ED ?
To conceal her quiver of horror at the thought, she flung open the doors of the locally carved cedar wardrobe and put her mind to selecting something to wear for her planned trip to Castries, the capital of St Lucia, where she intended to do a little detective work in the library there.
A cotton Klein in all shades of green would do. Soft, understated and cut like a dream to dip in a huge scoop at the neck and cling alluringly where it touched till it reached her hips and flared into gentle swirls.
'Well, Ginny?' Leo murmured menacingly.
'I'd much rather you kept away from me,' she lied with a fair show of distaste. She laid the dress on the bed, wondering why she was so reluctant to save herself from Leo's clutches. 'I'll call Chas to look after me. He's trained to the job.' The smile of triumph she gave him at such a sensible solution was hard and forced.
'Isn't his wife about to give birth?' asked Leo mildly.
Her eyes flickered with irritation. The wretched man knew everything! 'Oh. Yes,' she said, as if she'd forgotten. But a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. She was to be godmother. The smile became wistful. It would be lovely to have a child of her own. A child, not an heir. 'That's one of the reasons I didn't ask him to come with me.'
'And the other?'
'Isn't that obvious?' she scathed. 'He'd stand out a mile in these surroundings and everyone would know he's some kind of bodyguard. Fond as I am of him, he does resemble Arnold Schwarzenegger.' She went to search for a pair of comfortable shoes. Green slingback mules. 'I'll dial an escort service in the States,' she muttered, yanking open a drawer and extracting her underwear.
'You'd be recognised in an instant by whoever you chose,' pointed out Leo irritatingly. 'Escorts must read all the gossip pages. You feature on them enough for your escort to make a few thousand dollars by revealing your whereabouts.' When she scowled, an infuriating little smile played about his mouth. 'You know I'm the only man who can fit in this kind of location and look vaguely like your husband—'
'You're not my husband,' she said, her voice rising in agitation.
'I'm the only man with the right experience, though,' he drawled. 'I could play the part very well,' he added meaningfully.
Her eyes collided with his—tawny anger and resentment, glittering grey. 'You're not sharing my villa or my bed!' she spat.
'I'd look a funny kind of husband if I didn't,' he pointed out calmly.
Ginny wanted to pull the drawer from the dressing table and throw it at him. To sweep the jars and bottles off the top in a frustrated, helpless temper. But, marshalling all her self-control, she closed the drawer, taking her underwear to the bed. She knew that his eyes were on the flimsy scraps of silk, knew that he was breathing more heavily. And she felt so drained by everything that had happened over the past few years that she wondered if she had enough reserves of emotional energy to stay in charge of the situation.
Logically it was simple. All she had to do was to pretend to Leo that he meant absolutely nothing to her. His masculine pride, that hateful arrogance would be his downfall. He imagined that the minute they were thrown together she'd fall into his arms, that he'd be able to defend his family's honour and satisfy his sex drive at the same time. A double whammy.
Well, he was wrong. Once she'd been burnt. Now she meant to stay away from the fire. The blisters hadn't healed and if she got close again they'd hurt her more than before. Though she had to admit that her resolve became shaky whenever he came close, whenever he turned those smouldering smoke-grey eyes on her and spoke to her in his seductive voice. All he had to do was to say he loved her and she'd fall into his arms. If he ever knew that, she'd be leaping into the flames without a second thought.
Proudly she faced him. Cold, aloof, uninterested. Inwardly she was shaking like a leaf. If he stayed, she'd have to be
To conceal her quiver of horror at the thought, she flung open the doors of the locally carved cedar wardrobe and put her mind to selecting something to wear for her planned trip to Castries, the capital of St Lucia, where she intended to do a little detective work in the library there.
A cotton Klein in all shades of green would do. Soft, understated and cut like a dream to dip in a huge scoop at the neck and cling alluringly where it touched till it reached her hips and flared into gentle swirls.
'Well, Ginny?' Leo murmured menacingly.
'I'd much rather you kept away from me,' she lied with a fair show of distaste. She laid the dress on the bed, wondering why she was so reluctant to save herself from Leo's clutches. 'I'll call Chas to look after me. He's trained to the job.' The smile of triumph she gave him at such a sensible solution was hard and forced.
'Isn't his wife about to give birth?' asked Leo mildly.
Her eyes flickered with irritation. The wretched man knew everything! 'Oh. Yes,' she said, as if she'd forgotten. But a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. She was to be godmother. The smile became wistful. It would be lovely to have a child of her own. A child, not an heir. 'That's one of the reasons I didn't ask him to come with me.'
'And the other?'
'Isn't that obvious?' she scathed. 'He'd stand out a mile in these surroundings and everyone would know he's some kind of bodyguard. Fond as I am of him, he does resemble Arnold Schwarzenegger.' She went to search for a pair of comfortable shoes. Green slingback mules. 'I'll dial an escort service in the States,' she muttered, yanking open a drawer and extracting her underwear.
'You'd be recognised in an instant by whoever you chose,' pointed out Leo irritatingly. 'Escorts must read all the gossip pages. You feature on them enough for your escort to make a few thousand dollars by revealing your whereabouts.' When she scowled, an infuriating little smile played about his mouth. 'You know I'm the only man who can fit in this kind of location and look vaguely like your husband—'
'You're not my husband,' she said, her voice rising in agitation.
'I'm the only man with the right experience, though,' he drawled. 'I could play the part very well,' he added meaningfully.
Her eyes collided with his—tawny anger and resentment, glittering grey. 'You're not sharing my villa or my bed!' she spat.
'I'd look a funny kind of husband if I didn't,' he pointed out calmly.
Ginny wanted to pull the drawer from the dressing table and throw it at him. To sweep the jars and bottles off the top in a frustrated, helpless temper. But, marshalling all her self-control, she closed the drawer, taking her underwear to the bed. She knew that his eyes were on the flimsy scraps of silk, knew that he was breathing more heavily. And she felt so drained by everything that had happened over the past few years that she wondered if she had enough reserves of emotional energy to stay in charge of the situation.
Logically it was simple. All she had to do was to pretend to Leo that he meant absolutely nothing to her. His masculine pride, that hateful arrogance would be his downfall. He imagined that the minute they were thrown together she'd fall into his arms, that he'd be able to defend his family's honour and satisfy his sex drive at the same time. A double whammy.
Well, he was wrong. Once she'd been burnt. Now she meant to stay away from the fire. The blisters hadn't healed and if she got close again they'd hurt her more than before. Though she had to admit that her resolve became shaky whenever he came close, whenever he turned those smouldering smoke-grey eyes on her and spoke to her in his seductive voice. All he had to do was to say he loved her and she'd fall into his arms. If he ever knew that, she'd be leaping into the flames without a second thought.
Proudly she faced him. Cold, aloof, uninterested. Inwardly she was shaking like a leaf. If he stayed, she'd have to be
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