“Wakey, wakey, Fergus!”

A bright female voice chirruped from somewhere near the bedroom doorway.

“I’ve brought you a mug of coffee.”

Fergus frowned, unmoving, eyes still closed…. He couldn’t possibly be awake. There was a woman in his bedroom.

“Come on, sleepyhead,” the female voice continued teasingly. “Sit up and drink your coffee.”

Fergus slowly opened his eyes, wincing as he turned his head, half afraid of what he was going to see.

Three cousins of Scottish descent…they’re male, millionaires and they’re marriageable!

Meet Logan, Fergus and Brice, three tall, dark, handsome men about town. They’ve made their millions in London, England, but their hearts belong to the heather-clad hills of their Grandfather McDonald’s Scottish estate. Logan, Fergus and Brice are all very intriguing characters. Logan likes his life exactly as it is, and is determined not to change—even for a woman…until scatty, emotional Darcy turns his neatly ordered world upside down! Fergus is clever, witty, laid-back and determined to view things in his own particular way…until the adorably petite Chloe begs him to change his mind—she’s willing to pay any price to get him to agree! Finally, there’s Brice. Tough, resolute and determined, he’s accountable to no one…until blue-eyed beauty Sabina makes him think again!

Logan, Fergus and Brice are about to give up their keenly fought-for bachelor status for three wonderful women—laugh, cry and read all about their trials and tribulations in their pursuit of love.

To Marry McCloud
Carole Mortimer

To my husband, Peter,

for his love and understanding.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

‘CELEBRATING?’

Fergus didn’t even bother to look up from where he sat slumped in a corner of a noisy nightclub, staring down morosely into his champagne glass, totally removed from the loud music that played and the hundreds of chattering people that surrounded him drinking and smoking, and generally enjoying themselves.

What a stupid question; did he look as if he were celebrating?

‘Has no one ever told you that you should never drink alone?’

Damn, the woman was still here! Couldn’t she see that alone was exactly what he wanted to be? And how he intended on remaining, he mentally added vehemently.

‘Mind if I join you?’

Of course he minded—

Wow…!

The woman’s persistence had at least caused him to look up, the angry dismissal that had rapidly been gathering force inside his head coming to a skidding halt.

This woman—girl?—was absolutely beautiful!

Barely five feet tall, she wore an above-knee-length fitted black dress revealing a slenderness, giving the impression she might snap in half at her tiny waist. Her hair was a long curtain down her delicate spine and the dark colour of midnight. Her face was ethereally beautiful, totally dominated by the deepest blue eyes Fergus had ever seen, and edged with thick, smoky black lashes.

So she was beautiful, was his next thought. So what? She was also pushy and forward, something he definitely did not need at this moment. If ever!

He leant back in the padded booth where he sat, his appraising gaze deliberately insolent as it moved from her head to her toes, and then back to that delicate china-doll face. He frowned. ‘Are you sure you’re old enough to be in here?’

She laughed huskily, revealing tiny, even white teeth. ‘I can assure you, I’m well over the age of consent,’ she told him in a cultured voice.

He wasn’t aware he had asked her for anything! Couldn’t she see that he wanted to be left alone, that he had been sitting here on his own for well over an hour now, that he had spoken to no one, and no one—wisely!—had spoken to him, either?

‘Mind if I join you?’ she asked again, indicating the seat in the booth opposite his own.

Yes—he minded! Did this woman have the skin of a rhinoceros? Could she really not see that he just didn’t want to even speak to her, let alone anything else?

Obviously not, he decided frustratedly as, not even waiting for his reply, she slid smoothly onto the seat she had previously indicated.

‘Look, Miss—’

‘Chloe,’ she put in smoothly, her blue gaze very direct as she leant her elbows on the table before resting that tiny pointed chin on her linked hands, staring unblinkingly across at him.

‘Chloe,’ Fergus echoed with an impatient sigh. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but—’

‘Then don’t be,’ she advised.

He had a feeling he was going to have to be if he wanted her to leave any time in the near future!

He sighed again. ‘This has not been a good day for me, Chloe—’

‘Maybe your luck is about to change,’ she murmured.

He didn’t want his luck to change!

He hadn’t been looking forward to the wedding today—after all, it was the second one he had attended in a month. First his Aunt Meg had married restaurateur and chef, Daniel Simon, and today—much worse!—his cousin Logan had married Darcy Simon.

Not that Darcy wasn’t a lovely girl, and he knew that she and Logan were head over heels in love with each other. It was just—he hadn’t realised just how deeply Logan getting married was going to affect him. Since childhood, it had always been the three of them: Logan, their other cousin Brice, and Fergus.

They had grown up in Scotland, gone to university together at Oxford, had all remained single for the last fourteen years, not living in each other’s pockets, but certainly enjoying the bachelor life when they had met. They had become known as the Elusive Three. Now there was only himself and Brice left. The Elusive Two just didn’t sound the same…!

His mouth twisted wryly. ‘I don’t think so, Chloe. Thank you for the offer, but—’

‘Would you like to dance?’ she suggested lightly.

He wasn’t even sure he could still stand up, let alone dance! The champagne had been flowing freely at the reception since the wedding ceremony this afternoon at three o’clock, and Fergus had definitely had more than his own fair share of the bubbly liquid.

When the party had begun to break up about eleven o’clock he hadn’t felt he’d been ready to go home to his lonely house just then, instructing the taxi driver to bring him here instead. But at least he had had the sense to realise he had better stick to drinking champagne; otherwise he knew he would wake up in the morning wishing his head weren’t attached to his shoulders. He still might!

He gave a heavy sigh. ‘What I would like, Chloe, is for you—’

‘Could I have some mineral water, do you think?’

He looked across at her darkly, wondering if she was ever going to let him get in a full sentence!

She smiled at him, and Fergus found his expression softening slightly. After all, it wasn’t her fault he was in a foul mood. A mood that meant the last thing he wanted was to be so obviously approached by a woman he had never even seen before. Beauty notwithstanding!

‘It’s only a glass of water,’ Chloe teased softly.

How right she was; he wasn’t capable this evening of providing her—or any other woman, for that matter!—with anything else.

Okay, one glass of bubbly water, he promised himself, and then she would have to go.

He turned to signal the waiter behind the bar to provide him with mineral water and another glass, taking the bottle himself to pour some of the liquid for Chloe.

At least, that was what he intended doing, but at the last moment his hand seemed to have a will of its own, shifting slightly, some of the water spilling onto the table. Hell, just how much had he drunk today?

‘Whoops,’ Chloe sympathised gently, before placing a tissue over the spilt water. She raised her glass. ‘What shall we drink to?’ she encouraged brightly.

‘Absent friends?’ Fergus returned morosely before taking a huge swallow.

Not that he thought Logan would ever stop being his friend, as well as cousin. But he just knew things would never be the same between them now that Logan shared his life with his wife.

The same age, thirty-five, the three cousins had always been more like brothers, offering each other broad shoulders during times of trouble. It was going to take some time to adjust to the fact that Logan now had Darcy as his soul mate…

Chloe was eyeing him teasingly. ‘I was always told that champagne should be sipped slowly in order to be properly appreciated.’

Fergus nodded tersely. ‘Whoever told you that was correct.’ Especially where a vintage champagne like this one was concerned! ‘I did try to warn you I’m not very good company,’ he glowered.

‘So you did.’ She appeared completely unperturbed by his taciturn mood. ‘Is it anything you would like to talk about?’ she encouraged softly.

Not to a woman he didn’t know, and didn’t want to know, either, thank you very much!

Chloe tilted her head thoughtfully to one side as she looked across at him, her hair taking on a blue-black sheen in the subdued lighting of the crowded nightclub. ‘You’re Fergus McCloud, aren’t you?’ she finally recognised appreciatively.

Fergus stiffened defensively. ‘Am I?’ he returned warily.

Was that the reason she had been so determined to speak to him? If it was, she was wasting her time; he wasn’t into literary groupies. Again, beauty notwithstanding!

‘Of course you are,’ she answered. ‘I’ve read several of your books, seen your photograph on the cover. You’re very good,’ she added warmly.

‘Thanks,’ he replied uninterestedly.

Chloe laughed. ‘But you aren’t impressed,’ she easily guessed.

‘Not really,’ he returned bluntly. ‘You see, I’ve read them too. They’re your standard thriller: a bit of mystery, a touch of violence, mixed together with a lot of sex!’

‘You’ve had six books published during the last six years, and each one has reached the number-one spot on the best-seller list,’ she corrected softly. ‘I would hardly call that “standard”.’

Now, in spite of himself, he was impressed! But the fact that she knew all that about him only convinced Fergus more that this woman Chloe was a literary groupie. Or worse!

He shrugged. ‘That just goes to show you that there’s no accounting for public taste.’

‘My, you are feeling sorry for yourself this evening, aren’t you?’ Chloe rejoined speculatively.

Yes, he was—so why didn’t she just leave him alone to wallow in it?

Getting to know this man had turned out to be much harder than she had imagined it would be, Chloe admitted inwardly.

For weeks she had been desperately searching for a way in which she might ‘accidentally’ meet Fergus McCloud, finally coming to realise that it was virtually impossible. The fact that he was so successful as a writer meant that he no longer practised as a lawyer, so he didn’t have an office to go to. His social life was sporadic, to say the least. The only thing she had been able to come up with, where she’d known he would definitely be in attendance, was his cousin Logan’s wedding today; after all, he was the best man! But as Chloe didn’t know either the bride or the groom, there was no way she could have gatecrashed!

Feeling thoroughly disheartened about the whole situation, she had accepted an invitation to spend the evening with a group of friends with whom she had been at university, going out to dinner before moving on to a nightclub. This nightclub. Chloe had hardly been able to believe her luck when, standing near the door with her group of friends and preparing to go on to somewhere else, she had actually seen Fergus McCloud coming in. Alone.

For a moment she had panicked, wondering what to do. Here had been her chance at last—and she hadn’t known what to do about it! But then she had forced herself to calm down, to think.

The answer had been obvious; she’d made her excuses to her friends, explained she had changed her mind about going on somewhere else, and was going to go home. But, instead, she had followed Fergus McCloud back inside the club, standing at a discreet distance away to watch him while she’d decided what to do next.

He’d appeared to be alone, but she hadn’t been sure whether or not someone, a woman, would eventually join him. After an hour, when he had drunk his way through one bottle of champagne, and ordered another one, she had decided that nobody would.

It was perfect, the ideal opportunity for her to at least have a chance to speak to him.

Except he had made it more than plain from the beginning that he didn’t want to talk to her.

Well, she wasn’t about to give up now!

‘How did your cousin’s wedding go today?’ she enquired conversationally, making no effort to drink the water he had poured for her; it had only been a way for her to delay having him ask her to leave.

Fergus frowned across at her, his good looks not in the least diminished by his scowling expression.

Chloe had known what he looked like, of course, but even so she hadn’t quite been prepared for the sheer physical force of the man. He was tall and powerfully built; there was no doubting he looked wonderful in his evening clothes. His dark hair was slightly overlong, his tanned face carved as if hewn from teak. Only his warm chocolate-brown eyes did anything to alleviate the hardness of his features.

Under any other circumstances, Chloe was sure she would find this man excitingly attractive. Under any other circumstances…

‘I’m not sure I like the fact that you seem quite so knowledgeable about my private life,’ he commented hardly.

That remark about his cousin’s wedding had been a mistake, Chloe realised belatedly, laughing softly to cover up the gaffe. ‘It’s hardly a secret that the business entrepreneur Logan McKenzie is your cousin. Or that he was getting married today.’ She shrugged.

‘No…’ Fergus conceded slowly.

But. He didn’t say it, but the word was there in his tone, nonetheless.

Chloe drew in a softly controlling breath. She wasn’t very good at this sort of thing, never had been. In fact, her behaviour this evening, approaching Fergus McCloud as she had, talking to him, inviting herself to join him, pressing him to provide her with a glass of water, was all totally out of character. Her friends and family would have been shocked if they could have seen and heard her! But she had been taken completely off guard by seeing Fergus arrive at the nightclub so suddenly, and had simply acted on impulse by inviting herself to join him. He certainly didn’t look in a mood to introduce himself to her!

‘It’s the society wedding of the month, Fergus,’ she chided him teasingly.

‘Hmm.’ He grimaced his distaste in recognition of that fact. ‘Well, to answer your question, it went well. Or, as well as any wedding can be expected to,’ he amended.

She raised dark brows. ‘You don’t like weddings?’

Once again he frowned across at her. ‘You aren’t a reporter, are you?’ he prompted suspiciously. ‘I’m not going to see my less-than-sober remarks splashed across the front page of a newspaper in the morning, am I?’

Hardly; she was no more enamoured of reporters than he appeared to be. They had already helped ruin her life once…

‘No,’ she assured him with certainty. ‘I was interested, that’s all.’

Struggling for a topic of conversation probably more accurately described it, she acknowledged ruefully. This was certainly heavy going.

‘Well, as I’ve already told you, it was fine,’ Fergus said abruptly. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me?’ He put down his glass, sliding over to the end of the seat in preparation of standing up. ‘It’s time I got myself a taxi home.’

Chloe stared across at him in dismay. He couldn’t go! She hadn’t even begun to talk to him yet. If he left now, she might never get the chance to talk to him again. This was—

‘Oh, hell—!’ Fergus McCloud groaned as, having attempted to stand up, he suddenly found himself sitting back down again. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. ‘I don’t suppose you would like to do me a favour, would you?’ he asked Chloe very carefully, his eyes still closed.

Anything! As long as it meant he wasn’t about to just get up and walk away from her. Although, for the moment—thankfully!—he didn’t seem able to do that.

‘Yes?’ Chloe responded breathlessly.

He continued to breathe deeply, looking across at her with those warm brown eyes. ‘I seem to find myself temporarily unable to stand up. Actually, I’m drunk!’ he amended with forceful self-disgust. ‘Legless. Literally! I can’t remember the last time I— Yes, I can,’ he groaned. ‘It was when I graduated from Oxford fourteen years ago. I couldn’t get out of bed for two days afterwards!’

Her own graduation from university had only been a couple of years ago and, as she easily recalled, everyone had let themselves relax and had a good time; after three years’ hard work, they had needed to.

‘What would you like me to do?’ she offered.

‘Could you help me outside and put me in a taxi?’ He grimaced. Obviously he wasn’t a man accustomed to asking anyone for help.

She could do better than that, and it would suit her purpose much better. But she would keep that to herself for the moment…

‘Of course.’ She stood up smoothly, securing the strap of her evening bag on her shoulder before moving lightly round the table. ‘Just stand up and lean on me,’ she encouraged.

He eyed the slenderness of her frame with obvious scepticism. ‘I don’t think I had better “lean” too heavily,’ he observed. ‘Or we’ll both fall over!’

He was a good foot taller than Chloe, even in her three-inch heels, and probably weighed twice as much as her too. But she was stronger than she looked, helping him to his feet without too much difficulty, her arm about his waist, his across her shoulders as the two of them began to walk towards the exit.

‘This is so embarrassing,’ Fergus muttered grimly when they had crossed half the distance to the door without mishap.

Chloe turned to grin up at him unsympathetically. ‘Just think of it as practising for your old age!’

He gave a disgusted snort. ‘I feel a hundred now!’

He didn’t look it. In fact, he looked rather boyish, younger than the thirty-five years she knew him to be, his expression one of dazed disbelief at his own inability, dark hair falling silkily across his brow.

Chloe made no effort to put him into any of the waiting taxis once they were outside. Instead she helped guide him over to the green sports car in the adjoining car park, pressing the remote button on her keys as they approached to release the locks, swinging open the passenger door before helping him inside.

‘This isn’t a taxi,’ Fergus finally realised, looking around him dazedly, the fresh air outside obviously having done nothing to clear his head. In fact, the opposite.

‘No, it isn’t,’ Chloe confirmed as she got in behind the wheel to turn the key in the ignition.

Fergus looked ready to protest, and then thought better of it, leaning his head back weakly against the cream leather seat, his eyes once again closed. ‘Whatever,’ he accepted dismissively. ‘Do I need to tell you my address—or do you know that too?’

Chloe turned sharply to look at him. Had she given herself away so completely?

Fergus opened one eye at her lack of response. ‘Well?’ he prompted impatiently.

She gave a slight inclination of her head. ‘I know that too,’ she conceded huskily, accelerating the car out of the car park and into the flow of late night traffic.

‘Remind me, some time, to ask you how you know,’ Fergus murmured drowsily. ‘I have a feeling I’m not going to remember too much about this evening when I wake up tomorrow!’

Chloe sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case…!

CHAPTER TWO

FERGUS woke slowly, totally disorientated for several long moments as he moved his head gingerly to look around what he recognised as the comfort of his bedroom, his head feeling as if it were full of cotton wool.

How had he got here?

Damned if he knew!

He glanced at the bedside clock. Nine-thirty. He lay back on the pillows, his eyes once again closed.

What day was it?

Logan and Darcy’s wedding had been yesterday, he remembered that. So today must be Sunday, he decided. No need to worry about getting up just yet. He didn’t have anywhere else to go, no one to see, and Maud, his housekeeper, always had Sundays off. He usually worked all day on a Sunday, grabbing a sandwich to eat if he felt hungry, so there was really no need for Maud to be here—

Then why could he smell coffee?

Champagne delusions? Because coffee was what he most felt in need of? As he had hoped, he didn’t have a hangover, but his mouth felt as if it were full of sandpaper. A cup of coffee was very much on the agenda. He—

No, there was no doubt about it, he could definitely smell coffee. Strong, rich, reviving coffee.

But how—?

‘Wakey, wakey, Fergus,’ chirruped a bright female voice from somewhere over near the bedroom doorway. ‘I’ve brought you up a mug of coffee.’

Fergus frowned, unmoving, eyes still closed, aware that the smell of coffee was much stronger now, but completely uncertain about the plausibility of that first statement. He couldn’t possibly be awake. There was a woman in his bedroom.

Not that it was unknown for a woman to be in his bedroom; he had spent some very pleasurable hours with women in this four-poster bed. Just not last night. Not just champagne delusions, then, hallucinations, too!

‘Come on, sleepyhead,’ that female voice continued teasingly. ‘Sit up and drink your coffee.’

Fergus slowly opened his eyes, wincing as he turned his head, half afraid of what he was going to see.

Deep blue eyes. A long cascade of blue-black hair. A slender female body obviously completely naked beneath his casually buttoned white evening shirt, the legs bare beneath its thigh-length.

Not hallucinations; he had to still be asleep. There couldn’t possibly be an almost naked woman in his bedroom. He distinctly remembered he had left the wedding reception alone yesterday.

‘Coffee.’ She put down one of the mugs she carried on the table beside him. ‘Black. No sugar,’ she encouraged lightly.

Exactly how he took his coffee. But how did she know—?

‘What are you doing?’ he gasped disbelievingly as she sat down on the bed beside him.

She raised surprised brows, smiling down at him. ‘You don’t mind if I sit here and drink my coffee with you, do you…? Or that I borrowed your shirt to wear? It’s cold downstairs in the kitchen.’ She gave a slight shiver before taking a sip from her own steaming mug of coffee.

Fergus stared at her, not sure whether he wanted her to sit with him or not.

She had been roaming around the house, rooting around in the kitchen to find the makings of the coffee, obviously wearing nothing but his shirt! It was just as well it was Maud’s day off! His housekeeper was perfectly aware of his bachelor lifestyle, but that didn’t mean he had to flaunt it in her face.

Fergus turned away, ostensibly to pick up his own coffee and take a sip, but in actuality it was to give him a few more seconds’ thinking space. Except that it didn’t. By moving, he had discovered he was completely naked beneath the bedclothes!

Not that he should have been surprised by the fact, he realised dully. He didn’t remember meeting this woman, didn’t remember coming home with her, so why should he remember taking his clothes off?

There was, however, one undeniable truth to this situation: this woman—whoever she was—had obviously spent the night here. With him. In this bed. And he didn’t remember a thing about that, either!

Not even her name…

How the hell had this happened? Too much champagne on an empty stomach, came the obvious answer.

He remembered leaving the wedding reception. He vaguely recalled going on to the nightclub. After that—nothing!

“‘Thank you, Chloe”,’ she mocked behind him. ‘You’re welcome, Fergus,’ she answered liltingly.

Chloe. Her name was Chloe, he acknowledged with some relief. But he didn’t—

Yes, he did. Some of it was coming back to him now. The nightclub. She had come over and spoken to him. Sat with him, even though he had been less than enthusiastic. Had drunk with him. Gone to bed with him…?

Somehow he seemed to have missed something between drinking the champagne at the nightclub last night and waking up to find her in his bedroom this morning. He didn’t remember the two of them going to bed together at all, let alone—let alone—

How the hell did he get himself out of this one? He groaned inwardly. One thing was certain: he was never going to drink champagne—or anything else!—to excess, again.

‘Er—Chloe…?’ He turned slowly, slightly more awake now, blinking dazedly as he took in this woman’s delicate beauty.

She was so tiny. The hands that were cupped about her coffee mug were almost like a child’s. Hands that were bare of rings, Fergus noticed with a certain amount of relief; at least he didn’t find himself in this predicament with a married woman!

But that it was a predicament, he was in no doubt. How on earth were you supposed to behave towards a woman with whom you had obviously spent the night in bed—a night you didn’t remember? An apology didn’t seem to exactly fit the bill!

‘It’s good coffee,’ he said inanely instead.

‘Thank you,’ she accepted warmly, putting her empty mug down. ‘I simply can’t tell you how wonderful it was to meet you last night, Fergus,’ she added a little shyly

It was…?

Personally, he wouldn’t have thought himself capable of giving of his best in the condition he had been in last night, but who was he to argue if she—?

Damn it, it wasn’t a question of arguing; he simply didn’t remember anything of being intimate with this woman the night before, and he could not pretend otherwise. But he could hardly tell her the truth, either, his conscience warned him softly. Not only would that be insensitive, it would be extremely insulting!

‘I’m glad,’ he answered noncommittally, absently playing with the dark silkiness of her hair as he wondered what to do next. ‘Er—did we—?’ He broke off as the strident noise of the doorbell ringing resounded through the house.

Someone was at the front door!

Obviously, you idiot, he instantly scorned himself. But who on earth could be calling on him at—nine-forty-five, the bedside clock showed—on a Sunday morning?

There seemed only one way to answer that question. But with the beautiful Chloe dressed in nothing but his shirt, Fergus was loath to get out of bed to go downstairs and answer the door. Maybe if he just lay here and ignored it, whoever it was would go away—

The doorbell rang again. Longer this time.

His caller wasn’t going to just go away!

Chloe stood up. ‘Shouldn’t you go and answer that?’ she prompted.

Of course he should. But it could be anybody: his mother, who was in town for the wedding yesterday, or one of the women he had taken out during the last couple of weeks. He could hardly introduce any of them to Chloe when he didn’t even know who she was himself!

‘Wait here,’ he warned as he straightened, sitting up to swing his legs to the floor.

Yep, he was naked, all right. And a quick look round the room told him his dressing gown was in the bathroom where he had left it yesterday morning.

It was stupid to feel in the least self-conscious as he walked to the bathroom to get his robe. And yet he did. This woman might know exactly what he looked like without his clothes on, but he didn’t remember her knowing. He obviously knew what she looked like without her clothes too, but he didn’t remember that, either!

‘I won’t be long,’ he assured her before leaving the bedroom, more relaxed now that he was at least wearing his robe.

What an awful situation. Who was Chloe? Where had she come from? More to the point, what was he going to do with her now…?

‘Brice…!’ he breathed hoarsely after opening the door and finding his cousin standing there on the doorstep grinning at him cheerfully.

‘Fergus,’ Brice greeted lightly. ‘Nice car.’ He turned to look appreciatively at a green sports car parked behind him in the driveway. ‘Anyone I know?’ Brice raised inquisitive brows.

Fergus stared at the car. He had never seen it before. For that reason alone he knew it had to belong to Chloe.

Well, at least that answered one of the questions that had been plaguing him since he’d woken up earlier and found her standing beside his bed; with a car like that she was unlikely to be someone who expected paying for whatever services she had provided last night!

‘Or do I mean, anyone I should like to know?’ Brice amended teasingly.

No doubt his cousin would be as knocked out by the way Chloe looked as Fergus was himself. But Fergus suddenly found that he didn’t like that idea at all.

‘What can I do for you, Brice?’ he asked briskly.

The other man shrugged. ‘Don’t you remember that we made an agreement yesterday to play golf today? You said you weren’t working today, so I’ve booked us in for a round at twelve o’clock,’ he explained.

Golf. He had made arrangements to play golf today?

How on earth could he do that, when Chloe was still upstairs in his bedroom? When he had to find out exactly what—

‘Good morning!’ Chloe greeted cheerfully at that moment from directly behind him.

Fergus closed his eyes briefly in a wince. He had been hoping to put Brice off before going back upstairs to talk to Chloe; that way he could have avoided having the two of them meet. Her sudden appearance behind him meant it was going to be impossible.

‘And a good morning to you too,’ Brice returned lightly, looking past Fergus to smile at Chloe.

Fergus turned slowly, dreading the moment; Chloe had looked enchanting in his shirt, sexy as hell, actually, but, dressed like that, it was also obvious that she must have spent the night here. He and Brice were close, yes, but that didn’t mean he wanted his cousin to see Chloe looking like that.

But he needn’t have worried—she was completely dressed! The white shirt had gone, a short, slinky black dress in its place, her legs silky in sheer tights, high-heeled shoes on her tiny feet. Her hair was no longer tousled but brushed in a shiny blue-black curtain down the length of her spine, and her face was almost bare of make-up, except for a red lipgloss. But there was no doubt in Fergus’s mind that she was the most exquisitely beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life!

She joined the two men at the door, her movements gracefully elegant. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us, Fergus?’ She looked up at him expectantly.

Introduce her to Brice? Yes, he supposed he better had. It was just that for a moment there her beauty had actually taken his breath away!

He took in a ragged breath, his arm moving lightly about her shoulders as he drew her to his side. ‘Chloe, this is my cousin, Brice McAllister. Brice, this is Chloe—’ He came to an abrupt halt, looking down at her frowningly. He had no idea what her surname was!

‘Fox,’ Chloe provided laughingly as she easily read his confusion, holding out her hand to shake Brice’s. ‘Don’t mind Fergus, Brice; too much champagne!’ she quipped. ‘Now, if you’ll both excuse me?’ She included both men in the warmth of her gaze. ‘I overheard you two say you’re off to play golf, and I have an appointment myself at one o’clock. I obviously have to shower and change before then,’ she added with a self-derisive grimace at her evening dress.

Obviously, Fergus acknowledged tautly, already wondering who this one o’clock appointment was with. Besides, she couldn’t just disappear like this! When was he going to see her again? If at all?

Because suddenly Fergus found that he did want to see her again, very much so. It was very frustrating having this complete blank about their time together last night. He wanted to see her again, needed to see her—if only to have the chance to refresh his memory!

Chloe turned to him, smiling up at him before standing on tiptoe to kiss him lightly on the cheek. ‘I’ll ring you later, shall I?’ she murmured discreetly.

The effect of that kiss on Fergus told him at least some of what must have happened to him last night; his cheek still tingled, and his insides felt as if they were melting.

He had dated some beautiful women in his time, some incredibly sexy ones too, but he could never remember reacting that strongly to a single, almost platonic kiss before. Chloe Fox was pure dynamite!

‘Do that,’ he confirmed abruptly.

‘Nice to have met you, Brice,’ she said with a nod before walking over to her car.

Fergus watched her go, admiring the lean grace of her body as she moved, her legs shapely as she swung easily into the low confines of the sports car, giving the two men a brief wave before reversing the car down the driveway and speeding away.

Brice whistled softly at his side. ‘She’s absolutely beautiful, Fergus,’ he opined appreciatively.

She was gorgeous, Fergus mentally agreed. She—

She had just driven out of his life, he realised with a sickening jolt!

He, Fergus McCloud, a man who always ended relationships before they could possibly become serious, had just been given the brush-off. Big time!

Because Chloe Fox wasn’t going to call him—she didn’t have his telephone number!

Chloe managed to keep up her charade of cheerfulness until she had turned the corner away from Fergus McCloud’s home. And then her knees began to shake, quickly followed by her hands, the latter so badly she was having trouble steering the car. So much so that she knew she had to pull the car into the side of the road, or end up crashing into something.

Leaning her head back against the leather upholstery, she closed her eyes as her whole body seemed to be shaking now.

She had forced her company on Fergus McCloud last night with the sole intention of talking to him, had driven him home for the same reason. Having him collapse unconscious on the bed as soon as she’d got him up the stairs had not been part of her plan!

She had stared down at him frustratedly for several long minutes as he’d lain on the bed gently snoring, knowing that if she’d left then, as he had already predicted, along with nearly everything else about last night, he wouldn’t remember meeting her, either!

Having got that far, she hadn’t been able to allow that to happen. And so she had stayed, curled up uncomfortably in the bedroom chair, while Fergus McCloud had slept the sleep of the untroubled in the huge four-poster bed!

It had seemed like a good idea at the time; now she wasn’t so sure… She had aroused his curiosity, of that she was certain—he had obviously been stunned to wake up and see her in his bedroom this morning! But it was his compassion she really wanted. The problem was, she still wasn’t sure he was capable of it…

And then his cousin had arrived so precipitously this morning, putting an end to any chance she might have had of talking to Fergus!

She drew in a ragged breath, having finally stopped shaking enough to turn on the ignition and continue the rest of the drive to her home. A home she shared with her parents.

What would Fergus McCloud make of that if he knew? No doubt, on the evidence he had from last night, he thought her a completely free agent, able to come and go as she pleased. She hadn’t missed that quick glance he had given the ring finger on her left hand, had easily seen him relax when he’d discovered no wedding band there. But to assume she was answerable to no one just wasn’t true.

Although she should be in luck this morning; her parents should have gone to church by now, leaving her free to enter the house undetected.

She parked her car in the driveway beside her mother’s car, her father obviously having ferried them to church in his four-wheel drive.

Chloe breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that if her parents saw that she was still wearing the dress she had worn to go out in the previous evening, they would guess immediately that she hadn’t been home all night. And the last thing she wanted were any questions concerning her whereabouts previously!

She had reached the bottom of the wide stairway to go up to her bedroom, completely undetected by any of the household staff, when a door suddenly opened behind her.

‘Chloe…?’

David. Her brother-in-law, and also her father’s assistant. It could have been worse!

She turned to smile at him. ‘Don’t you have a home to go to?’ she joked, knowing that her sister, Penny, and their three children would be waiting for him there. And this was Sunday, after all…

Tall, and sparely built, his blond hair thinning slightly on top, David Latham had been her father’s personal assistant for the last fifteen years.

His presence in the house had brought him into close contact with all the family, and twelve years ago he had married Chloe’s older sister Penny. Their parents had been thrilled at the match, and absolutely doted on their three grandchildren: Paul, aged ten, named after his grandfather, Diana, aged seven, and five-year-old Josh.

‘I just had to stop by and drop off some papers your father needed as soon as he gets back from church.’ He held up the papers. ‘And shouldn’t I be the one asking if you forgot last night that you have a home to go to?’ he drawled, eyeing her clothes pointedly. ‘I’m pretty sure you aren’t going to join your parents at church dressed like that!’ he added forthrightly.

‘You would be right,’ she grimaced.

‘Don’t look so worried, Chloe.’ He laughed softly. ‘I was young once, too, you know.’

David obviously assumed she had been on a raucous night out. And it would be better for everyone if he continued to think that.

‘I won’t tell my father about you if you don’t tell him about me,’ she returned lightly, knowing that, right now, given her father’s precarious political position, appearances were everything, including those of his son-in-law and assistant, as well as his youngest daughter. ‘Now I think I had better go upstairs and shower and change—before anyone else sees me!’

David grinned. ‘You look as if a little sleep mightn’t come amiss, either.’

He was right, Chloe discovered a few minutes later on looking in the dressing-table mirror in her bedroom. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes, and her cheeks were very pale too.

But it had been a long night. Most of it, she remembered, spent sleeplessly as she’d sat in that chair in Fergus McCloud’s bedroom, wondering what sort of man he really was.

Oh, she knew his background. Knew Fergus and his mother had gone to live in his Scottish grandfather’s castle after his parents had divorced, that he had gone on to become a lawyer after university, that his career had been put on a back-burner since his rise to stardom as a writer six years ago. But those weren’t the things she needed to know about him…

Was he a kind man? A compassionate man? A man who believed in fairness, even at a cost to himself?

Those were the things she needed to know about Fergus McCloud—before she could even begin to ask him for what she really wanted from him.

Contrary to David’s advice, she didn’t go to bed, lunching at home with her parents, and David, Penny, and the children would join them, as they usually did on a Sunday.

Chloe spent the afternoon with her mother answering letters, and accepting or refusing the numerous social invitations they had received during the week. Where possible they were accepted; her father was about to make a political comeback, and being seen socially was necessary to that campaign.

But thankfully there were only the three of them at home for dinner this evening, meaning they could eat more intimately in their family dining-room, rather than the much larger room they used when they had the numerous guests that were invited to dine here at least once a week.

The meal was superb, as usual, but by the time they had been served and eaten dinner Chloe was definitely feeling the effects of her lack of sleep from the night before, excusing herself as her parents lingered over their coffee and brandy.

‘You’re looking a little pale this evening, darling.’ Her father looked up at Chloe concernedly after she had bent down to kiss him goodnight.

He was tall, handsome, and distinguished-looking, at fifty-five, his dark hair only showing faint tinges of grey at his temples. Chloe absolutely adored her father, would do anything in the world that she could for him. Anything!

He was infinitely kind, his compassion all consuming. He always thought of others before himself. In fact, he had all of the attributes Chloe was hoping to discover in Fergus McCloud!

She felt a heaviness in her chest just at the thought of the other man. He was another one of the reasons she was going to her bedroom earlier than usual. She had been putting off telephoning him all day, partly because she felt a certain apprehension, but also because she hoped it would make him more curious about her when she did eventually make the promised call.

Until she knew Fergus a little better, and could gauge the best way to approach him, she wanted to keep him guessing where she was concerned.

And she had certainly done that this morning! It was probably extremely naïve of her, but it really hadn’t occurred to her when she’d made the decision to stay last night that Fergus would believe the two of them had spent the night together in his bed. One look at his face this morning and she had known that was exactly what he had thought!

‘I had rather a late night,’ she answered her father ruefully.

‘Then an early night today is the ideal thing, darling,’ her mother encouraged warmly as Chloe kissed her goodnight.

Also in her mid-fifties, her mother was still very beautiful. She was tiny, with dark shoulder-length hair; her face was youthful, almost unlined, and her figure still as slender as when she had been Chloe’s age. Her deep blue eyes were always full of warmth and kindness. And never more so than when she looked at her younger daughter.

Penny had already been ten when Chloe had been born, a rather late surprise for all of them. But even as a very young child Chloe had sensed she was all the more precious to them because of that. As her family, and their happiness, were now infinitely precious to her…

‘I’ll see you both in the morning.’ Chloe’s smile included them both, that smile fading as soon as she was out in the hallway. Much as she would like to, she really couldn’t put off telephoning Fergus McCloud any longer…!

Once in the privacy of her bedroom, she took out her mobile phone and dialled his number—before she could change her mind! If she thought about it too long, she simply wouldn’t do it!

She felt her heart sink as the number kept ringing and ringing. It had never occurred to her that he wouldn’t be at home when she did decide to ring him!

What—?

‘Fergus McCloud,’ came the sudden abrupt response as the receiver was finally picked up the other end.

Chloe drew in a controlling breath before answering. ‘Have I interrupted something?’ she enquired with a husky confidence she was far from feeling. But it wasn’t going to help her cause if Fergus knew she had been so nervous about making this call and talking to him that she felt physically sick!

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, and then, ‘Chloe…?

He sounded uncertain, less sure of himself than he had last night and this morning. Perhaps the waiting game had worked after all…?

‘Who else were you expecting?’ she came back. ‘Or is that a silly question?’ After all, he could have a woman—several women!—in his life.

The enquiries she had made about him discreetly the last couple of weeks hadn’t uncovered too much concerning that side of Fergus’s private life. Although it seemed he hadn’t gone to his cousin’s wedding yesterday with a companion, otherwise he wouldn’t have been on his own last night at the club. Would he…?

‘Not at all,’ he drawled, sounding more relaxed now. ‘Actually, I was in the bath when the phone rang; I had to get out to answer it.’

But he didn’t sound too put out by that fact… ‘Does that mean you’re standing there completely naked even as we talk?’ Her tone was deliberately provocative.

Which was far from the way she was actually feeling! Just the thought of it conjured up visions of last night and this morning, of Fergus, in all his naked glory, strolling casually across the bedroom in order to get his robe from the bathroom.

It had taken every ounce of will-power she possessed not to turn away, to act as if she thought nothing of his nudity!

Although, she had to admit, Fergus was well worth looking at. Tall and muscular, his skin lightly tanned, not an ounce of superfluous flesh on his body, he moved with a lithe grace that was almost feline.

‘Not exactly,’ Fergus answered dryly.

‘Oh.’ She sounded disappointed.

‘I’m sitting down, actually,’ he corrected laughingly. ‘And I’m getting rather cold too,’ he added uncomfortably.

‘Mobile phone,’ Chloe told him abruptly—in order to stop her thoughts dwelling too long on those memories of his physical attributes.

‘I beg your pardon?’ he came back in a puzzled voice.

‘If you had a mobile phone, you could take it into the bathroom with you,’ she explained self-consciously.

‘No, I couldn’t,’ Fergus assured her firmly. ‘I hate the damned things. They’re an intrusion into man’s privacy,’ he stated with distaste. ‘There’s something rather unpleasant about the idea of just anyone being able to invade your bath; I’m rather more choosy than that!’

Chloe clearly remembered from this morning the luxurious bathroom that adjoined his bedroom, the large round sunken bath that dominated the gold and cream room; yes, it was more than big enough for two people to share!

‘Just a thought,’ she dismissed.

‘To what do I owe the honour of this call?’ he prompted.

Your unthinking actions are threatening to destroy my father, my family, all over again! she wanted to scream at him.

But she didn’t…

‘I said I would ring,’ she reminded him.

‘And do you always do what you say you will?’ Fergus commented throatily.

‘I find it’s usually best to, yes,’ Chloe rejoined. ‘How did the golf go?’ she continued conversationally.

‘Brice trounced me,’ he answered with obvious disgust. ‘What did you do to me last night, woman? I hardly had the strength to hit the wretched golf ball this afternoon!’

She hadn’t done anything to him last night! At least, not in the way he meant. By the time she had driven him home, staggered up the stairs with him, got him undressed and into bed, he’d been out cold!

She laughed huskily. ‘Poor Fergus,’ she returned noncommittally.

She knew exactly what interpretation Fergus had put on finding her in his home, his bedroom, this morning. After her initial feelings of shocked dismay at the realisation, she had decided it might suit her purpose better if Fergus were to be a little unsure of himself where she was concerned. But, even so, she was not about to tell him an outright lie…

That would be reducing herself to the same level as the people who had already destroyed her father’s career once. And almost destroyed their family too.

Eight years ago her father had been a prominent member of the government, in such a strong position politically that he would probably have become the next leader of his party, and so, in time, the next Prime Minister. But it had all come tumbling down around his ears when one of his aides, a woman, had committed suicide.

Susan Stirling had been aged in her mid-thirties, unmarried, not even in a long-term relationship—and she had been four months pregnant at the time of her death!

The newspapers had gone wild over the story, making a big issue as to who the father of her unborn child could possibly have been. Chloe’s father had become the popular choice!

The scandal and speculation had rocked on for days, weeks—her father’s official, and private, denials of the affair meaning nothing to the press.

It had been a nightmare; all the family hounded wherever they had gone, and Chloe’s life at school had been made miserable as even she had been taunted with her father’s so-called indiscretions. But her parents’ marriage, thankfully, had survived the furore, her mother’s trust in her husband unshakeable. And neither Penny nor Chloe had ever doubted their father’s honesty for a moment.

But, finally, the Prime Minister of the time, with another election coming up some time during the following year, had been unwilling to let his government be shaken by such a public scandal, and had regretfully had to ask for her father’s resignation.

Her father’s place in his constituency had fared no better when the general election had taken place eight months later, her father losing his seat too as his opponent had used the unsolved scandal to his advantage.

Eight years her father had been in the political wilderness. Eight years!

And now, on the very eve of his attempt to restore his career, his campaign for re-election next year already underway, he was being threatened from a completely different source.

Whether he knew it or not, whether he cared or not, that source was Fergus McCloud!

And if it were humanly possible, Chloe intended stopping him!

CHAPTER THREE

‘CHLOE…?’ Fergus finally prompted when she hadn’t responded to the question he had asked her several moments ago. Surely it didn’t take this much thought to know whether or not she wanted to have dinner with him! After all, she had been the one to telephone him.

Which was something he wanted to discuss with her over the dinner he had just suggested they have together later this week…

‘I’m sorry, Fergus.’ She seemed to snap out of some sort of a daze. ‘What did you say?’

Maybe she was just tired, too? After all, she couldn’t have had much sleep last night, either!

‘I asked if you would like to have dinner with me on Friday evening?’ Much as Fergus would like to have seen her before then—if only to ask her several pertinent questions!—he had his mother staying in town for the rest of the week, plus he assumed that Chloe probably worked during the week, and the start of the weekend would be more convenient for her, too.

‘I would love to. Thank you,’ she accepted warmly. ‘Where shall we go?’

‘Bernardo’s?’ It was the fashionable restaurant of the moment, the place where anyone who was anyone went to be ‘seen’. While Fergus wasn’t particularly into such things himself, he thought Chloe was probably still young enough to be.

Not that he had any idea exactly how old she was, but she looked to be in her early twenties. A bit young for him really—but he obviously hadn’t seemed to mind that too much last night!

‘Could we make it somewhere less…showbiz?’ The grimace could be heard in her voice.

‘Chloe Fox, you just went up several notches in my estimation!’ he announced with satisfaction. ‘I hate all that posing too,’ he explained ruefully.

‘Then why suggest we go there?’ She sounded puzzled.

‘I thought you might like it,’ he answered honestly.

‘Thanks—but no, thanks. We could always go to Chef Simon,’ she suggested lightly.

‘No!’ came Fergus’s immediate vehement response.

Although he, Logan and Brice had always been close, Fergus preferred to keep the rest of his family very firmly at bay. His Aunt Meg had recently married Daniel Simon, the owner of Chef Simon, and yesterday Logan had married Daniel’s daughter, Darcy; the last thing Fergus wanted was to turn up at the restaurant with Chloe and find himself at the centre of family speculation about his own private life!

‘Okay,’ Chloe didn’t question the reason for his protest. ‘How about we go to Xander’s instead? It’s—’

‘I know where it is, Chloe,’ he interrupted, knowing exactly where the intimately exclusive restaurant was.

He just wasn’t absolutely sure he liked the way this young lady kept overriding him and taking charge of things! Domineering women were not his favourite thing. He had his mother as a prime example of how destructive they could be. His father had only been able to take it for ten years before walking out on them both!

‘Unless you have somewhere else quiet you would rather go?’ Chloe suggested, redeeming herself slightly in Fergus’s eyes.

But only slightly. Fergus accepted that she was the most exquisitely beautiful creature he had ever seen in his life, that they had spent the night together—obviously!—but that did not mean he altogether trusted her. She knew too much about him for him to feel confident enough to do that.

‘No, Xander’s is fine,’ he confirmed evenly. ‘I’ll book a table for eight-thirty, if that’s okay?’ He was determined to choose the time, if not the place!

‘Fine,’ she agreed. ‘I’ll see you on Friday.’

‘Er—Chloe?’ He stopped her as he sensed she was about to ring off. ‘It’s customary where I come from for a man to call and collect his date for the evening,’ he explained dryly.

‘I thought it might be better if we went in my car. Just in case,’ she added teasingly. ‘I actually don’t drink alcohol, you see.’

‘Neither do I, to excess. Normally,’ Fergus instantly defended; it was impossible to ignore the reference to his inebriated condition of last night, even if the remark had been made jokingly.

‘You explained you were depressed about your cousin’s wedding,’ Chloe sympathised.

Fergus wasn’t sure exactly what he had and hadn’t said, and done, last night. And it wasn’t a feeling he was comfortable with. He was usually so much in control, master of his own destiny, and all that.

‘That was the champagne talking,’ he dismissed harshly. ‘I’m actually very pleased for Logan and Darcy.’ And in retrospect he was. Yesterday’s churlishness had faded. After all, he and his cousins couldn’t have remained the Elusive Three for ever! ‘I would also prefer to pick you up and drive you to the restaurant on Friday evening,’ he said firmly.

‘And I would prefer to meet you there,’ she came back just as decisively.

Fergus grimaced his frustration with her stubbornness. Why didn’t she want him to call at her home for her on Friday? Did she have something to hide? Someone? Just because she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring didn’t mean she wasn’t in a permanent relationship; not everyone bothered to get married nowadays. Although, if that were the case, her partner must be a pretty weak character to have let her stay out all of last night. He certainly wouldn’t be as understanding in the same circumstances!

‘Please yourself,’ he returned flatly. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’m rather cold and wish to return to my bath.’

He was also extremely irritated by this conversation. Something about Chloe Fox—and it wasn’t just her seemingly domineering nature!—really annoyed him. They had spent the night together, gone to bed together, and yet he didn’t feel that he knew her at all.

Well, on Friday evening he intended changing all that!

At least, he would have done—but Chloe had yet to turn up!

By eight-forty-five, he had been sitting in the restaurant for almost fifteen minutes, and there was still no sign of her. He was starting to feel decidedly uncomfortable!

The secluded corner table was set for two people, so it was obvious he was waiting for someone to join him, and he was starting to receive sympathetic looks from the other diners. When—if—Chloe ever did turn up, he was not going to be in the best of moods.

Besides which, he had ordered a bottle of wine while he waited for her, and he knew—to his consternation!—that he had already drunk two glasses of it in his increasing agitation. On an empty stomach too.

But he had been working hard today, and it wasn’t unusual, when he worked, that he forgot to eat. Despite Maud’s efforts to make sure that he was fed!

In fact, apart from spending some time with his mother before she returned to Scotland following the wedding, he had been working hard on research for his next book all week. It had been a way of diverting his attention while he’d waited for Friday evening to arrive!

Because, hard as he had tried, he hadn’t been able to find out a single thing about Chloe Fox!

A few discreet enquiries to his friends and acquaintances hadn’t turned up a single person who had ever heard of Chloe Fox. Directory Enquiries had been unable to help him too, when he had no idea of her address; the telephone book was apparently full of Foxes!

It was almost as if Chloe had appeared from out of nowhere. And, apart from that telephone call to him late on Sunday evening, had disappeared as completely.

He—

Wherever Chloe had disappeared to all week, she had now very definitely reappeared!

And, once again, she took his breath away!

If he had thought her exquisitely beautiful on Saturday night and Sunday morning, that was nothing to the way she looked tonight. And Fergus knew he wasn’t the only one to think so.

Xander’s was a discreetly exclusive restaurant, well accustomed to the rich and the famous coming through its doors. But as Chloe Fox moved gracefully through its crowded midst, the other diners fell silent, stopped eating their delicious food, in order to turn and look at her admiringly.

Her dress was bright scarlet red, Chinese in style, with a small mandarin collar, the silk material fitted to the perfection of her body like a second skin, its above-knee length leaving bare a long expanse of shapely legs. Her hair wasn’t loose tonight but pulled back and secured on the back of her head in a neat chignon, the severeness of the style revealing the full extent of her unusual beauty.

Her skin was as delicate as magnolia, liner giving those deep blue eyes a slightly slanted appearance, her lips painted the same scarlet as her dress. She was, undisputably, the most beautiful woman in the room.

Fergus couldn’t help feeling a certain satisfaction in knowing she was to be his partner for the evening.

He stood up as she approached their table. ‘You look wonderful,’ he told her as he pulled her chair back for her to sit down, his senses at once assailed with the delicacy of the perfume she wore.

Fergus had no idea what the perfume was, but he did know that he would never be able to smell it again without thinking of this woman. For good or bad!

‘Thank you, Fergus.’ She reached up to kiss him lightly on the cheek before sitting down. ‘Isn’t this a wonderful restaurant?’ She looked around them with obvious pleasure.

While Fergus could only look at her!

He was thirty-five years old, had known many beautiful women in those years, quite a lot of them on a very intimate level. But he had never known any woman before who possessed Chloe Fox’s sensually mesmerising beauty.

‘Sorry I’m a little late.’ She smiled at him now, revealing those tiny, even white teeth he remembered from last weekend.

But he couldn’t help feeling slightly irritated when she offered no explanation for her tardiness. After all, he had been sitting here for almost twenty minutes, feeling more and more of an idiot as those minutes had passed.

‘Would you like a glass of wine?’ he offered stiffly.

She smiled ruefully. ‘I really don’t drink,’ she refused with a shake of her head, turning to ask the waiter for some mineral water. ‘Have you had a good week?’ she turned back to enquire of Fergus politely.

His irritation increased. Politeness was fine, in its place, but between Chloe and himself he found it implied a distance that just shouldn’t be there after they had spent the night together last Saturday.

‘Very good,’ he confirmed tersely; he had covered a lot of research towards his next novel this week, should be ready to start writing very soon. ‘How about you?’

‘I’ve kept busy.’ She shrugged.

‘Doing what?’

‘This and that,’ she dismissed, those blue eyes dancing with mirth as she looked across at him beneath lowered lashes.

Fergus couldn’t miss the fact that her mirth was at his expense! This little minx knew exactly what he was doing—and she was just as determined not to be in the least helpful!

Fergus drew in a harsh breath. ‘Chloe—’

‘I’m sorry, Fergus, I shouldn’t tease you.’ She laughed huskily, reaching out to touch his hand briefly in apology. ‘I’m a fashion designer.’

At last, he knew something about her other than her name! Not much, admittedly, but it was a start.

‘Did you design the dress you’re wearing tonight?’ he prompted interestedly.

‘Of course,’ she dismissed, smiling up at the waiter as he brought, and poured, her water.

Of course…

In that case, her designs were excellent; the dress looked wonderful on her, suited her slender delicacy perfectly.

‘Who do you work for?’ he asked lightly, feeling the ice was breaking between them at last. In the circumstances, it shouldn’t have been there in the first place!

Chloe sipped her water before answering. ‘Myself,’ she replied. ‘But what about you, are you—?’

‘You mean you’re a freelance designer?’ Fergus cut determinedly over what he guessed was going to be a deliberate change of subject on Chloe’s part. Away from herself!

‘Not exactly,’ she answered noncommittally. ‘Shall we look at the menus?’ she said with a smile. ‘I’m absolutely starving!’

She was changing the subject, damn it. Although he couldn’t argue with the necessity of choosing their food; he had gone past starving himself and was now onto ravenous!

But if Chloe thought by looking at the menus and choosing their food he was going to let go of the only thing he had actually found out about her so far, then she was mistaken!

Chloe studied him surreptitiously from behind the shield of her menu. He had hidden it well, but she knew he had been absolutely furious when she’d actually arrived here this evening. Not surprising, really; she had been almost twenty minutes late. Deliberately so.

One thing she had learnt about Fergus McCloud in the last few weeks: a simpering sycophant was not going to hold his interest for more than two minutes!

He was a man who had avoided a serious relationship, let alone matrimony, for at least the last fifteen years. Any woman who wanted to hold this man’s interest for more than a couple of dates would have to be unusual, to say the least.

Although Chloe wasn’t sure, as she saw that tightness about his mouth, the angry glitter in those warm brown eyes, that she hadn’t gone too far. The last thing she wanted to happen was for Fergus not to even like her!

Because, strangely enough, she could all too easily like him…

He was interesting. Intelligent. Fun. His good looks unmistakable. And there had been something boyishly attractive, endearingly so, about his protectiveness towards her when his cousin Brice had arrived at the house last Sunday morning and found them there together…

Under any other circumstances, she was sure she would like Fergus McCloud very much indeed.

Again it was ‘under other circumstances’…

She put her menu down on the table, smiling across at Fergus as he looked across at her enquiringly. She was right; he had started to feel wary of her. And that wasn’t the idea at all!

‘Actually, Fergus, I have my own label, sell my clothes to several well-known couturier shops,’ she told him brightly.

‘Very exclusive,’ he guessed.

‘Very,’ she confirmed.

‘And very expensive?’ he drawled.

She laughed again softly. ‘Of course.’

He relaxed slightly, obviously having just been given the answer to several more questions that he had concerning her; how she afforded her sports car and how she was so obviously at ease in these surroundings, to name but two. However, Chloe easily sensed that there were a lot more questions Fergus wanted answers to than those…

‘What’s the label called?’ he prompted casually, putting his own menu down to give her his full attention.

Her mouth quirked. ‘Would you believe, “Foxy”?’ Not much help there!

Fergus gave a rueful smile. ‘I’d believe,’ he acknowledged. ‘How come you and I have never met before, Chloe Fox? That I have never even heard your name mentioned before?’

Because until a year ago she hadn’t lived in London all year round, had been at boarding-school in the south of England for years, before going on to university, and then she had spent a year in Paris with one of the top designers there. And in the last year she had been too busy getting her business off the ground to feature too much on the social scene.

There was also the fact that she hadn’t been a hundred-per-cent honest concerning her name.

She shrugged. ‘Just bad luck, I suppose,’ she answered.

Fergus grinned. ‘Yours or mine?’

‘Both, of course,’ Chloe returned. ‘It would be very rude of me to say anything else.’

‘You don’t like to be rude. And you always try to do what you say you will,’ Fergus murmured thoughtfully.

This man was making an inventory on what he slowly learnt about her! Not a good development.

‘You might also like to know that I like to be fed at least twice a day,’ she went on. ‘And as I only had time for a quick breakfast this morning, and no lunch…’ she added pointedly.

‘You would like to eat now.’ Fergus nodded, signalling to the waiter that they were ready to order.

Chloe studied him while the waiter noted their choices. Fergus’s good looks weren’t in doubt. Nor were his wealth or charm. But she would do well to remember not to underestimate his intelligence; Fergus was more than capable of adding two and two together and coming up with the correct answer of four. Maybe not tonight. But it wouldn’t take too much probing on his part to discover exactly who the designer ‘Foxy’ was.

Telling him about that had been a calculated risk, but one she had deemed necessary in the face of his wariness. She wanted to keep his interest, but she wasn’t going to get anywhere with him at all if she made herself too mysterious. And she still had a long way to go with this man if she were to achieve her objective.

‘So tell me,’ she said conversationally as the two of them enjoyed their starters, melon and strawberries in Chloe’s case, and moules marinière in Fergus’s, ‘why didn’t you want us to eat at your uncle’s restaurant this evening?’

Fergus seemed to almost choke over the mussel he had just spooned into his mouth, looking across at her frowningly.

Chloe eyed him speculatively. ‘Sorry—was I mistaken?’ But she knew she wasn’t, knew Fergus had been horrified at her suggestion that the two of them meet at Chef Simon this evening.

‘Not at all,’ he replied slowly. ‘And the answer is simple, Chloe; I wanted to get to know you without any family distractions.’

There was a word for smooth flattery like this—but Chloe was too ladylike to even think it!

‘How nice,’ she returned as insincerely.

‘I thought so,’ Fergus replied. ‘I’m sure you’ll agree, there’s still a lot we don’t know about each other?’

What he really meant was there was a lot he still didn’t know about her! Although he was obviously hoping to change all that tonight. If Chloe had anything to do with it, he was going to be out of luck!

She smiled across at him. ‘What’s the saying? “Finding out is half the fun”?’

‘Probably,’ he acknowledged dryly, not looking in the least convinced of the sentiment. ‘I—’

‘Chloe! It is Chloe, isn’t it…?’ the voice added less certainly.

Chloe’s air of flirtation immediately deserted her as she looked up and easily recognised the man who had stopped beside their table.

Peter Ambrose!

It wasn’t surprising that, having initially believed he recognised her, on closer inspection he was less sure; she had been fifteen years old the last time he’d seen her!

She swallowed hard, deliberately not looking at Fergus now; a previous brief glance his way had told her that he was stunned at the identity of the other man.

Which wasn’t surprising! Until three years ago Peter Ambrose had been the British Prime Minister. Even now, he was still the Leader of the Opposition. And he obviously knew Chloe well enough to call her by her first name!

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