Return Engagement. Carole Mortimer

disappointed thoughts. ‘Until about half an hour ago. I must have made the quickest change in history, and— What is it?’ He frowned as he saw she was slowly nodding at his words.

      Her cheeks felt slightly warm as she blushed slightly. ‘I was—well, I was just thinking that that accounts for it,’ she admitted awkwardly.

      Dark blond brows rose. ‘Accounts for what?’ he said slowly.

      It was hardly her place to tell one of the hotel guests he was less than immaculately dressed! ‘I— Well— You see—’

      He frowned down at his own appearance as he realised this was what seemed to be causing her embarrassment. ‘Hell, I haven’t put odd socks on again, have I?—no, that can’t be it,’ he ruefully answered his own suggestion. ‘You can’t see as far down as my feet. All right,’ he sighed, ‘what is it? Blood on my shirt collar? Shaving foam in my ears? Blood on my shirt collar and shaving foam in my ears?’ he groaned desperately.

      Cyn was laughing by this time; she couldn’t help it. Because from his self-derisive attitude to the suggestion that he might have done any one—or all three!—of those things, she had a feeling that he had been guilty of all three of them on at least one occasion! ‘None of those things,’ she assured him, still smiling. ‘Although your bow-tie is less than perfect,’ she told him with a rueful grimace.

      He put up a self-conscious hand to the offending item, a long, sensitive-looking hand, the fingers long and tapered. ‘I never was any good with the damned things,’ he muttered, looking up. ‘I don’t suppose you...?’

      Cyn frowned her puzzlement. ‘I what?’

      ‘You can’t be any worse at tying bow-ties than I am,’ he decided firmly, leaning forward over the desk once again. ‘Have a go,’ he suggested, thrusting his chin forward to allow her better access to the tie at his throat.

      She stared at him in dismay for several seconds. She couldn’t just go around rearranging guests’ dress! There was sure to be a rule about it somewhere in the contract she had signed to work here at all, and as she had only been here a matter of weeks—

      ‘Well?’ He muttered with his jaw clenched, obviously tiring of the unnatural pose. ‘I could get a stiff neck if I have to hold my chin up much longer, and end up walking about like this all evening. Then I’ll really be popular!’

      With the woman at the Thorntons’ party who was waiting for his arrival. But what was she worrying about? Cyn derided herself; she was never likely to see this man again, so what difference did it make to her who was waiting for him in that function-room!

      ‘OK,’ she sighed heavily, leaning forward to untie the bow so that she could start from scratch. From the look of the crushed material the rather sad-looking bow she had just undone had been far from his own first attempt this evening!

      His proximity, necessarily so if she were to arrange the bow-tie at all, was more than a little unnerving! So much so that she made a complete mess of the bow herself the first time she tried. But the man was so close to her she could see the pores of his skin, the black flecks in those strange amber-coloured eyes, feel the warmth of his breath against her cheeks. How could she possibly be expected to concentrate?

      ‘Not so easy, is it?’ he said with satisfaction as she started again, luckily seeming to have no idea it was he himself who was making this so difficult for her.

      ‘Mmm,’ Cyn acknowledged as she frowned her attention on the bow-tie, her tongue sticking out between her teeth preventing her from making further conversation as she tried her best to concentrate on tying the bow rather than on the sensual magnetism of the man she was tying it on.

      He gave a sudden throaty chuckle. ‘Anyone finding us like this could be forgiven for completely misinterpreting the situation— I was only joking!’ he protested as she moved sharply away, thrusting her hands behind her back as if they had been stung. ‘You can’t leave me half dressed like this!’ he groaned as he put a hand up and found the bow was still incomplete.

      He was hardly ‘half dressed’, Cyn protested silently—although the suggestion did bring some rather vivid imaginings to mind, predominantly a situation where he actually could be ‘half dressed’!

      ‘Come here,’ she instructed impatiently, pulling him forward by the bow, her fingers moving deftly now, irritated with herself for indulging in such daydreams; this man might be slightly disorganised, but he was still someone important enough to be a guest at the Thornton party, and, as such, completely out of her league. ‘There!’ she patted the newly tied bow-tie with satisfaction. ‘You—’

      ‘Wolf, what on earth are you doing?’ demanded an incredulous voice.

      Cyn reacted with dismay to the sound of that intrusive voice, sure she was going to be in trouble now over the incident with the man she had now learnt was called Wolf—Wolf...! What sort of a name was that, for goodness’ sake? He didn’t look in the least perturbed by the interruption, giving her a rueful grimace before turning to face the woman who had called out to him.

      ‘Enquiring where the party is, of course, Barbara,’ he drawled easily. ‘How’s it all going?’ He strolled across the reception area to join her.