The Prospective Wife

‘You don’t see, do you?’ She shook her head disapprovingly. ‘A lot of people went to a great deal of trouble to do something nice for you, because for some reason they seem to care about you. How do you think they’re going to feel if this lot goes back the kitchen untouched…?’

The troubled frown that flickered across his face was barely discernible before his expression grew impatient. ‘I haven’t liked sweet things since I was twelve years old.’

Her arms folded across her chest and she wondered whether he had a better nature to appeal to. ‘You don’t like…and I suppose that makes it all right to ride roughshod over people’s feelings?’

His narrowed blue eyes drilled into her. ‘We’re not talking cakes here, are we?’

‘Your mother has gone to a lot of trouble specially preparing those rooms for you.’

This was obviously the point where he was meant to be overcome by remorse and self-loathing.

‘My mother isn’t going to lose any sleep over where I choose to sleep,’ he drawled languidly.

‘Well, if you’re not bothered about hurting Drusilla’s feelings…’

‘You have a nasty habit of putting words into a man’s mouth…’ His eyes dwelt for a long distracted moment on the lush curves of her kissable lips… Other things might taste more palatable on his tongue than her acid recriminations.

‘Consider the practicalities. Just how exactly do you expect to get upstairs to your usual bedroom?’ she asked him. ‘Crawl…?’ Tact and compassion had their place, but not when dealing with Matt Devlin. Empathy wasn’t going to get her anywhere with this man, but brutal practicality might.

She wanted to play hard ball…fine. Matt suspected he’d had more practice at the pastime than Blondie here.

‘I can’t carry you. I suppose you could employ some muscular young man…’

‘I thought we’d already established I’m not into muscular young men…’ he drawled.

Kat ignored this interruption designed to distract her, even though the reminder made her flush. ‘But I expect your mother thought you’d prefer to be more independent.’

‘You think I’m ungrateful…?’ With a twisted smile he watched her struggle with the temptation to rip his character to shreds some more.

‘I’ve seen the suite, and it’s conveniently close to the pool and gym… Nothing could be more suitable.’

Or decadent, at least as far as the leisure facilities were concerned. The Roman-styled pool-house complete with waterfall which had been converted from a stable block had taken Kat’s breath away and made her want to tear off her clothes and immerse herself in that warm inviting water… Considering what had happened, it seemed ironic that back then she’d been concerned about first impressions—being caught skinny-dipping hadn’t seemed to capture the right note!

Kat was too startled to even squeak in protest when his hand shot out and he jerked her towards the chair he sat in. Off balance, she came down heavily on one knee; she only prevented herself from falling any further by bracing a hand against the arm of his chair.

‘Is there some constructive reason you keep reminding I’m an invalid?’

She took a couple of steadying breaths and inhaled undiluted Matt scent—it was an earthy, all-male fragrance. A wave fresh of dizziness struck Kat; this man must have cornered the market in pheromones.

Her eyes slid to the fingers encircling her wrist. They were long and lean like the rest of him; their iron strength didn’t feel at all sickly to her… She, on the other hand, didn’t feel so great at all. Thready, over-fast pulse, sweaty palms—both of which he’d probably noticed—a churning sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. A wave of intense heat raised her body heat several uncomfortable degrees.

‘You’re not an invalid, but for the moment whether you like it or not you do have limitations…’ Relief washed over her. Against all the odds she’d hit just the right note of objectivity and caring.

The slight imperious tilt of his dark head was a concessionary gesture—at least, for the sake of harmony, that was the way she decided to construe it.

Their eyes clashed and the harmony theory fell apart. Kat’s ferociously pumping heart sent a surge of adrenaline around her body so fast she felt light-headed.

‘So, incidentally, do I.’ This time her voice had a faint faraway quality. The focus of her troubled gaze shifted significantly to the fingers still encircling her wrist.

Her hot vision blurred so that for a moment she couldn’t quite make out the defining line between his flesh and her own paler skin; the weak fluttery sensations low in her belly got stronger and more disturbing. It was all she could do to stop herself tearing her hand away.

‘And one of them is look, but don’t touch…?’ His extended thumb moved thoughtfully over the blue-veined inner aspect of her wrist. It must be the challenge—he’d never been able to resist one of those—that conjured up the fantasy image of Kat begging him to touch her.

The sweeping motion must have crossed over a sensitive nerve-ending because the sharp electrical thrill Kat felt shot along her arm in both directions.

His hand fell away and her delicately curved eyebrows drew into a perplexed line as a wave of relief way out of proportion with the event washed over her. She felt pretty foolish on her knees, but, given the fact she wasn’t sure if she had total control over her limbs, she didn’t have much choice but to stay put.

‘I can’t stop people looking,’ she admitted huskily.

‘So you can lay those pretty hands on me as much as you like.’ One dark brow lifted before he impatiently flicked a heavy section of dark collar-length hair from his eyes. ‘But if I reciprocate you’ll…?’

What would she do…? It was a purely academic speculation. Up until this moment he hadn’t even thought about sex… He’d forgotten what a distraction it could be, thinking… He was thinking a lot all of a sudden. He blamed it on that responsive quiver he’d felt run through her body when he’d touched her. So the lovely Kathleen wasn’t being quite honest when she’d said she didn’t fancy him… Interesting.

‘I’ll think you’ve fallen for my fatal charm,’ she suggested acidly. ‘We can all live in hope.’

Her snappy sarcasm lifted his brooding frown and brought a genuine grin to his face.

Despite her best efforts to remain dispassionate, Kat was charmed.

‘I always think that hope has an unpleasantly passive sound to it…’

Kat didn’t need telling that she was in the presence of a man who didn’t lie around hoping for things to happen; she was quite sure that he went out and made them happen. Everything about him said he needed to be in control of his own fate.

‘It’s a harmless way to while away a wet afternoon though.’

Even though Matt deeply despised the soft-focus image that lodged in his brain of her staring through some rain-drenched window he had to admit it was an absurdly attractive one.

‘And what do you hope for during those wet afternoons, Kathleen?’

He had the sort of voice that could effortlessly make a girl believe he could fulfil all her hopes. Her eyes widened with alarm as the stray thought just popped into her head from God knew where!

‘The usual things,’ she responded, gruffly evasive.

‘Like a husband, children, nice house in the suburbs…?’ he speculated. ‘The traditional female things.’

His patronising attitude really got under her skin. ‘Those being things that no man worthy of his testosterone would desire…?’

‘How many teenage boys would list becoming a father as one of their ambitions…?’ One dark brow quirked scornfully when she didn’t respond. His broad shoulders lifted expressively. ‘I rest my case.’

‘It’s just as well one gender feels the urge to procreate or the human race wouldn’t last long.’

‘Men feel urges, all right, but it’s impregnation and not procreation that drives them,’ he explained crudely.

Kat felt herself blush like an adolescent; the fact her blushes seemed to amuse him only intensified her discomfort. She couldn’t figure out how what had started out as a perfectly innocent conversation had degenerated into something so uncomfortable.

‘Perhaps I have a higher regard for your own sex than you do.’

‘Then more fool you, Kat. Fidelity is an alien concept to the vast majority of men.’