Kissed By a Stranger

His answer felt like a rebuke, as he’d probably intended. She felt renewed stirrings of uncertainty. They saw life very differently. Was the attraction between them, however magnetic, enough of a counterbalance?

‘Yes,’ she said decisively, out loud.

The sea-dark eyes held hers until she had to fight a sensation like drowning. ‘Yes?’ he queried.

‘You asked me a question. The answer is yes.’

He chose to misunderstand. ‘Yes to what?’

Damn him. She felt another blush starting and fought it. ‘Yes, I’d like to repeat the experience,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘Yes, I want to see you again. Are you satisfied?’

He took his time responding. ‘Not yet, but I’ve no doubt I will be. And so, my dear Sarah, will you. I’ll collect you from the studio after you finish work.’

She should have been annoyed at his assumption that she had no other man waiting for her. Instead she felt a disturbing sense of exhilaration at the thought of walking out of the studio to find him waiting.

Under the table she felt his knee nudge hers. It was a casual, almost accidental touch, but it sent a tremor all the way along her spine. She had a feeling tonight’s show was going to seem endless.

CHAPTER THREE

AFTER lunch Luke insisted on driving Sarah to the studio, although she protested that she could take a taxi. ‘I’ve already taken up enough of your day.’

‘Will you stop organising my time for me?’ he said, a steely undercurrent in his voice. ‘If I want to spend an entire day ferrying you around the Gold Coast, it’s my choice to make.’

His authoritative tone met the tiniest resistance. She didn’t need him taking care of her, but at the same time his willingness to sacrifice his time to her needs brought an unwonted thrill of pleasure. No one had done that before, even men who’d sworn they were madly in love with her. She’d still been expected to fit in with their needs and schedules.

It was almost too good to be true. Was it too good to be true? Her hand froze on the car door and she looked at him. ‘Tell me one thing, Luke.’

‘What is it?’

‘Why aren’t you married?’

A vision of his assistant, Glen, working on this very car, flashed into her mind. Oh, no, surely Luke wasn’t...?

There was an icy pause. ‘Not for the reason you’re evidently thinking, so you can retract that journalistic antenna right now.’

He slid into the driver’s seat and leaned across to open her door. She almost collapsed into the passenger seat. ‘I wasn’t implying . . . ’

‘Yes, you were,’ he snapped. ‘Although you have no basis for it. If you must know, I was engaged to be married but a lot of things went tragically wrong. I decided I was better off alone.’

Was this the trouble which had driven him out of competitive racing? ‘What happened?’ she asked.

He eased the powerful car into the stream of traffic heading north along the highway. Without taking his eyes off the road, he said, ‘It’s a long story and not very pretty. Besides, I could ask you the same question.’

Clearly he wasn’t about to say anything more until he was ready. She wondered if that moment would ever come. Biting back her disappointment, she asked, ‘What question?’

‘Why isn’t there a man in your life?’

‘There was someone until recently,’ she admitted, determined to be more forthcoming with him than he was being with her.

‘What went wrong?’

‘He couldn’t handle the publicity that comes with my job. Being called by my surname was the last straw.’

‘So now you’re wedded to your career?’

His choice of words rankled. ‘Just because you walked out on a successful career it doesn’t mean we all have to.’

A muscle worked along his jaw and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. ‘Thank you for the reminder.’

Desolation assailed her. She was allowing annoyance at being excluded from this part of his life to rule her tongue. It was so unlike her that she blanched and rested a hand on his arm. The muscles rippled under her fingers and she swallowed hard. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

His sigh gusted between them. ‘No, I’m the one who’s overreacting. You’re entitled to your opinion.’

But it was a further reminder that he didn’t share it, she thought uncomfortably. Would he change his mind about seeing her tonight? How would she feel if so?

‘What time shall I pick you up?’ he asked, forestalling her concern.

As she named a time her heart did a curious somersault. It turned into a full-blown circus when he leaned across to open her door from the inside. Then he cupped her face and turned her to align her mouth with his, kissing her gently, but with lingering promise. As he drew his lips away he slid a thumb caressingly down the side of her face. ‘Until tonight.’

‘Tonight,’ she echoed, her voice husky. Suddenly what was in his past seemed to matter a lot less than what might be in their future.

It was an effort to keep her back turned and walk into the studio. Watching him drive away would have been too much of a give-away for both of them.

Because of the telethon, the studio was crowded. The usually quiet set where she prepared her segments was flooded with light and activity. The red on-air light flashed over the door, warning her to enter on tiptoe. She waved a silent greeting to the floor crew as she made her way behind the heavy backdrop curtains and up the stairs to her dressing room.

This room was also occupied by telethon performers, who apologised cheerfully as she backed out again.

The only remaining refuge was the make-up room, so she spent the afternoon there, making notes and plans for the evening. Half an hour before airtime, Richard Nero dropped into a chair alongside her.

‘It’s bedlam around here today,’ he complained.

‘At least you didn’t lose your dressing room.’ Why had he been spared? she wondered. Unless management was sending her a message about the anchor position. She searched Richard’s face for clues, but he was always so insufferably smug that his expression told her nothing new.

She indicated the evening’s running sheet. ‘What’s this segment marked “to be confirmed”?’

He avoided her eyes. ‘It’s a late-breaking story I’m working on.’

‘What about?’

One of the make-up people shrouded Richard in a cape and he shrugged, indicating his helplessness. Her anger rose. How long would it take for him to answer her? But he closed his eyes and the make-up artist went to work, ending any further conversation.

Two could play this game. She sat back and closed her eyes, willing her taut body to relax as a make-up artist began to apply the heavy television make-up. Whatever Richard had in mind was bound to enhance his image in the eyes of the powers-that-be. She only hoped it wouldn’t have the opposite effect on her image.

Do you really care? The question seeped into her mind and she gave a start, earning a reproving mutter from the make-up artist.

‘sorry,’ she murmured, and tried again to relax. Luke had planted the question in her mind, she knew. He was the one avoiding the limelight, implying that enjoying her fame was some sort of character flaw.

She didn’t agree, did she? If so, she was in the wrong business. Damn him for sowing such doubts in her mind.