“I want you, Jane—”

She pulled sharply away from him. “You can’t have me, Gabe,” she told him dully. “Because I don’t want you. I realize it must be difficult for the eligible Gabriel Vaughan to accept that a woman may not want him—”

“Cut the insults, Jane,” he put in scathingly. “I heard what you said the first time around! What is it about you, Jane?” he added. “I’ve wanted you from the first moment I set eyes on you!”

CAROLE MORTIMER was born in England, the youngest of three children. She started writing in 1978, and has now written over 100 books for Harlequin Presents®.

Carole has four sons—Matthew, Joshua, Timothy and Peter—who keep her on her toes. She is very happily married to Peter, Sr. They live on the Isle of Man.

A Yuletide Seduction
Carole Mortimer

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 ONE

GOLD.

Bright, shiny, tarnished gold.

She didn’t want to touch it any more than she needed to, didn’t want it touching her either, the metal seeming to burn her flesh where it nestled on her left hand.

She pulled the gold from her finger. It wasn’t difficult to do. She was so much slimmer than when the ring had first been placed on her finger. In fact, the ring had become so loose that it had spun loosely against her skin, only her knuckles stopping it from falling off by itself.

How she wished it had fallen off, fallen to the ground, never to be seen again. She should have pulled it off, wrenched it from her finger, weeks ago, months ago, but she had been consumed with other things. This tiny scrap of gold lying in the palm of her hand hadn’t seemed important then.

But it was important now. It was the only physical reminder she had that she had ever—ever—

Her fingers closed around the small ring of metal, so tightly that her nails dug into her flesh, breaking through the skin. But she was immune to the pain. She even welcomed it. Because that slight stinging sensation in her hand, the show of blood, told her that she, at least, was still real. Everything around her seemed to have crumbled and fallen apart, until there was nothing left. She was the only reality, it seemed.

And this ring.

She unclenched her fingers, staring down at the ring, fighting back the memories just the sight of it evoked. Lies. All lies! And now he was dead, as dead as their marriage had been.

Oh, God, no! She wouldn’t cry. Never that. Not again. Not ever again!

She quickly blinked back those tears before they could fall. Remember. She had to remember, to keep on remembering, before she would be allowed to forget! If she ever did…

But first she had to get rid of this ring. She never wanted it near her again, never wanted to set eyes on it again, or for anyone else to do so either.

Her fingers curled around it again, but lightly this time, and she lifted up her arm, swung it back as far as it would go, before launching it forward again. And as she did so she threw the ring as far as it would go, as far away from her as she could make it fly, watching as it spun through the air in what seemed like slow motion, making hardly a ripple in the water as it was swallowed up by the swiftly running river in front of her, falling down, to be sucked in by the mud and slime at the bottom of the river.

It took her several breath-holding seconds to realise it had gone. Finally. Irrevocably. And with its falling came release, freedom, a freedom she hadn’t known for such a long, long time.

But freedom to do what…?

CHAPTER TWO

‘TAKE the cups through to—’ Jane abruptly broke off her calm instruction as one of those cups landed with a crash on the kitchen floor, its delicate china breaking into a dozen pieces. The three women in the room stared down at it, with the one who had dropped it looking absolutely horrified at what she had done.

‘Oh, Jane, I’m so sorry.’ Paula groaned her dismay. ‘I don’t know what happened. I’ll pay for it, of course. I—’

‘Don’t be silly, Paula,’ Jane dismissed, still calmly.

Once upon a time—and not so long ago—an accident like this would have sent Jane into a panic, the money she would have to pay for the replacement cup cutting deeply into the profit she would make from catering a private dinner party. But those days were gone now, thank goodness. Now she could afford the odd loss without considering it a disaster. Besides, if this evening was the success Felicity Warner hoped it would be, then Jane doubted the other woman would be too concerned that one of the coffee cups in her twelve-place-setting dinner service had met with an accident.

‘Take the cups through.’ Jane replaced the broken cup, putting it carefully beside the other seven already on the tray. ‘Rosemary will bring the coffee. I’ll clear away the broken cup.’ She gave Paula’s arm a reassuring squeeze before the two women left the high-tech kitchen to serve coffee to the Warners and their six dinner guests.

Jane almost laughed at herself as she bent down, dustpan and brush in her hand. In the last two years since she’d first begun this exclusive catering service to the rich and influential, she had moved from a one-woman band to being able to employ people like Paula and Rosemary to help with the serving, at least. But, nonetheless, she was back down on her hands and knees sweeping up! Some things just never changed!

‘My dear Jane, I just had to— Darling…?’ Felicity Warner herself had come out to the kitchen, coming to an abrupt halt as she spotted Jane on the floor behind the breakfast-bar. ‘What on earth—?’

Jane straightened, holding out the dustpan containing the broken cup. ‘You’ll be reimbursed, of course—’

‘Don’t give it another thought, darling,’ her employer for the evening dismissed uninterestedly, the affectation sounding perfectly natural coming from this elegantly beautiful woman, slim in her short, figure-hugging dress, long red hair loose about her shoulders, beautiful face alight with pleasure. ‘After this evening I’m hoping to be able to buy a whole new dinner service and throw this old thing away!’

‘This old thing’ was a delicate china dinner service that would have cost thousands to buy rather than hundreds! ‘It’s been a success, then?’ Jane queried politely as she disposed of the broken cup, her movements as measured and controlled as they usually were.

‘A success!’ Felicity laughed happily, clapping her hands together in pleasure. ‘My dear Jane, after the wonderful meal you’ve served us this evening, Richard is likely to divorce me and marry you!’

Jane’s professional smile didn’t waver for a second, although inwardly the mere thought of being married to anyone, even someone as nice as Richard Warner appeared to be, filled her with revulsion. Although she knew Felicity was only joking; her husband obviously adored her and their two young daughters.

But she was pleased the evening seemed to be working out for this friendly couple. Cooking this evening’s meal for the Warners had been a last-minute arrangement, aided by the fact that Jane had had a cancellation in her busy diary. And, from what Felicity had told her this afternoon, the last few months had been difficult ones for her husband’s business. The couple could certainly do with a little good luck for a change!

Although it was the first time Jane had actually cooked for Felicity, she had found the other woman warm and friendly; in fact, the other woman had been chattering away to her all afternoon. Some of it through nervousness concerning the success of this evening, Jane was sure, and so she had just let Felicity talk as she continued to work.

Every morsel of food that had appeared on the table this evening had been personally prepared by Jane herself, even down to the chocolates now being served with the coffee, meaning that she’d spent a considerable time at her client’s home before the meal was due to begin. Felicity, aware of how important this evening was—to her husband, to the whole family—had followed Jane about the kitchen most of the afternoon, talking endlessly. So much so that Jane now felt she knew the family—and their problems—intimately. Felicity obviously felt the same way!

‘Nothing has actually been said, of course,’ Felicity continued excitedly. ‘But Gabe has asked to meet Richard at his office tomorrow morning, so that they can “talk”.’ She smiled her pleasure at this development. ‘A vast improvement on just buying Richard out and to hell with him! And I’m sure it’s your wonderful meal that’s mellowed him and tipped the balance!’ She grinned conspiratorially. ‘He told me he doesn’t usually eat dessert, but I persuaded him to just try a little of your wonderful white chocolate mousse—and there wasn’t a word out of him while he ate every mouthful! He was so relaxed by the time he had eaten it that he readily agreed to talk with Richard in the morning!’ she concluded gleefully.

So it wasn’t the other man who had actually asked for the meeting, but Richard Warner who had instigated it. Oh, well, a little poetic licence was allowed on the other woman’s part in the circumstances. Felicity’s husband ran and owned an ailing computer company, and, from what Felicity had told Jane, this man Gabe was a shark: a great white, who ate up his own species as well as other fish, without thought or conscience for the devastation he left behind him. The fact that he had agreed to have dinner with them at all had, according to Felicity, been more than she had ever hoped for.

The man sounded like a first-class bastard to Jane, not a man anyone would particularly want to do business with. But the Warners didn’t seem to have any choice in the matter!

‘I’m really pleased for you, Felicity,’ she told the other woman warmly. ‘But shouldn’t you be returning to your guests…?’ And then Jane could begin the unenviable task of clearing away. She never left a home without first doing this; it was part of the service that none of the mess from her catering would be left for the client to clean up. Paula and Rosemary would leave as soon as they had served coffee, but Jane would be here until the end of the evening.

But she didn’t mind that. She would work an eighteen-hour day, as she had done a lot at the beginning, as long as she was independent. Free…

‘Heavens, yes.’ Felicity giggled now at her own social gaffe. ‘I was just so thrilled, I had to come and tell you. I’ll talk to you again later.’ She gave Jane’s arm a grateful squeeze before hurrying back to rejoin her guests in the dining-room, leaving a trail of the aroma of her expensive perfume behind her.

Jane shook her head ruefully, turning her attention to the dessert dishes. Under other circumstances, she and Felicity might have become friends. As it was, no matter how friendly they might have become today, Jane knew she would leave here this evening and not see Felicity again until—or if—the other woman needed her professional services again.

She readily admitted that it was a strange life she had chosen for herself. Her refined speech and obvious education—an education that had included, thank goodness, a cordon bleu cookery course—set her apart from many people, and yet the fact that she was an employee of Felicity’s, despite being the owner of the business, meant she didn’t ‘belong’ in that set of people, either.

A strange life, yes, but it was one that gave her great satisfaction. Although occasionally it was a lonely life.

‘—really is an absolute treasure,’ Felicity could be heard gushing out in the hallway. ‘I don’t know why she doesn’t open up her own restaurant; there’s no doubting it would be all the rage.’ Her voice became louder as she entered the kitchen. ‘Jane, I’ve brought someone to meet you,’ she announced happily, a thread of excitement underlying her voice. ‘I think he’s fallen in love with your cooking,’ she added flirtatiously.

There was no warning. No sign. No alarm bells. Nothing to tell Jane that her life was about to be turned upside down for the second time in three years!

She picked up the towel to dry her hands before turning, fixing a smile on her lips as she did so, only to have that smile freeze into place as she looked at the man Felicity had brought into the kitchen to meet her.

No!

Not him!

It couldn’t be!

She was successful. Independent. Free.

It couldn’t be him. She couldn’t bear it. Not when she had worked so hard. ‘This is Gabriel Vaughan, Jane.’ Felicity introduced him innocently. ‘Gabe, our wonderful cook for the evening, Jane Smith.’ She beamed at the two of them.

The Gabe Felicity had been chattering on about all afternoon had been Gabriel Vaughan? The Gabriel Vaughan?

Of course it was—he was standing across the kitchen from where Jane stood as if she had been turned to stone. He was older, of course—but then, so was she!—but the granite-like features of his face still looked as if they had been hewn from solid rock, despite the fact that he was smiling at her.

Smiling at her? It was the last thing he would be doing if he had recognised her in return!

‘Jane Smith,’ he greeted in a voice that perfectly matched the unyielding hardness of him.

He would be thirty-nine now. His dark hair was slightly overlong, easily brushing the collar of his dinner jacket, and he had a firmly set jaw, sculptured lips, a long, aristocratic nose jutting out arrogantly beneath the only redeeming feature in that hard face—eyes so blue they were almost aquamarine, like the clear, warm sea Jane had once swum in off the Bahamas, long, long ago.

‘Or may I call you Jane?’ he added charmingly, his American accent softening that harshness.

The black evening suit and snowy white shirt that Gabriel Vaughan wore with such disregard for their elegance did little to hide the power of the body beneath. His wide shoulders rippled with muscle; his height, at least six feet four inches, meant that he would easily tower over most men he would meet. At only five feet two inches tall herself, Jane had to bend her neck backwards to look up into that harshly carved face, a face that seemed to have become grimmer in the last few years, despite the fact that he was directing a charming smile in her direction at this moment.

Oh, Paul, Jane cried inwardly, how could you ever have thought to come up against this man and win?

But then, Paul hadn’t won, had he? she acknowledged dully. No one ever had against Gabe, if the past newspaper reports about this man were to be believed. In fact, now that she knew who Felicity and Richard Warner were dealing with, she believed Felicity might be rather premature in her earlier feelings of celebration!

‘Jane will be fine,’ she answered him in the soft, calm voice she had learnt to use in every contingency over the last three years—although she was inwardly surprised she had managed to do so on this occasion!

This was Gabriel Vaughan she was talking to, the man who had ripped through the fabric of her life as if he were a tornado. She was damn sure he had never looked back to see what destruction he had left behind him!

‘I’m pleased you enjoyed your meal, Mr Vaughan,’ she added dismissively, hoping he would now return to the dining-room with his hostess. Outwardly she might appear calm, but her legs were already starting to shake, and it was only a matter of time before they would no longer support her!

He gave an inclination of his head, the overhead light making his dark hair almost appear black, although there were touches of grey now visible amongst that darkness. ‘Your husband is a very lucky man,’ he drawled softly.

Questioningly, it seemed to Jane. She resisted the impulse to glance down at her now bare left hand, knowing that not even an indentation now remained to show she had once worn a gold band there. ‘I’m not married, Mr Vaughan,’ she returned distantly.

He looked at her steadily for long, timeless seconds, taking in everything about her as he did so. And Jane was aware of everything he would see: nondescript brown hair restrained from her face with a black velvet band at her nape, pale, make-upless features dominated by huge brown eyes, her figure obviously slender, but her businesslike cream blouse and black skirt doing nothing to emphasise her shapeliness.

What Jane didn’t see when she looked at her own reflection in the mirror—and would have been horrified if she had!—were the red highlights in the abundance of the shoulder-length hair she was at such pains to keep confined, or the stark contrast between that dark curling hair and the pale magnolia of her face, those huge brown eyes often taking on the same deep sherry colour of her hair. Her nose was small, her mouth having a sensual fullness she could do little to hide—despite not wearing lipgloss. In fact, she deliberately wore no make-up, but her face was peaches and cream anyway, adding to the hugeness of her captivating brown eyes. And, for all she believed her clothes to be businesslike, the cream blouse was a perfect foil for her colouring, and the knee-length of her skirt could do little to hide the curvaceousness of her long, silky legs.

‘May I say,’ Gabriel Vaughan murmured huskily, his bright blue gaze easily holding hers, ‘that fact is to one poor man’s detriment—and every other man’s delight?’

‘My dear Gabe,’ Felicity teased, ‘I do believe you’re flirting with Jane.’ She was obviously deeply amused by the fact.

He gave the other woman a mocking glance. ‘My dear Felicity,’ he drawled dryly, ‘I do believe I am!’ He turned back challengingly to Jane.

Flirting? With her? Impossible. If only he knew—

But he didn’t know. He didn’t recognise her. There was no way he would be looking at her with such warm admiration if he did!

Was she so changed? Facially, more mature, yes. But the main change, she readily accepted, was in her hair. Deliberately so. Once her hair had reached down to her waist, a straight curtain the golden colour of ripe corn—a stark contrast to the shoulder-length chestnut-brown it now was. She had been amazed herself at the difference the change of colour and style made to her whole appearance, seeming to change even the shape of her face. And eyes she had always believed were just brown had taken on the rich colour of her hair, the pale skin that was natural to her blonde hair becoming magnolia against the rich chestnut.

Yes, she had changed, and deliberately so, but until this moment, with Gabriel Vaughan looking at her with a complete lack of recognition, she hadn’t realised just how successful she had been in effecting that change!

‘Mr Vaughan…’ She finally found her voice to answer him, her shocked surprise under control, if not eliminated. She was Jane Smith, personal chef to the beautiful and affluent, and this man was just another guest at one of those dinner parties she catered for. He shouldn’t even be out here in the kitchen! ‘I do believe—’ she spoke slowly but firmly ‘—that you’re wasting your time!’

His smile didn’t waver for a second, but that brilliant blue gaze sharpened with interest. ‘My dear Jane—’ he lingered over the deliberate use of her first name, well aware of her own formality ‘—I make a point of never doing that.’

Outwardly she again remained calm, but inwardly she felt a shiver of apprehension down her spine. And it was a feeling she hadn’t known for three years…

‘Now, Gabe,’ Felicity cut in laughingly, linking her arm through his, ‘I can’t have you upsetting Jane,’ she scolded lightly. ‘Let’s go back to the dining-room and have a liqueur, and let’s leave poor Jane in peace.’ She slanted an apologetic smile towards Jane. ‘I’m sure she would like to get home some time before morning. Come on, Gabe,’ she encouraged firmly as he still made no effort to move. ‘Or Richard will think we’ve run away together!’

Gabriel Vaughan didn’t join in her throaty laughter. ‘Richard need have no worries like that on my account. You’re a beautiful woman, Felicity,’ he added to take the sting out of his initial remark, ‘but other men’s wives have never held any appeal for me.’

Jane drew in a sharp breath, swallowing hard. Because she knew the reason ‘other men’s wives never held any appeal’ for Gabriel Vaughan. Oh, yes, she knew only too well.

‘I’m sure Richard will be pleased to hear that,’ Jane dismissed with a calmness that had now become second nature to her. ‘But Felicity is quite right; I do still have a lot to do. And your coffee will be going cold.’ She turned to smile at Paula and Rosemary as they returned from serving coffee and liqueurs. Their timing couldn’t have been more perfect!

She willed Gabriel Vaughan to leave the kitchen now, before her calm shattered and her legs collapsed beneath her.

She had believed she had succeeded in pushing the past to the back of her mind, but at this moment she had a vivid image of three years ago when her own photograph had appeared side by side with this man’s for days on end in all the national newspapers.

She had wanted to run away and hide then, and to all intents and purposes she had done so. And although he wasn’t aware of it—and she hoped he never would be—the man who had once haunted her every nightmare, waking as well as asleep, had finally caught up with her!

He was still watching her, that intent blue gaze unwavering, despite the urgings of his hostess to return to the dining-room. His behaviour, Jane knew, was bordering on rudeness, but, as she was also aware, he was very conscious of the fact that he had the upper hand here this evening. In the process of buying out Richard Warner’s ailing company, backed up by the millions of pounds that was his own personal fortune, he had no reason to do any other than what he pleased. And at this particular moment he wanted to look at Jane…!

Finally—when Jane was on the point of wondering just how much longer she could withstand that stare!—he visibly relaxed, smiling that lazily charming smile, his eyes once more that brilliant shining aqua. ‘It was a pleasure meeting you, Jane Smith,’ he murmured huskily, holding out his hand to her in parting.

Paula and Rosemary, after one wide-eyed glance in her direction at finding their hostess and one of her guests in the kitchen chatting away to Jane, had busied themselves washing up the dessert dishes Jane hadn’t been able to deal with because of the interruption. And Felicity was smiling happily, still filled with what she considered the success of the evening. Only Jane, it seemed, was aware that she viewed that hand being held out to her—a long, ringless hand, filled with strength—as if it were a viper about to strike!

‘Thank you,’ she returned coolly, not about to return the pleasantry. If there were any ‘pleasure’ attached to this meeting then it was definitely all on his side!

But she knew she had no choice but to shake the hand held out to her. Not to do so would be inexplicable. At least, to everyone else in the room. She knew exactly why she didn’t want to touch this man—his hand or any other part of him. And if he knew, if he realised, he wouldn’t be holding out that hand of friendship either!

His hand was cool and dry, his grip firm. Not that Jane gave him much chance to do the latter, her hand against his only fleetingly.

Those startling blue eyes narrowed once again, his hand falling lightly to his side. ‘Perhaps we’ll meet again,’ he said huskily.

‘Perhaps,’ she nodded noncommittally.

And perhaps they wouldn’t! She had managed to get through three years without bumping into this man, and if she had her way it would be another three years—or longer!—before it happened again. And as Gabriel Vaughan spent most of his time in his native America, with only the occasional swim into English waters in his search for fresh prey, that shouldn’t be too difficult to achieve!

‘I should be in England for several months.’ He seemed to read at least some of her thoughts, instantly squashing them. ‘In fact,’ he added softly, ‘I’ve rented an apartment for three months; I can’t stand the impersonality of hotels.’

Three months! They could be as long, or short, as he made them!

‘I hope you enjoy your stay,’ she returned dismissively, turning away now, no longer able to even look at him. She needed to sit down, her legs shaking very badly now. Why didn’t he just go?

She moved to put the clean dessert dishes back on the pine dresser across the room, and by the time she turned back again, he had gone.

Jane swayed weakly on her feet, moving to sit heavily on one of the pine chairs that stood around the kitchen table. In reality, Gabriel Vaughan could only have been in the kitchen a matter of minutes—it just seemed much, much longer!

‘Gosh, he was handsome, wasn’t he?’ Rosemary sighed longingly as she finished drying her hands, seeming unaware of Jane’s distress.

Handsome? She supposed he was. She just had more reason to fear him—fear him realising who she was—than she had to find him attractive. Although it was obvious from Paula’s appreciative grin that she too had found Gabriel Vaughan ‘handsome’.

‘Looks are only skin-deep,’ Jane dismissed sharply, feeling her strength slowly returning. ‘And underneath those trappings of civilisation—’ there was no denying how dazzlingly attractive Gabriel Vaughan had looked in his dinner suit, or the charm of his manner ‘—Gabriel Vaughan is a piranha!’

Paula made a face at her vehemence. ‘He seemed rather taken with you,’ she said speculatively.

Jane gave a derisive smile. ‘Men like him are not “taken” with the hired help! Now, it’s time you two went off home to your husbands,’ she added teasingly as she stood up. ‘I can deal with what’s left here.’

In fact, she was glad of the time alone once the two women had left for home. She could almost convince herself, as she pottered about the kitchen putting dishes away, that everything was once again back to normal, that the encounter with Gabriel Vaughan had never happened. Almost…

But there was absolutely no reason for their paths to cross again. Lightning really didn’t strike twice in the same place, did it? Of course it didn’t! Just as having Gabriel Vaughan enter her life once again wouldn’t happen…

Everything was cleared away, the last guest having taken their leave, when Felicity came back into the kitchen half an hour later. And she looked so happy, so vastly different from the worried woman Jane had spent the afternoon with, that Jane didn’t have the heart to tell her of her earlier misgivings about the evening having been quite the success Felicity obviously considered it had been. The other woman would no doubt find that out for herself soon enough. After Gabriel Vaughan’s meeting with Richard, no doubt!

‘I can’t thank you enough, Jane.’ She smiled, looking tired, the evening obviously having been more of a strain than it had earlier appeared. ‘I don’t know how I would have managed without you.’

‘You would have been just fine,’ Jane said with certainty; Richard Warner obviously had a treasure in his young wife.

‘I’m not so sure.’ The other woman grimaced. ‘But tomorrow will tell if it was all worth it!’

It certainly would! And Jane really hoped this nice couple weren’t in for a deep disappointment. Although, given what she knew of Gabriel Vaughan, it didn’t auger well…

Felicity yawned tiredly. ‘I think I’ll go up to bed. Richard’s just bringing through the last of the glasses. But leave them, Jane,’ she insisted firmly. ‘You must be much more tired than I am—and I’m staggering!’ She walked to the kitchen door. ‘Please go home, Jane,’ she added with another yawn, turning before leaving the room. ‘By the way, you made a definite hit this evening.’ She raised auburn brows pointedly. ‘Gabe was very interested.’

Jane forced herself to once again remain outwardly composed, revealing none of her inner panic. ‘How interested?’ she drawled lightly.

‘Very.’ Felicity smiled knowingly. ‘I shouldn’t be at all surprised if you and he meet again.’

She drew her breath in sharply. ‘And what makes you think that?’ she prompted tautly, still managing to keep a tight control over her nerves. Although it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so, the longer they discussed Gabriel Vaughan!

Surely he hadn’t continued to be curious about her once he and Felicity had returned to the dinner party? There had been two other couples present, and Richard’s recently divorced sister had been included to make up the eight; and Jane certainly didn’t think any of them would have been interested in listening to a conversation about the caterer!

‘Well, he— Ah, Richard,’ Felicity moved aside so that her husband could enter the kitchen to put down the glasses. ‘I was just telling Jane that I’m sure she and Gabe are going to meet again,’ she said archly.

Richard shot an affectionate smile at his wife. He was in his early thirties, tall and blond, with young Robert Redford good looks, and had a perfect partner in his vivacious wife. ‘Stop your matchmaking, darling. I’m sure Jane and Gabe are more than capable of making their own arrangements. If necessary,’ he added with a rueful glance at Jane.

‘It never hurts to give these things a helping hand.’ Felicity gave another tired yawn.

‘Will you please go to bed, Fliss?’ her husband said firmly. ‘I’ll just see Jane out, and then I’ll join you,’ he promised.

And Jane wanted to leave; of that there was no doubt. But she had felt a chill inside her at Felicity’s last statement. What had the other woman done to give a ‘helping hand’?

‘Okay,’ Felicity concurred sleepily. ‘And I do thank you so much for doing this for us at such short notice, Jane. You’ve been wonderful!’

‘My pleasure,’ she dismissed lightly. ‘But I can’t help but feel curious as to why you should think Mr Vaughan and myself will meet again,’ she persisted.

‘Because he asked for your business card, darling,’ the other woman supplied happily. ‘He said it was so that he could call you when he gave his next dinner party, but I have a feeling you’ll hear from him much sooner than that! Don’t be too long, darling.’ She smiled glowingly at her husband before finally going upstairs to their bedroom.

‘I’m sorry about all that nonsense, Jane,’ Richard said distractedly, running agitated fingers through the thickness of his blond hair. ‘Fliss has been so worried these last few weeks, and that isn’t good for her in early pregnancy. But take it from me: Gabe Vaughan is the last man you should become involved with,’ he added grimly. ‘He would gobble you up and spit you out again before you had a chance to say no!’

Gabriel Vaughan was the last man she ever would become involved with!

She had been frozen into immobility since Felicity’s announcement of having given Gabriel Vaughan her business card, but she moved now, hurriedly putting on her jacket. ‘I didn’t realise Felicity was pregnant,’ she said slowly. The other woman was so slim and elegant, the pregnancy certainly couldn’t be very far along yet, and Felicity hadn’t mentioned it. She had no doubt this happily married couple were pleased about the baby, but at the same time she realised it had probably happened at a bad time for them, what with the uncertainty about Richard’s business.

‘Only just.’ Richard gave what looked like a strained smile. ‘Felicity is longing to give me a son. Although at this rate there will be no business for him to grow up and take over!’ he added bleakly. He shook his head self-derisively. ‘Much as I also appreciate all that you’ve done this evening, Jane, unlike Felicity I think it’s going to take a little more than an exceptional meal to convince Gabriel Vaughan that my company is worth saving rather than being gathered up into his vast, faceless business pool!’

Jane was inclined to agree with him. From what she knew of the ruthless American, he wasn’t into ‘saving’ companies, only taking them over completely!

She certainly didn’t envy Richard Warner his meeting with the older man tomorrow!

She reached out to squeeze his arm understandingly. ‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,’ she told him softly before straightening. ‘Now I have to be on my way—and I think you should go upstairs and give your lovely wife a hug! There’s a lot to be said for having a loyal wife and a beautiful family like you have, you know,’ she added gently, having no doubts that Felicity would stand by her husband, no matter what the outcome of his meeting with Gabriel Vaughan.

Richard looked at her blankly for several seconds, and then he laughed softly. ‘How right you are, Jane,’ he agreed lightly. ‘How right you are!’

She was well aware that it sometimes took someone outside the situation to remind one of how fortunate one was. And, no matter what happened tomorrow, this man would still have his beautiful wife and daughters, and their unborn child. And that was certainly a lot more than very many other people had.

And sometimes, Jane remembered bleakly as she left the house, all the positive things you thought you had in your life could be wiped out or simply taken away from you And a prime example of that had been this evening when Gabriel Vaughan had turned out to be the guest of honour at the Warners’ dinner party! She had worked so hard to build up this business, to build something for herself—she would not allow it all to be wiped out a second time!

It had not been a good evening for Jane. First that broken cup—which she would replace, despite Felicity’s protests that it wasn’t necessary—then Gabriel Vaughan coming into the kitchen: the very last man she’d ever wanted to see again! Ever! And Felicity, poor romantic Felicity, had given him Jane’s business card!

What else could possibly go wrong tonight?

She found that out a few minutes later—when her van wouldn’t start!

CHAPTER THREE

JANE almost choked over her morning mug of coffee! As it was, her hand shook so badly that she spilt some of that coffee onto the newspaper that lay open on the breakfast-bar in front of her, the liquid splashing onto the smiling countenance of the man’s face that had caused her to choke in the first place!

Gabriel Vaughan!

But then, nothing seemed to have gone right for her since meeting the man the evening before. It had been past one o’clock in the morning when she’d discovered her van wouldn’t start, and a glance towards the Warners’ house had shown her that it was in darkness. And, in the circumstances, Jane had been loath to disturb the already troubled couple. Besides, she had decided, if Richard Warner had any sense, he would be making love to his wife at this very moment—and she certainly had no inclination to interrupt that!

But it had been too late to contact a garage, and there had been no taxis cruising by in the exclusive suburb, and finding a public telephone to call for a taxi hadn’t proved all that easy to do, either. And when she’d come to leave the call box after making the call it was to find it had begun to rain. Not gentle, barely discernible rain, but torrents of it, as if the sky itself had opened up and dropped the deluge.

Tired, wet and extremely disgruntled, she had finally arrived back at her apartment at almost two-thirty in the morning. And opening her newspapers at nine o’clock the following morning, and being confronted by a photograph of a smiling Gabriel Vaughan, was positively the last thing she needed!

This was the time of day when she allowed herself a few hours’ relaxation. First she would go for her morning run, collecting her newspaper, and freshly baked croissants from her favourite patisserie on the way back. She had made a career out of cooking for other people, but she wasn’t averse to sampling—and enjoying—other people’s cooking in the privacy of her own home. And François’s croissants, liberally spread with butter and honey, melted in the mouth.

But not this morning. She hadn’t even got as far as taking her first mouthful, and now she had totally lost her appetite. And all because of Gabriel Vaughan!

She would never see him again, she had assured herself in the park earlier as her feet pounded on the pathway as she ran, slender in her running shorts and sweatshirt, her hair tied back with a black ribbon. As far as she was aware, the man had only paid brief visits to England over the last three years, and just because he had rented an apartment for three months that didn’t mean he would actually stay that long. Once his business with Richard Warner had reached a suitable conclusion—to Gabriel Vaughan’s benefit, of course!—he would no doubt be returning to America. And staying there, Jane hoped!

But this photograph in this morning’s newspaper—of Gabriel with a dazzling blonde clinging to his arm—had been taken while at a weekend party given by a popular politician. It seemed to imply that his rare visits to this country in recent years had in no way affected his social popularity when he was here.

Jane stood up impatiently, her relaxation totally ruined for this morning. Damn the man! He had helped ruin her life once—she couldn’t allow him to do it again, not when she had worked so hard to make a life and career for Jane Smith.

Jane Smith.

Yes, that was who she was now.

She drew in a deeply controlling breath, forcing back the panic and anger, bringing back the calm that had become such a necessary part of her for the last few years, reaching out as she did so to close the newspaper, not taking so much as another glance at the photograph that had so disturbed her minutes ago.

She had a job to do, another dinner party to arrange for this evening, and the first thing on her list of things to do was to check with the garage she had called earlier, and see if they had had any luck in starting her van. If it wasn’t yet fixed she would have to hire alternative transport for the next few days.

Yes, she had a business to run, and she intended running it!

Despite Gabriel Vaughan.

Or in spite of him!

‘Hell, I hate these damned things! If you’re there, Jane Smith, pick up the damned receiver!’

Jane reached out with trembling fingers and switched off the recorded messages on her answer machine, quickly, as if the machine itself were capable of doing her harm. Which, of course, it wasn’t. But the recorded message of that impatient male voice—even though the man hadn’t given his name but had slammed the receiver down when he received no reply to his impatience—was easily recognisable as being that of Gabriel Vaughan.

She had telephoned the garage before taking her shower, had been informed that it would be ready for collection in half an hours’ time, once they had replaced the old and worn battery. Then she’d showered quickly before switching on her answer machine as she usually did when she had to go out.

She had only been out of her apartment for an hour, but the flashing light on the answer machine had told her she had five messages. The first two had been innocuous enough—enquiries about bookings, which she would deal with before she went out to collect her supplies for this evening’s dinner party. But the third call—! He didn’t even need to say who it was—she could recognise that Transatlantic drawl anywhere!

It wasn’t even twelve hours since she had left the Warners’ home; the damned man had left no time at all before trying to contact her again!

What did he want?

Whatever it was, she wasn’t interested. Not on a personal or professional level. On a personal level, he was the last man she wanted anything to do with, and the same applied on a professional level. For the same reason. The less contact she had with Gabriel Vaughan—on any level—the better she would like it.

That decision made, she decided to totally ignore the call, pretend it never happened. After all, he hadn’t left a name or contact number, just those few words of angry impatience.

Having so decided, she reached out to switch the machine back on. After all, she had a business to run.

‘Jane! Oh, Jane…!’ There was a short pause in the fourth message, before the woman continued. ‘It’s Felicity Warner here. Give me a call as soon as you come in. Please!’ Felicity had sounded tearful enough at the beginning of the message, but that last word sounded like a pleading sob!

And Jane didn’t need two guesses as to why the other woman had sounded so different on the recording from the happily excited one she had left the evening before; no doubt Richard had been to his meeting with Gabriel Vaughan!

Maybe she should have tried to warn the other woman last night, after all, once she had realised who Richard was dealing with? But if she had done that Felicity would only have wanted to know how she knew so much about the man. And it had taken her almost three years to shake off the how and why she had ever known a man like Gabriel Vaughan.

But Felicity sounded desperately upset, so unhappy. Which really couldn’t be good for her in her condition—

‘Don’t you ever switch this damned thing off, Jane Smith?’ The fifth message began to play, Gabriel Vaughan’s voice sounding mockingly amused this time—and just as instantly recognisable to Jane as on the previous message. ‘Well, I refuse to talk to a machine,’ he continued dismissively. ‘I’ll try you again later.’ He rang off abruptly, again without actually saying who the caller had been.

But Jane was in no doubt whatsoever who the caller had been, remembered all too well from last night when he had called her ‘Jane Smith’ in that mocking drawl. Two calls in a hour! What did the man want?

Some time in the last hour—if Felicity’s cry for help was anything to go by—he had also spoken to Richard Warner!

The man was a machine. An automaton. He bought and sold, ruined people’s lives, without a thought for the consequences. And the consequences, in this case, could be Felicity’s pregnancy…!

Once again Jane switched off the answer machine. She didn’t want to get involved in this, not from any angle. And if she returned Felicity’s call she would become involved. If she wasn’t already!

She didn’t really know the Warners that well. She understood they had been guests at several other dinner parties she had catered for, which was why Felicity had telephoned her for the booking last night.

Over the years Jane had made a point of not getting too close to clients; she was employed by them, and so she never, ever made the mistake of thinking she was anything else. But somehow yesterday had been different. Felicity had obviously been deeply worried, had desperately needed someone she could talk to. And she had chosen Jane as that confidante, probably because she realised, with the delicacy of Jane’s position working in other people’s homes, that she had to be discreet, that the things Felicity talked to her about would go no further.

Jane never had been a gossip, but now there was a very good reason why what Felicity had told her would go no further: she simply had no one she could possibly tell!

Her life was a busy one, and she met lots of people in the course of her work, but friends, good friends, were something she had necessarily moved away from in recent years. It was an unspoken part of her contract that she never discussed the people she worked for, and Jane guarded her own privacy even more jealously!

Her life had taken a dramatic turn three years ago, but determination and hard work meant she now ran her own life, and her own business. Successfully.

That success meant she could afford to rent this apartment; it was completely open-plan, with polished wood floors, scatter rugs, antique furniture, and no television, because not only did she not have the time to watch it, but she didn’t like it either, her relaxation time spent listening to her extensive music collection, and reading the library of books that took up the whole of one wall. It was all completely, uniquely her own, and her idea of heaven on an evening off wasn’t to go out partying as she would once have done, but to sit and listen to one of her favourite classical music tapes while rereading one of her many books.

But somehow those last three messages on her answer machine seemed even to have invaded the peace and tranquillity of her home…

Much as she liked Felicity and felt sorry for the other woman, she simply couldn’t return that beseeching telephone call.

She just couldn’t…!

She was tired by the time she returned to her apartment at one o’clock the following morning. The dinner party had been a success, but the reason for her weariness was the disturbance in her personal life over the last twenty-four hours.

The answer machine was flashing repeatedly—one, two, three, four, five, six, she counted warily. How many of those calls would be from Gabriel Vaughan?

Or was she becoming paranoid? The man she had met the evening before did not look as if he had to chase after any woman, least of all one who cooked for other people for a living! And yet on the second of those last recorded messages he had said he would ‘try again later’!

Jane sighed. She was tired. It was late. And she wanted to go to bed. But would she be able to sleep, knowing that there were six messages on her machine that hadn’t been listened to?

Probably not, she conceded with impatient anger. She didn’t like this. Not one little bit. She deeply resented Gabriel Vaughan’s intrusion, but at the same time she was annoyed at her own reaction to it. She was not about to live in fear ever again. This was her home, damn it, her space, and Gabriel Vaughan was not welcome in it. He certainly wasn’t going to invade it.

She reached out and firmly pushed the ‘play’ button on the answermachine.

‘Hello, Jane, Richard Warner here. Felicity wanted me to call you. She’s been taken into hospital. The doctor thinks she may lose the baby. I—she—Thank you for all your help last night.’ The message came to an abrupt end, Richard Warner obviously not knowing what else to say.

Because there was nothing else to say, Jane realised numbly. What had Gabriel Vaughan said to Richard, what had he done, to have created such—?

No!

She couldn’t become involved. She dared not risk—dared not risk—She just didn’t dare!

But Felicity had called her earlier today, feeling that in some way she needed Jane. And, from Richard’s call just now, the other woman had been proved right! Could Jane now just ignore this call for help? Or was it already too late…?

She couldn’t change anything even if she did return Richard’s call. What could she do? She would be the last person Gabriel Vaughan would listen to—even if she reversed her own decision about never wanting to speak to him again.

But what about Felicity…?

It was almost one-thirty in the morning now—too late to call either Richard or the hospital; she doubted the nurses on duty at the latter would volunteer any information about Felicity, anyway. She would go to bed, get a good night’s sleep, and try calling Richard in the morning. Maybe Felicity’s condition would be a little more positive by then.

Or maybe it wouldn’t.

She absently listened to the rest of her messages, curious now about the other five calls.

They were all business calls, not a single one in the Transatlantic drawl she had quickly come to recognise—and dread—as being that of Gabriel Vaughan. And after those two calls this morning within an hour of each other his silence this evening did not reassure her. It unnerved her!

‘She’s—stable—that’s how the doctor described her condition to me this morning,’ Richard Warner told Jane in answer to her early morning telephone query about Felicity. ‘Whatever that means,’ he added disgustedly.

‘What happened, Richard?’ Jane prompted abruptly.

This call was against her better judgement; it came completely from the softness of emotions that she must never allow to rule her a second time. But she couldn’t, she had decided in the clear light of day, simply ignore Felicity’s and Richard’s telephone calls.

‘What do you think? Gabriel Vaughan is what happened!’ Richard told her bitterly—and predictably!

Gabriel Vaughan seemed to just sail through life, sweeping away anything and anyone who should happen to stand in his way. And at the moment Richard Warner was in his way. Tomorrow, next week, next month, it would be someone else completely, any consequences that might follow Gabe’s actions either ignored or simply unknown to him.

‘I would really rather not talk about it, Jane,’ Richard added agitatedly. ‘At the moment my company is in chaos, my wife is in hospital—and just talking about Gabriel Vaughan makes my blood-pressure rise! I’ll tell Felicity you rang,’ he added wearily. ‘And once again, thank you for all your help.’ He rang off.

And a lot of good her help had done them, Jane sighed as she replaced her own receiver. Gabriel Vaughan had happened—who else…? What else? He was a man totally without—

Jane almost fell off her chair as the telephone beside her began to ring. Eight-fifteen. It was only eight-fifteen in the morning; she had deliberately telephoned Richard Warner this early so that she could speak to him before he either left for the office or the hospital. But she wasn’t even dressed yet herself, let alone taken her run; who on earth—?

Suddenly she knew exactly who. And, after her recent calls from the Warners, and her conversation with Richard just now, she was in exactly the right frame of mind to talk to him!

She snatched up the receiver. ‘Yes?’ she snapped, all of her impatience evident in that single word.

‘I didn’t get you out of bed, did I, Jane Smith?’ Gabriel Vaughan returned in his mocking drawl.

Her hand tightened about the receiver. She had known it was him—it couldn’t have been anyone else, in the circumstances!—but even so she couldn’t help her instant recoil just at the sound of his voice.

She drew in a steadying breath. ‘No, Mr Vaughan,’ she answered calmly, ‘you didn’t get me out of bed.’ And, remembering what she had once been told about this man, she knew that he had probably already been up for hours, that he only needed three or four hours’ sleep a night.

‘I didn’t—interrupt anything, did I?’ he continued derisively.

‘Only my first coffee of the morning,’ she bit out tersely.

‘How do you take it?’

‘My coffee?’ she returned, frowning.

‘Your coffee,’ he confirmed, laughter evident in his voice now.

‘Black, no sugar,’ she came back tautly—and then wished she hadn’t. In retrospect, she could think of only one reason why he would be interested in how she liked her first cup of coffee of the morning!

‘I’ll make sure I remember that,’ Gabriel Vaughan assured her huskily.

‘I’m sure you didn’t call me to find out how I take my coffee,’ Jane snapped, sure that he remembered most things.

Except that other her, it seemed But how long would that last? Three years on, and not only did she look different, she was different, but Gabriel Vaughan had a very good reason for remembering everything that had happened three years ago, leading her to believe that his memory lapse where she was concerned would not continue. She had no doubt there would be no flirtatious early morning telephone calls then!

‘You’re wrong there, Jane Smith,’ he murmured throatily now. ‘You see, I want to know everything about you that there is to know—including how you take your coffee!’

Jane’s breath left her in a shaky sigh, her hand tightening painfully about the receiver. ‘I’m an extremely boring individual, I can assure you, Mr Vaughan,’ she told him abruptly.

‘Gabe,’ he put in smoothly. ‘And I very much doubt that, Jane,’ he added teasingly.

She didn’t care what he doubted. She worked, she went to bed, she ran, she shopped, she read, she worked, she went to bed Her life was structured, deliberately so. Routine, safe, uncomplicated. This man threatened complications she didn’t even want to think about!

‘Are you aware that Felicity Warner is in hospital, in danger of losing her baby?’ she attacked accusingly.

There was a slight pause on the other end of the telephone line. Very short, only a second or two, but Jane picked up on it anyway. To her surprise. Three years ago nothing had deterred this man. And she couldn’t really believe that had changed in any way.

‘I wasn’t aware that Felicity was pregnant,’ he finally rasped harshly.

‘Would it have made any difference if you had known?’ Jane scorned disgustedly, already knowing the answer to that question. Nothing distracted this man away from his purpose. And she couldn’t help feeling that he had been playing with the Warners by accepting their dinner invitation two evenings ago…!

‘Any difference to what?’ he returned in a silkily soft voice.

‘Let’s not play games, Mr Vaughan.’ She continued to be deliberately formal, despite his earlier invitation for her not to be. ‘You have business with Richard Warner, and that business appears to be affecting his wife’s health. And that of their unborn child,’ she added shakily. ‘Don’t you think—?’

‘I’m not sure you would like to hear what I think, Jane Smith,’ Gabriel Vaughan bit out coldly.

‘You’re right—I don’t,’ she snapped tersely. ‘But I think it’s way past time someone told you about your lack of thought for the people lives you walk into and instantly dismantle! Your method of dealing with people leaves a lot to be desired, and—’ She broke off abruptly, feeling the icy silence at the other end of the telephone line as it blasted its way in her direction. And at the same time she realised she had said too much…

‘And just what do you know about my “method of dealing with people”, Jane Smith?’ he prompted mildly—too mildly for comfort!

Too much. She had said too much! ‘You’re a public figure, Mr Vaughan.’ She attempted to cover up her lapse.

‘Not in England,’ he rasped. ‘Not for several years,’ he added harshly, all his previous lazy charm obliterated in cold anger.

‘Strange; I’m sure I saw your photograph in my daily newspaper yesterday morning…’ she came back pointedly; she had to try and salvage this conversation as best she could; she’d already been far too outspoken.

The last thing she wanted to do was increase this man’s interest in her! Ideally, she would like him to forget he had ever met someone called Jane Smith, but she would settle for disinterest—which wasn’t going to be achieved if she kept challenging him!

‘Of course, that was a social thing,’ she added lightly. ‘You were a guest at a party.’

‘I’m a sociable person, Jane,’ he drawled dryly. ‘Which was actually the reason for this call…’

He was going to ask her to cater a dinner party for him! There was no way she could work for or with this man. Absolutely no way!

‘I’m very heavily booked at this time of year, Mr Vaughan,’ she told him stiffly: Christmas was now only two weeks away. ‘My diary has been full for weeks, some of those bookings made months ago. However, I could recommend another catering firm who I’m sure would be only too pleased to—’

Gabriel Vaughan’s husky laugh cut in on her businesslike refusal. ‘You misunderstood me, Jane,’ he murmured, that laugh still evident in his voice. ‘I was asking you to have dinner with me, not trying to book your services as a cook—impressive as they might be!’

Now it was Jane’s turn to fall silent. Not because she was angry, as Gabriel Vaughan had been minutes ago—where had that anger gone…? No, she was stunned. Gabriel Vaughan was asking her for a date. Impossible. He just didn’t realise how impossible that was.

‘No,’ she said abruptly.

‘Just—no?’ he said slowly, musingly. ‘You don’t even want a little time to think about it?’

She doubted too many women had to do that where this man was concerned; he was handsome, single, undoubtedly rich, sophisticated, witty—what more could any woman want?

All Jane knew was that she did not want Gabriel Vaughan!

‘No,’ she repeated sharply.

‘Then I take it I was right earlier in assuming there’s someone else in your life,’ he dismissed hardly, a chill edging his tone.

Jane frowned. When earlier in this conversation had he assumed there was already someone else in her life? They hadn’t even touched on the subject.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she snapped.

‘It’s occurred to me, Jane, that you have an unhealthy interest—as far as Felicity goes—in Richard Warner’s affairs. And I don’t just mean his business ones!’ he added harshly.

‘You’re disgusting, Mr Vaughan,’ Jane told him angrily. ‘Other women’s husbands have never held any appeal for me, either!’ She deliberately threw his words to Felicity two evenings ago back in his face, then slammed down the receiver, immediately switching on the answer machine.

She didn’t think Gabriel Vaughan was the sort of man to ring a woman back when she had angrily terminated their telephone conversation, but on the off chance that he just might she had no intention of answering that call herself.

He had just implied she was having an affair with Richard Warner!

How dared he?

CHAPTER FOUR

‘WE MEET again, my dear Jane Smith.’

Jane froze in the act of placing the freshly baked meringues onto the cooling tray, closing her eyes briefly, hoping this was only a nightmare. One that she would wake up from at any second!

But closing her eyes achieved nothing, because she could smell his aftershave now, and knew that when she turned Gabriel Vaughan was going to be standing only feet behind her. Could it only be coincidence that this was the second dinner party in a week that she had catered for where Gabriel Vaughan was a guest…?

She opened her eyes, straightening her shoulders before turning sharply to face him, her heart missing a beat as the total masculinity of him suddenly dominated the kitchen in which she had worked so harmoniously for the last four hours.

She was realising that he was a man who wore a black evening suit and white shirt with a nonchalance that totally belied the exclusive cut of the expensive material. He was vibrantly attractive, in a way that stated he didn’t give a damn how he looked, that he was totally confident of his own masculinity, the challenging glitter of those aqua-blue eyes daring anyone to question it.

To her dismay, Jane realised that was probably exactly what she had done two days ago when she had turned down his invitation to dinner!

She gave a cool inclination of her head. ‘You mentioned that you’re a sociable person,’ she dismissed coldly.

‘And you,’ Gabe returned mockingly, ‘mentioned how busy you were for the next few weeks.’ He shrugged. ‘The mountain came to Mohammed!’

Her eyes narrowed warily. Could this man possibly have—? No, she couldn’t believe he would go to the extreme of having himself invited to a dinner party she was catering simply so that he— Couldn’t she…? Hadn’t the hostess this evening telephoned her earlier this morning and apologetically explained that, if it wasn’t going to be too much of a problem for her, there would be two extra guests for dinner this evening. Was Gabriel Vaughan one of those guests…?

‘I see,’ she murmured noncommittally. ‘I hope you’re enjoying the meal, Mr Vaughan,’ she added dismissively.

But Gabe wasn’t to be dismissed, leaning back against one of the kitchen units, totally relaxed—at least, on the surface; he must have been as aware as she was that the last time the two of them had spoken she had slammed the telephone down on him!

‘I am now,’ he assured her huskily, looking at her admiringly. ‘That’s quite a temper you have there, Jane Smith.’ There was an edge of admiration in his mocking tone as he too recalled the abrupt end of their telephone conversation two days ago.

Jane returned his gaze unblinkingly. ‘That was quite an accusation you made—Gabriel Vaughan,’ she returned, undaunted.

He smiled. More of a grin really, deep grooves beside his mouth, teeth white against his tanned skin. ‘Richard wasn’t too happy about it, either,’ he murmured with amusement.

Her eyes widened, the colour of rich sherry. ‘You repeated that—that ridiculous accusation to him?’ she gasped disbelievingly.

‘Mmm,’ Gabe acknowledged ruefully, his gaze lightly mocking. ‘Tell me,’ he continued consideringly, ‘what do you do for exercise?’

She shook her head, totally amazed at this man’s insulting conversation; he didn’t even try to be polite!

‘I run, Mr Vaughan,’ she snapped angrily. ‘And I really can’t believe you were so insensitive as to have repeated such an accusation to Richard, at a time like this—’

‘Felicity is out of hospital, you know.’ Gabe straightened, not as relaxed as he had been; in fact he looked slightly defensive, the challenging look back in his eyes.

As it happened, Jane did know—but she was surprised he did. She hadn’t actually gone in to see Felicity when she was in hospital, but she had telephoned the hospital to pass on her well wishes, and she had called Richard every day to check on his wife’s condition, relieved when she’d spoken to him this morning and heard that the doctor considered Felicity well enough to go home, the miscarriage in abeyance. For the moment. But surely if this man continued his hounding of Richard—and throwing out obscene accusations—that may not last…!

‘How long for?’ Jane scorned. ‘When do you intend making your next assault on Richard’s company?’ she added disgustedly.

‘I don’t assault, Jane,’ Gabe drawled derisively. ‘I acquire companies—’

‘By going for the jugular of the owner!’ she accused heatedly. ‘Look for the weakness, and then go for it!’

Gabe looked completely unmoved by her accusation. But those aqua-blue eyes had narrowed and a pulse was beating in his clenched jaw. Maybe he wasn’t as completely lacking in compassion as she had believed…

No, she couldn’t believe that. Three years ago he had been completely ruthless, totally without compassion. It had been his behaviour then that had turned an unbearable situation into a living hell. It was the very reason she had reacted so strongly to Felicity and Richard’s situation. For all the good that had done her—Gabriel Vaughan had taken her emotional response and immediately jumped to the conclusion that she must be having an affair with Richard!

‘Every company has its weak spot, Jane,’ Gabe mocked now. ‘But I only acquire the ones that are of interest to me.’ He pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘I don’t wish to alarm you, Jane, but there appears to be smoke coming from—’

Her second batch of meringues!

Ruined. Burned, she discovered as she quickly opened the oven door and black smoke belched out into the kitchen.

‘Don’t be a fool!’ Gabe rasped harshly, pushing her none too gently out of the way as she would have pulled the tray from inside the oven. ‘You open the kitchen door, and I’ll throw the tray out into the garden.’ He took the oven-glove from her unresisting fingers. ‘The door, Jane,’ he prompted again firmly as she still didn’t move.

Damn the man, she muttered to herself as she finally went to open the door. She couldn’t remember the last time she had burnt anything, let alone in the middle of a dinner party. But this man had disturbed her so badly that he had achieved it quite easily. She was losing it, damn it. Damn him!

‘Out of my way, Jane,’ Gabe instructed grimly, going past her to throw the blackened meringues, and the tray, out into the garden.

Jane watched wordlessly as the burnt mess landed outside in the snow. Yes, snow. Somewhere, in the midst of what was turning out to be a terrible evening—the second in a week—it had begun to snow, a layer of white already dusting everything, the overheated tray sizzling and crackling in the coldness.

‘Where do you run?’

She turned back to look at Gabriel Vaughan, dismayed at how close he was to her as they both stood in the open doorway, blinking up at him dazedly, the coldness of their breath intertwining. ‘The park near my apartment. Why?’ She frowned her sudden suspicion at the question.

His gaze remained unblinkingly on her own. ‘Just curious.’

She shook her head, outwardly unmoved by his closeness, but inwardly…! But if she moved away he would merely realise how disturbing she found it to be standing this close to him. And as far as she was concerned he already had enough of an advantage—even if he wasn’t aware of it!

And he could keep his damned curiosity to himself! Not that it really mattered; he had no idea where she lived, and so consequently he wouldn’t know which park it was, either!

‘By the look of this snow—’ she looked up into a sky that seemed full of the heavy whiteness ‘—I won’t be running anywhere tomorrow morning.’ Her morning run in the nearby park cleared her head and set the tone for the rest of her day, and finding Gabriel Vaughan there, accidentally or otherwise, would totally nullify the exercise!

‘A fair-weather runner, hmm?’ Gabe drawled derisively.

Her brows rose indignantly over wide sherry-brown eyes. ‘I don’t—’

‘Ah, Gabriel, this is where you’ve been hiding yourself,’ murmured a husky female voice. ‘What on earth is that dreadful smell?’ Celia Barnaby, the hostess of the evening, a tall, elegant blonde, wrinkled her nose at the smell of the burnt meringues that still lingered in the kitchen.

Gabe looked down at Jane, winking conspiratorially before turning to stroll across the kitchen to join his hostess. ‘I believe it was dessert, Celia,’ he drawled laughingly, taking a light hold of her arm as he guided her back out of the kitchen. ‘I think we should leave Jane alone so that she can do her best to salvage it in peace!’

‘But—’

‘I believe you were going to tell me about the skiing holiday you’re taking in the New Year?’ Gabe prompted lightly, continuing to steer the obviously reluctant Celia away from the disaster area. ‘Aspen, wasn’t it?’ He glanced back at Jane over the top of the other woman’s head, his smile one of intimate collusion.

‘Damn the man,’ Jane muttered to herself as she set about ‘salvaging’ and she didn’t have a lot of time to do it. Her two helpers for the evening were now returning with the empty vegetable dishes, as the main course had just been served.

By the time she had finished arranging the meringues and fruit on the plates, lightly covering the latter with a raspberry sauce, no one would ever have guessed that there should actually have been two meringues on each plate.

Except Gabriel Vaughan, of course. But then, he was the reason for the omission; if she hadn’t been busy fending off his questions then this disaster wouldn’t have happened. She was just too professional, too organised, for to this happen under normal circumstances. But with Gabriel Vaughan once again present it was far from normal!

In fact, she was slightly on edge for the rest of the evening, kept half expecting Gabriel Vaughan to stroll back into the kitchen unannounced; it just didn’t seem to occur to him that the dinner guests weren’t supposed to just stroll about the homes of their host or hostess, let alone go into the kitchen and chat to the hired help! That was his inborn arrogance, Jane decided derisively; Gabriel Vaughan would go where he wanted, when he wanted.

And he would also say exactly what he pleased, even if it was insulting!

She couldn’t even imagine what Richard Warner must be thinking about the other man’s accusations concerning the two of them. It was so ludicrous it would be laughable in other circumstances. As it was, she could imagine that Gabe’s words that Richard ‘wasn’t too happy’ about it were definitely an understatement where Richard was concerned!

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