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‘I can manage, thanks,’ Joa
‘Then this must be a new method of wheel-changing of your own devising,’ he said urbanely, folding his arms across his chest, and draping his tall, lean, elegant length against his own vehicle. ‘How fascinating! I hope you’ll allow me to watch.’
Apart from striking him down with a convenient boulder, or even the recalcitrant jack, Joa
‘You don’t seem to be getting on very fast,’ the hated voice commented at last.
‘I don’t like having an audience.’
‘I can believe you don’t like having me as an audience.’ She wasn’t looking at him, but there was something in his voice that told her he was gri
‘I didn’t ask you to stop.’
‘You wouldn’t ask me to throw you a rope if you were drowning. As you probably will if this rain keeps up—that, or die of pneumonia.’ He walked to her side, put his hand under her elbow and yanked her to her feet, without ceremony.
‘Leave me alone!’ She wrenched herself free of his grasp.
‘Willingly—once this wheel of yours is changed.’ He was fitting the jack into place with a deft competence that made her want to kill him and dance on his grave. ‘Go and sit in my car, and dry yourself off a little,’ he directed over his shoulder. ‘If you look in the sports bag on the back seat, you’ll find a towel.’
Instinct prompted her to reply haughtily that she preferred to remain where she was, but common sense intervened, reminding her that in this weather she would simply be cutting off her nose to spite her face, and that she was only laying herself open to further jibes.
The interior of the Jaguar smelt deliciously of leather upholstery mixed with a faint tang of some expensively masculine cologne.
Joa
In spite of the towel’s pristine condition, it was still his property, and she was deeply reluctant to use so personal an item. The idea of having to be beholden to him in any way affronted and revolted her. But she couldn’t escape the fact that water was dripping dismally from her hair on to her face, and, after a brief internal tussle, she unfolded the towel and began to blot away the worst of the moisture.
With any luck, he would be the one to catch pneumonia, she thought, glaring through the windscreen at him as he worked. And, as if aware of her scrutiny, Cal Blackstone looked round from his task, and waved.
With a snort of temper Joa
She’d been sitting with her father in the back of the Jaguar the first time she’d seen Cal Blackstone, she remembered with a shiver of pure distaste.
With regrettable promptitude, he appeared at the side of the car. ‘Your wheel is duly changed, madam. Don’t forget to have your damaged tyre mended.’
‘I’m quite capable of working that out for myself,’ she snapped.
‘Of course.’ He got into the driver’s seat, and gave her a long look. His eyes were grey, she found herself noticing for the first time. Grey eyes, hard as steel, and cold as the skies above them. ‘Please don’t overwhelm me with gratitude.’
Joa
‘I often use this road,’ he returned. ‘I like the view of the Northwaite valley from up here.’
‘If you can see it today, you must have X-ray vision.’
‘I don’t need to see it,’ he said softly. ‘I know what’s there by heart. I’ve always known.’ He pointed out into the mist and cloud. ‘Away to your right is the country club. As you come down the valley, there are the chimneys of the Blackstone engineering works. They’re generally what people notice first, just as my grandfather intended when he built the place. Then there’s the Mill, relegated to second place these days, I’m afraid.’ He paused for a moment as if expecting some response, some denial, and when there was none he continued, ‘And finally, down to the left, well away from the pollution of the workers’ houses in Northwaite, tucked away as if it’s trying to hide, is Chalfont House.’
When he smiled, his teeth were very white. A predator’s smile, Joa
For a moment she sat gaping at him, hardly able to credit what she’d just heard. Then,
‘How dare you?’ She could barely squeeze the words out of the frightening, painful tightness in her throat.
Cal Blackstone threw back his head and laughed. ‘Said to the ma
‘I think you must be insane,’ said Joa
‘You don’t have to.’ He was infuriatingly at his ease. ‘I want you, and I’m going to have you. There’s nothing more to be said.’
‘Well, you couldn’t be more wrong!’ Joa
He was still smiling. ‘And what do you know about it?’ he asked softly. ‘What do you know about anything, Miss Chalfont, except pride and your own version of the past?’ He shook his head slowly, his gaze locked with hers. ‘It’s time you began to think of the future, so let’s start your thoughts in the right direction.’
The car door refused to budge under her frantic fingers. It was clearly linked to some central locking system outside her control, trapping her there alone with him.
Shrinking into the corner of her seat, Joa
She said, on a little sob, ‘No—ah—no,’ then his mouth was on hers and all further protest was stifled.
Nothing in her limited experience had prepared her for Cal’s kiss and nothing could have done. He held her ruthlessly, crushing her soft breasts against the hard muscular wall of his chest, twining his hand in her still-damp hair to hold her still, while his lips plundered hers, relentlessly, hungrily—and endlessly.
She couldn’t breathe. The scent of his skin filled her nostrils with a sudden and desperate familiarity. Tiny coloured lights danced frenetically behind her closed lids. She felt physically overpowered, totally at his mercy. She thought she might be going to faint, and with the thought came a surge of anger, and contempt for her own weakness.