’t found the right man to share them with yet.

But that didn’t mean she would settle for indulging in meaningless affairs until she met the right man for her. And there was certainly no room in her life, even briefly, for a man like Griffin Sinclair!

She raised her head, meeting the angry challenge in his expression. ‘Yes, there’s a man in my life,’ she told him curtly, forgiving herself for not being exactly truthful about the role that man had in her life. ‘As I’m sure there are dozens of women in yours’!’ she added insultingly.

‘We weren’t talking about me,’ Griffin grated harshly.

‘Of course not,’ she scorned. ‘I’m sure you never answer those sort of questions about yourself!’ Her anger was bordering on tears now. Tears of dismay. At herself. For allowing Griffin to get even this close to her.

No doubt he would return to his own life eventually, and he wouldn’t even remember meeting someone called Isadora Baxter.

She wasn’t sure she would have the same success in forgetting him. ‘I should go back inside now,’ she said haltingly.

‘Should you?’ He was angry himself now. ‘Why?’ Because this man was disturbing her, was upsetting the even tenor of her life. She should never have agreed to have dinner with him.