Clutching at the relief that came from catching him in an outright lie, she was able to consolidate her position of antagonist. Ignoring his lying statement for the flannel it was, she enquired coolly, her eyes watching his impressive features for any sign that might reveal the devious workings of his mind, ‘So what is it you want?’ and immediately regretted the unfortunate choice of words because his eyes made that silent and very intimate appraisal of her body again while his mouth curved in a slow smile that battered her senses, making her wonder how she would feel if those lips were ever to cover her own. And he didn’t give her time to recover her equilibrium, to force the disgust for the type of man he was to smother the growing disgust she felt for herself before he was translating his silent appraisal into words.
‘Dinner with you tomorrow night.’
‘You must be mad!’ The words came out on a jerk of heated breath, colour rushing over her face, staying there as he rose smoothly to his feet, looking down on her, his eyes held in seeming fascination on the hectic pulse-beat at the base of her throat.
‘Mad, to want to get to know a beautiful woman a great deal better?’ He shook his dark head in a parody of amazement, devils glinting out of his eyes. ‘Even if she is a hell-cat.’ He turned the full force of his mega-watt smile on her. ‘But maybe that’s a major part of the fascination?’
She ignored all that for the rubbish it was and repeated stonily, ‘Just what was so important about your need to see Martin? Tell me that, and I’ll tell you you can’t have whatever it is you think you need, and then you can go away.’ And never come back, she tacked on in her mind, schooling her features to stony blankness.
And he laughed at her, he actually put back his head and roared his amusement and, if she could, she would have killed him for that alone. But what came next was worse, so much worse that she was left bereft of speech as he calmly walked out of the room after delivering, ‘I’ve already told you. I want to see more of you. Much more.’ The lilt in his wicked eyes underlined the ambiguity of that remark and his voice was a rich caress as he told her, ‘Dine with me tomorrow night, for starters. Be ready at eight. And if you’re thinking of making yourself unavailable then I suggest you winkle Dominic out from wherever he’s skulking and ask him if he knows of any reason why you should refuse to meet my demands exactly.’
* * *
‘What was he getting at, Dom?’ Selina shuddered as an icy blast of winter wind gusted across the hospital car park. She pulled up the collar of her coat, her troubled eyes holding her cousin’s. ‘Why should I see him tonight? Why should I do a single damn thing he suggests?’
Dominic shrugged, his eyes evasive, and, although she had repeated the gist of the conversation she’d had with Adam Tudor the previous night, right down to his parting directive, she sensed her cousin was holding something back, something that was giving him private nightmares.
‘Are you sure he didn’t give a hint about what he wanted, why he had to see Father?’
Dominic looked almost haunted, Selina thought on an inner shudder. But who could blame him? The trauma of Martin’s sudden attack, seeing him lying in that lonely hospital bed, surrounded by wires and machines, his face grey and gaunt, had upset her more than she could say. Even the threat that was Adam Tudor had taken second place in her consciousness, so no wonder Dominic looked haunted, seemingly unable to offer any help.
But Adam Tudor would have to be dealt with, somehow, and she would be the one to do it because she owed it to her family, she reminded herself, shivering again beneath the renewed onslaught of the bitter wind. She thrust her cold hands deeper into her coat pockets and shook her head, telling him rawly, ‘No, nothing. I did ask but he didn’t say.’ Her golden eyes darkened, a frown drawing her strong brows together. ‘Just that rather threatening invitation to dinner, and the suggestion that I should ask you if you knew of any reason why I shouldn’t do exactly as he said. I’ve no intention of going, of course. The proverbial wild horses wouldn’t drag me.’
‘I think you should,’ Dominic told her quickly, and her long-lidded eyes narrowed astutely.
‘Why?’
‘To find out what he’s really after, of course. What else?’ His face looked white and pinched, and no wonder, Selina thought with sudden sympathy. He would be as worried about his father as anyone, and this desolate car park, the raw grey January skies, the unpleasant subject of their conversation was enough to make anyone look as if the miseries of the world were pressing down on his shoulders.
She suggested gently, ‘He’s after something. I agree with you there. And we have to discover what it is and keep him away from Martin. But it would be better if we presented a united front. You and I could face him together tonight. He said he’d be at the house at eight.’
‘That’s impossible.’ He looked as if she’d asked him to roll down the street in a barrel. Taking his car keys from his pocket, he tossed them from one hand to the other and told her huffily, as if she were a particularly dense child, ‘Now we know Father’s in no immediate danger I have to get back to head office. Somebody has to run the company. I’ll be staying in town until the weekend, unless Father’s condition deteriorates, of course,’ he qualified impatiently.
And something of her disbelief that he should leave her to deal with his half-brother must have shown on her face because he reminded her coldly, ‘You deal with the creep. I think you owe my parents that much, don’t you?’ and walked quickly away towards the red Porsche.
Selina gritted her teeth and pushed the wind-tumbled mane of her hair away from her face with the back of a leather-gloved hand. She didn’t need reminding of how much she owed her aunt and uncle—her uncle especially. And she would tackle Adam Tudor on her own, if she had to, but she just knew having Dominic at her side would have made it easier and wasn’t convinced by his sudden need to rush off back to head office.
In the circumstances, everything would have ticked over quite smoothly in his absence. There were plenty of staff perfectly capable of running the day-to-day business of the boutique chain for another twenty-four hours at the very least. It was almost as if he was afraid of facing his half-brother, listening to his demands and ruling them out of court.
And almost as if she was afraid of facing Adam Tudor again on her own, a cool inner voice mocked spitefully. As if she was afraid of that palpably cataclysmic masculine appeal. Afraid of the way she might react to it.
Which was, of course, absolute nonsense, she assured herself roundly, squaring her shoulders and marching over to where her Volvo was parked, the heels of her leather boots clicking decisively on the tarmac surface. She wasn’t a silly teenager to be taken in by a handsome face and a superb male body, or the type of voice that could charm the inmates of a harem out in droves!
* * *
Quite why she had informed Meg that she would be entertaining a guest this evening Selina was not altogether sure. That she would feel safer, keeping that unwanted dinner appointment here, on her home ground, conjured up the opposite—fear. But she had already assured herself that she wasn’t afraid of him, hadn’t she? And when the housekeeper’s thin face had registered surprise that Selina should be entertaining at all, at a time like this, she had announced coolly, ‘It’s business. And make the meal simple; there’s no need to try to impress.’
And so it was. Unpleasant business, at that, she reminded herself as she gave up the attempt to tame her abundant hair into a sober knot and allowed it to tumble all over her shoulders. And business that was best conducted on her own ground.
Although she had deliberately dressed down, making no concessions to her femininity, the dark navy fine wool dress she had chosen to wear seemed to flatter her greyhound slenderness, subtly emphasising the sensuality of the curves she had intended it to disguise. Strange. A frown caught the soft skin between her brows. She had never before noticed what the understated, very simple style of the dress did to her figure before, or how the deep, almost sombre colour made her hair look like living flame.
But it was too late to change. It was