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Her heart leapt; surely Marcus hadn’t found her already? No, of course he hadn’t, she told herself self-derisively. There was no way he could find out which hotel she was staying at. And she was sure she could trust Da
‘A message from a photographer about tomorrow afternoon,’ the receptionist told her lightly, only raising her eyebrows slightly as Joy took the piece of paper with that message on and screwed it up into a hall. ‘And the other is that a Mr Simms rang at about one-fifteen,’ she smiled. ‘He said he would ring again.’
‘When?’ Joy asked abruptly, wanting a word with Casey herself.
‘He didn’t specify a time,’ the young receptionist told her apologetically.
Joy just bet he hadn’t. Damn Casey. And she didn’t need two guesses as to why he had telephoned at all; he wanted to know how she had got on with her date with Da
Because for a brief time tonight her control had slipped completely—and he had been the cause of it…
The insistent knocking finally broke through the deep realms of her sleep-muddled brain, Joy coming awake with a resistant groan. Who could be calling on her at this time of the morning…? Oh, God— a glance at the illuminated bedside clock had shown her that it was only just still morning, the clock reading eleven-fifty. Of course, it had taken her hours to fall asleep after her eventful evening, and it had already been late when she had got in, but—
The loud knocking sounded again on the door of her suite. Perhaps there was a fire? Perhaps… It was no good sitting here wondering, she had to put on her dressing-gown and go and see who it was. Only it wasn’t her dressing-gown at all, she realised with a groan as she pulled on the grey silk robe that Lisa had lent her, along with everything else she was to wear this week. Oh, well, she was sure the staff in this hotel were used to seeing people dressed—or undressed—in all sorts of clothes.
She stumbled out of the bedroom into the lounge, noticing as she did so that the dress she had worn the night before was draped across one of the armchairs. She had undressed on her way to the bedroom when she got in last night, had just wanted to fall into bed when she got there. And then she had lain awake for hours…
Da
‘I knew you weren’t going to be ready,’ he said impatiently, shouldering his way into the room. ‘You aren’t even dressed!’ he added disgustedly.
Joy frowned at him, completely unconcerned by the fact that she wasn’t dressed; he shouldn’t even be here, let alone criticising her appearance. ‘What do you want, Da
‘We’re all waiting for you downstairs,’ he told her irritably. ‘We have been for the last fifteen minutes.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Twenty, now!’
She shook her head. ‘You’ve lost me, Da
‘Don’t tell me you didn’t get the message about the photographic session being brought forward to this morning, because Reception said they gave it to you when you got in last night!’ He scowled. ‘Some of us have had to change filming schedules to get here on time, and you couldn’t even be bothered to get out of bed!’
She ignored the last accusation, concentrating on what he had said about the photographic session, remembering the message from the magazine that had been waiting for her last night—a message she had screwed up to throw in the bin when she got into her suite. She had assumed it was just a reminder for her to be there, not an adjustment of the time.
‘I…forgot to read the message,’ she admitted with a self-conscious grimace.
‘Forgot!’ Blue eyes blazed Da
Joy had been having trouble following his conversation—the unaccustomed wine the night before, followed by her inability to get to sleep, and then falling into a deep sleep and being woken so suddenly, were not conducive to clear thinking. But the meaning of his last comment was unmistakable.
‘Of course I’m alone,’ she snapped.
Da
She knew exactly what he had thought, had seen the way he had taken in her appearance, noted her dress from the night before thrown over the arm of the chair—and she didn’t in the least like the assumption he had made.
‘I should get that if I were you.’ Da
She had intended explaining nothing, hadn’t intended even to be here. She cursed herself for not reading that message from the magazine the night before; if she had, she would have made sure she was far away from the hotel this morning.
Her politely enquiring smile as she opened the door was frozen on her lips as she saw who her second visitor of the morning was. Marcus Ballantyne.
And as he looked past her into the room, to where Da
CHAPTER THREE
‘SO, DANNY,’ Marcus drawled coldly, brushing past Joy as he strode uninvited into her hotel suite. The arm brushing against her caused Joy to take a step back, an action he acknowledged by the raising of one dark brow before he turned his attention back to the younger man. ‘This is the reason you’re too sick to be at work today!’ he taunted with hard scepticism.
Joy looked at Da
Da
Joy stared at him open-mouthed as he said exactly the thing to make the situation seem worse— and definitely different from what it actually was. Da
‘So I see,’ Marcus rasped harshly, his expression glacial now. ‘And did it occur to you, Da