Merlyn's Magic

‘No!'

‘You must be new here today, I haven't seen you about before,’ he smiled pleasantly.

And she was sure he made a point of meeting all the women young enough to find his looks and charm appealing. He had chosen the wrong woman this time! ‘Please,’ she sighed her impatience, ‘I'm waiting for—–'

‘Ah good.’ Anne hurried out to her, the design of the royal-blue dress suiting her ample curves perfectly, the high heels on her sandals giving her extra height. ‘The two of you have already introduced yourselves.’ She beamed her pleasure.

‘No, we—–’ The man Merlyn was rapidly suspecting of being James Benton returned her gaze with the same dawning realisation. ‘Merlyn!’ He grinned at her discomfort, holding out his hand.

She limply returned his firm handshake, deciding that the next stranger she met she would presume was the last person she had suspected; she certainly hadn't even guessed that this was Anne's husband James.

She grimaced—cringed, actually. ‘I'm sorry if I seemed rude to you just now—–'

‘You didn't.’ He gave her an understanding smile, those brown eyes twinkling merrily.

‘What did you do?’ Anne frowned her confusion as they all sat down.

‘What did I do,’ her husband corrected ruefully. ‘I thought I was playing the concerned hotel manager, and Merlyn thought I was trying to pick her up!'

Merlyn blushed as he put into words what she had already realised, all of his friendliness a few moments ago made in an effort to make her feel at home. ‘It wasn't quite like that. We—–'

Anne grinned at her discomfort too now, sharing a look of intimacy with her husband. ‘That makes a change, it's usually the female guests who try to pick James up!'

Merlyn was well aware of the fact that not by a word or deed had James given the impression he was trying to be more than helpful, that she had just assumed— If Elizabeth Taylor walked in here right now and told her she was Beth Jones she would take her word for it! Her judgment was sadly off beam lately.

‘I really am sorry if I seemed rude to you,’ she grimaced at James.

‘Hey, after a run in with Brandon you're entitled to feel a bit jumpy,’ he sympathised. ‘And I'm not exactly dressed for the part of debonair hotel manager,’ he agreed wryly.

This man would look someone of authority no matter what he did or didn't wear, possessing an animal grace that bespoke confidence in himself and his abilities.

Merlyn complimented him on the design of the hotel, avoiding the subject of Rand Carmichael and the night she had spent at his house as his unwelcome guest.

If the truth were known she didn't feel all that well. Her throat was sore, her nose felt ticklish and irritated, and her head ached. But after the mess she had already made of her visit, she felt the least she owed the Bentons was to be sociable now that she had arrived, joining them for dinner in their private lodge a short distance away from the hotel through the trees.

Just being with the other couple was enough to show Merlyn how wrong her first impression of James as a flirt really was; the married couple were obviously very much in love, constantly touching with a warmth that bespoke intimacy, their expressions rapt as they gazed into each other's eyes. After the cool respect her parents showed for each other, the Bentons’ relationship was quite an eye-opener for her.

But she felt even more ill by the time James walked her back to her suite, her eyes stinging too now, and she knew it wasn't just from the cold she could feel coming on. Anne and James had the closest, most special relationship she had ever seen, and the nearest Merlyn had ever come to feeling that sort of love herself had been when she looked at Rand Carmichael for the first time and knew she wanted him. And that wasn't the same thing at all.

‘What happened between you and Brandon last night, Merlyn?’ James spoke in the darkness.

Her face drained of all colour, and the pounding in her head became stronger. She swallowed hard. ‘He made it clear he doesn't want anyone, least of all me, portraying his wife,’ she explained huskily.

‘That was this morning, I'm talking about last night.'

Merlyn kept her face averted, knowing those deep brown eyes could become hypnotic if she let them, and that beneath the gentleness of his love for Anne he could be as ruthless as the next man. She shrugged. ‘What makes you think anything happened?'

His mouth quirked at her evasion. ‘It may have escaped your notice, but the rest of us call him Brandon.'

‘So?’ she challenged, having noticed that discrepancy herself, but putting it down to the fact that last night he had wanted to forget who he really was as he made love to her.

‘So you tell me,’ James prompted softly.

‘He let me sleep in his spare bedroom because he had no choice,’ she dismissed hardly.

‘Is that all?'

‘What else were you expecting?’ She forced lightness to her expression as she turned to face him on their entrance to the hotel reception.

He made a rueful expression. ‘Well, I haven't seen too much of Brandon lately; his choice not mine,’ James added hardly. ‘But he always used to be able to appreciate a beautiful woman.'

‘Appreciate, James?’ she mocked with raised brows.

‘Enjoy,’ he drawled.

Her eyes flashed. ‘The most enjoyment Rand found with me was this morning when he told me to get out of his life and stay out,’ she related bitterly, knowing she spoke the truth. He hadn't found physical release with Merlyn Summers last night, he had made love to Suzie, his wife.

‘I'm sorry.’ James took her hand in his. ‘He wasn't always like this.’ His head shook regretfully. ‘The four of us used to have a lot of fun when we were together.'

‘You and Anne, and Rand and Suzie,’ Merlyn said abruptly.

‘Yes,’ he sighed, seeming lost in thought. ‘It feels like another lifetime.'

Merlyn had no wish to hear about the cosy foursome they had made. ‘You had better get back to Anne, she'll be wondering where you are,’ prompted Merlyn lightly. ‘And I want to get a good night's rest before going back to London tomorrow.'

‘You're sure we can't persuade you to stay on a few more days?’ said James regretfully.

They had been trying all evening, ever since she had told them she would be leaving in the morning. ‘No one could do that!’ she told James vehemently.

As it happened it wasn't a someone that prevented her leaving but a something; she woke up in the morning with a raging temperature, a rasping sore throat, and legs that refused to support her to the bathroom let alone all the way back to London!