He gave her a look of mock-surprise. ‘Really? What?’
Dreams, she thought silently.
She groaned. ‘Can we please change the subject?’
‘I’m quite enjoying myself.’
‘Well, I’m not. I think you ought to tell me about that lawsuit.’
Silence. There was an instant change of atmosphere. The air turned chilly. His eyes narrowed, the smile vanished. ‘I’d rather not. It would ruin my appetite.’ His mouth twisted in distaste.
She tensed. ‘I have a right to know what you’re accusing me of.’
‘I haven’t accused you of anything.’
‘All right, you’re suspecting me of something!’
He shrugged. ‘Forget it.’
She didn’t want to forget it, and he wasn’t going to forget it either, she was sure, but she doubted she was going to get anything out of him. All she had to do was look at the tough line of his jaw and the inscrutable expression on his face and know that he wasn’t going to do a thing he didn’t want to do. She twisted the juice glass between her hands. One moment he was warm and smiling, the next he was cold and inscrutable. It was a dangerous combination.
She sipped her juice, deciding she’d better not push the subject. ‘Tell me about your business,’ she suggested. ‘How many hotels does your company own?’
He took some eggs out of the refrigerator. ‘I’d rather have you tell me about your business. Do you work for a company or organisation?’
His reaction surprised her a little. Given a choice, most people preferred talking over listening. ‘I work freelance,’ she answered. ‘I take assignments as they come. For magazines and organisations, whatever, and I’m represented by a stock company which sells my photos to magazines, calendar companies, audio-visual firms, and whoever needs pictures.’
‘Do you like your work?’
‘Oh, yes. I wouldn’t want to do anything else.’ She glanced out of the window. It was still grey and cheerless outside and the sun was having no luck whatsoever. Clouds hung low in the sky and the general gloom seemed to fit her mood.
A few minutes later breakfast was ready and Chase sat down across from her. The eggs were done just right, as was the bacon and toast. There was a jar of orange-blossom honey and one of blackberry preserve.
‘I’d expected a flock of servants in this place,’ she commented as she buttered the hot toast.
‘They’re on vacation, except Mrs Lumpkins, and she’ll be in later.’
The phone rang. ‘Excuse me,’ he said and reached for the receiver hanging on the wall and gave his name. ‘Hello, Michelle? Is that you?’
Michelle. A woman’s name. Sky watched him as he talked.
‘I didn’t hear you.’ A pause. ‘No, I was not asleep. I’ve just finished breakfast. How’s Rome?’
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