Jake Matthews looked unperturbed. ‘I simply said what I thought,’ he said tolerantly, obviously not taking this seriously.
‘That “Miss Miles should stop trying to relive the memories of her lost youth through her books”,’ she quoted. ‘I think by that you meant to imply that Caroline Miles is a dried-up old spinster who should stick to her knitting!’
Once again he smiled, a charming smile that must have captured many a female heart. But it didn’t even cause Juliet’s to flutter! She was immune to men like this, and especially Jake Matthews.
‘You understand me well, Juliet,’ he drawled. ‘That’s exactly what I meant.’
‘And is she? A dried-up old spinster, I mean?’ she asked interestedly.
He gave a soft laugh. ‘I have no idea. I’ve never had the misfortune to meet the lady.’
‘Poor woman,’ she sympathised. ‘Convicted without a trial,’ she explained at his questioning look.
‘Have you read Mason’s Heritage?’ he asked interestedly, leaning forward, his elbow on the table as he sipped his wine, but continuing to watch her over the rim of the glass.
‘Yes,’ she snapped.
He nodded, as if suspecting as much. ‘Did you like it?’
‘Yes,’ her voice was taut now. ‘And so did a lot of other people.’
‘Mm, I heard it had a very good response.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe you should be the critic and not me, Juliet.’
‘Maybe I should,’ she agreed challengingly.
His eyes openly mocked her. ‘I’ll suggest it to my producer and editor.’
‘You do that.’ She turned away angrily, eating her meal in furious silence.
Overbearing know-it-all! She couldn’t stand people who were as opinionated as this man—and he did it for a living! And Melanie must have known she would rather be anywhere than sitting next to this man. This was positively the last time she came to one of these dinner parties, friend or no friend.
‘Besides what I do for a living,’ that now familiar lazy drawl interrupted her thoughts, ‘what else have I done to offend you?’
Sherry-coloured eyes flashed as she looked up at him. ‘Isn’t it enough?’ she snapped.
‘I wouldn’t have thought so, no.’ His gaze was warm as he made no effort to hide his attraction to her.
‘I’ve invariably found that the job is the man,’ she told him haughtily.
‘I do other things besides book reviews.’
‘Oh yes?’ she said uninterestedly.
‘Yes,’ his eyes had hardened to icy chips, giving her a brief glimpse of the ruthless man beneath the surface charm. ‘It just so happens that I enjoy my work.’
‘I’m sure you do!’
He sat back. ‘Why are you taking this so personally?’ he asked easily. ‘Do you get upset at every critic’s views, or just mine?’
‘Yours tend to be more outspoken than most.’
‘You don’t have to watch the television programme, or read the column in the newspaper,’ he pointed out reasonably.
‘Oh, but I do,’ she smiled coolly. ‘I like to see what outrage you’re going to come out with next. Your attack on Gregory James was almost personal.’
‘And Caroline Miles?’
Her mouth twisted. ‘When you know nothing about the woman it can hardly be called personal.’
He looked at her for several minutes, his gaze admiring. ‘I’ll tell you what, Juliet,’ he finally said. ‘You write a book and I’ll tell everyone what a beautiful woman you are, very independent, intelligent, and prepared to stand up for what you believe to be right.’
Juliet blushed at his description of her. She had believed that, like most men, he would see only the surface attraction and not bother with the intelligent woman inside the body. But Jake Matthews was turning out to be a bit of a surprise altogether. Most people would have accepted her earlier snub, or at least avoided the subject that had caused it, but this man had gone straight back to it.
‘Wouldn’t that be rather unfair? Besides, I’d probably write a poor story.’
‘What work do you do?’ he asked interestedly.
‘I work for Michael.’ She sipped her wine.
Jake smiled. ‘Then you’re in the right place to get your book published.’
‘Have you ever written one?’ She couldn’t ever remember seeing a book written by this man, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. Besides, if he had any sense he would write under a pseudonym, as the nature of his profession meant his fellow-workers were likely to be over-critical about any book bearing the name Jake Matthews.
‘Never,’ he laughed softly. ‘And I’m never going to. You?’
‘I wrote one once,’ she revealed slowly.
‘What happened to it?’
Juliet shrugged dismissively. ‘It’s at home somewhere, turned down by a publisher. Perhaps I should let you read it, get your opinion. On second thoughts, maybe I’d better not. The sort of criticism you dish out would break me.’
He gave a husky laugh, a deep attractive sound that caused several of the other women present to turn and look at him. Juliet realised for the first time that she was actually being envied her dining companion, that most of the other women here would gladly take her place.
She looked at Jake Matthews with new eyes, seeing a wealth of experience in the deep cynicism of his face, a knowledge of women in those narrowed blue eyes that hadn’t been learnt just by looking at them. This man was at least thirty-five, there would have been many women in his life, could even be one now. He could even be married for all she knew!
‘I’d be very gentle on you, Juliet,’ he promised softly.
She searched his strong features for some sign of a double meaning, but could find none. But Jake had been flirting with her, she knew that. She hadn’t reached her mid-twenties without learning something of men, and Jake Matthews definitely found her attractive. ‘What would your wife think of you showing such favouritism?’ she asked pointedly.
His mouth quirked with humour, seeing right through her line of questioning. ‘I’m not married, Juliet.’
Her eyebrows rose as she couldn’t hide her surprise at his single state. ‘Have you ever been?’
‘No. Have you?’
‘No,’ she replied tightly.
‘I’m sure you’ve had offers, though,’ he taunted.
‘Several,’ she confirmed stiffly.
‘And I’ve never offered once,’ he drawled.
She knew that. If he had offered he would have been accepted. There would be few women who would turn him down. ‘You’re quite old not to be married,’ she said bluntly.
‘So are you,’ he replied as candidly. ‘What are you, twenty-three, twenty-four?’
‘Twenty-four. And you, over or under forty?’
‘Under,’ he grinned. ‘I’m thirty-eight. Now that we have the question of married status and age out of the way perhaps we can get to know each other a little better. Do you have any family, Juliet?’
‘Just my mother. She lives in Devon. And you?’ If he could ask personal questions then so could she!
He