Untamed. Кэрол Мортимер

had until tomorrow morning at least.

      He was still as wet as she was, although his shorter hair was drying quicker than hers. ‘I decided to call Barbie right away, and—I have a job to do back in London,’ he shrugged. ‘I’ll be leaving as soon as I’ve changed and packed.’

      She couldn’t even manage a smile. ‘Barbie is—just a friend?’

      He smiled gently, pulling her into his arms. ‘Just a friend—my little witch.’ He sobered suddenly. ‘I don’t want to go now, but I have to. You do believe I’ll come back?’

      At the moment she wanted to believe anything he told her, nodding before she found her mouth claimed by his, kissing him back as if she never wanted him to stop.

      They were both breathing hard by the time they pulled apart, Rick resting his forehead momentarily on hers before moving away from her completely. ‘I’d better go—or I won’t want to,’ he added ruefully. ‘I’ll call you, okay?’ He touched her cheek with gentle fingertips.

      She swallowed hard. ‘Okay.’

      With one last rakish grin he was gone, leaving Keilly wondering if she had imagined it all, if Rick Richards had just been a wonderful dream. But the tingle all over her body told her he couldn’t have been, and when she undressed the slight redness to her breasts where his beard had scraped her more tender skin more than convinced her that he had been real.

      But would he really come back or had she just been an interlude to him? Worse still, would she find a story about herself emblazoned across some newspaper in the next few days, Rick Richards’ personal—very personal, interview with the woman who had scorned at Rod Bartlett?

      Oh God, Rod Bartlett! She had forgotten about him the last couple of hours. There was a possibility—even if only a very remote one—that Rod Bartlett could come back here. How was Kathy going to react to that?