A Bride For His Convenience

‘No, but you are. Is that how you fight them off?’

‘Off? Who?’

‘All the men on your tours who fancy you rotten,’ he suggested.

‘It might interest you to know that that problem has never reared its ugly head,’ she replied tartly.

‘Only a matter of time.’

Caiti felt herself beginning to lose her temper completely. ‘Will you just go away, Mr Leicester, and stop tormenting me?’

‘Sure,’ he said easily. ‘But just so as there is no misunderstanding, Miss Galloway, I may not approve of you entirely but I do,’ he leant over the desk and took her chin lightly in his fingers, ‘fancy you.’

Their eyes locked, and the gold-flecked depths of his were filled with irony. Then he released her and strolled away.

‘And it may interest you to know, Mr Leicester,’ she said coldly and clearly, and waited until he stopped and turned back to her, ‘that if I were a man, I’d knock you to the floor!’

She swept her paperwork into her briefcase and strode away with her hair flying and serious anger in her heart.

He caught her before she was able to leave the reception area and there followed an undignified little struggle.

‘Just,’ he caught her wrists finally, ‘just listen! I’m sorry. That wasn’t a very nice thing to say.’

Caiti was panting from her exertions and this caught her off guard. She stopped struggling and did a double take.

He observed her surprise with a wry glint in his eyes and added, ‘I apologise unreservedly. But some women do trade on their looks and their figures.’

‘There’s not a great deal to trade on, I wouldn’t have thought!’

‘Then you thought wrong, Miss Galloway,’ he said gravely. ‘You may not be classically beautiful but you have a wonderful, slender litheness in the way you move, you’re the essence of chic, your hands, hair and eyes are stunningly beautiful and you have an irresistible personality.’

‘So why…?’

‘I’ve just worked out that it’s genuine.’

‘Because I wanted to knock you down?’

He nodded ruefully. ‘With very real longing in your voice.’

Caiti took an unexpected breath, and he released her wrists.

She rubbed them involuntarily.

‘Sorry about that too,’ he said barely audibly.

‘Apologies accepted,’ she replied rather breathlessly, ‘although—’

‘You’re right,’ he broke in. ‘Let’s not jump the gun even if all misunderstandings have been cleared up. When are you due back at Camp Ondine, Miss Galloway?’

‘Uh…’ she did some rapid mental calculations ‘…uh…in a fortnight, I think.’