“I’ve a proposal to put to you.”

Xavier continued smoothly, “Over dinner, a friendly dinner.”

“All right.” The least she could do was hear what he had to say. “I’ll…I’ll meet you later.”

“Good.” He thought about how she had felt pressed against him earlier and his body responded instantly. “I’ll look forward to it,” he said blandly.

“It’s a business dinner?” Essie asked nervously.

“Sure.” And then he stepped forward and kissed Essie lightly on the mouth, turning away as he said, “A business dinner…between friends.”

Dear Reader,

My husband and I will celebrate our thirtieth wedding anniversary in the new millennium and we’re planning something special! It set me to thinking about the day my husband proposed (yes, it was the full works—bended knee, little velvet box holding the ring of my dreams, deep red roses and champagne, the lot!).

Like people, proposals come in all shapes and sizes, which is what makes them—and us—so interesting. Halfway up a mountainside in a blizzard, on a beautiful Caribbean beach, stuck in a broken-down train in the middle of nowhere…I’ve heard the lot from friends and family over the years.

So, I thought, why not write a special duet of books exploring the motives behind two very special—and very different—proposals in one family? And that’s how the idea for MARRY ME? was born: two books on one extremely romantic theme. I do hope you’ll enjoy A Suspicious Proposal, and look out next month for A Convenient Proposal (#2118).

Lots of love,

Helen Brooks

A Suspicious Proposal
Helen Brooks

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

OH, SHE felt dodgy, she really did. Why, oh, why had she had that crab and prawn cocktail at the hotel last night, when she’d known at the first mouthful it didn’t taste quite right? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

‘And do you, Christine Harper, take Enoch Charles Brown…?’

Enoch? For a moment, Essie’s thoughts lifted from the state of her stomach and swirling head and focused on the couple standing at the altar in front of her. Fancy old Charlie having Enoch for his first name! He’d kept that quiet all through veterinary college—but then she couldn’t really blame him. Had Chris known Charlie wasn’t really Charlie but an Enoch in disguise?

It was just at that moment that Christine turned her head in its swathe of chiffon edged with sequins and gazed up adoringly into Charlie’s handsome face, and Essie reflected wryly that it wouldn’t have made any difference if Chris had known or not. Her friend was head over heels in love with her dashing veterinary surgeon and had been from the very second their eyes had met on the first morning of college. And now here they all were, a few short years later, in Christine’s quaint little parish church in Stafford.

As the vicar’s voice droned on, Essie’s eyes wandered from the back of the frothy lace figure in front of her to her own pale lemon satin-bedecked shape. She wished this was over. The pills Christine’s mother had insisted she take that morning—‘The chief bridesmaid can’t go hopping off to the loo halfway through the service, now then, Essie. Take these and you’ll get through without any problems’—had seemed to stop the more unpleasant manifestations of the touch of food poisoning she was experiencing, but the fact that she had been up all night and hadn’t dared to eat a thing that morning was making her feel very peculiar.

She wished she could slip these precariously high-heeled shoes off. They were pinching like mad. Essie surreptitiously tried to ease her aching toes but nearly overbalanced in the process, only the quick steadying hand of Janice— Christine’s cousin—at the side of her preventing her from catapulting into the pair in front.

It was as Essie was giving a weak smile of thanks to the grinning Janice that she noticed him. He was staring, openly, from his vantage point in the pew adjoining the aisle, and he was a big man—but purely in the muscular sense; she doubted if there was an ounce of spare flesh anywhere on the lean, finely honed male frame. His hair was jet-black, almost a blue-black, and his skin was very tanned, emphasising the ice-blue of the narrowed eyes still more.

And it was the eyes that caused Essie’s face to straighten with an abruptness born of shock. They were disapproving. No, more than that, she corrected herself silently; they were positively scathing.

She tore her mesmerised gaze away, jerking her head to the front again as she forced herself to take a long deep breath and count to ten, but she couldn’t do anything about the tell-tale colour flooding her skin.

How dared he look at her like that? she asked herself furiously, her cheeks burning. The cold eyes had been withering, his mouth quite literally curling at the edges with a scorn that was searing. And she had never seen him before in her life. She knew she hadn’t. Him, she would have remembered!

Her agitation wasn’t helping either her stomach or her fuzzy head and Essie tried desperately to concentrate on nothing but the scene being enacted in front of her; then, as the minister indicated for the bride and groom and their respective parents—along with the best man—to follow him out into the little vestry at the rear of the church, she was able to move forward and sink down onto the front pew and ease her shaking legs, blessing the fact that the tiny room had been considered too small to take the bridesmaids.

Who was he? Under cover of a very plump lady singing a solo spirited rendition of ‘Love Found a Way’ at a volume that made the eyeballs rattle, Essie whispered the thought to Janice. ‘Don’t look now, Jan, but there’s a man in the second pew from the front, a…tall man. Do you know who he is?’

‘You mean Xavier Grey.’ Janice didn’t even have to think about it and there was definite relish in her voice when she said, ‘He’s gorgeous, isn’t he? Not exactly handsome in the traditional sense—but he’s got something that makes the toes curl, all right.’

‘Gorgeous’ was not the adjective Essie would have chosen and her tone reflected this when she said, ‘You know him, then?’

‘I know of him.’ There was a definite note of wistful longing in Janice’s voice. ‘Apparently he’s Charlie’s—or should I say Enoch’s—’ Janice dug Essie in the ribs with a wicked chuckle ‘—second cousin twice removed or some such thing. Aunt June—’ Christine’s mother ‘—said there was some sort of family quarrel years ago, from what she can make out, and the feud’s continued right up until this wedding brought some sort of reconciliation.’

‘Oh, right.’ Essie nodded her blonde head and then bent a little closer as the warbling refrains of ‘Love lifted me from depths of woe to endless day’ drowned Janice’s next words.

‘What?’ she whispered enquiringly.

‘I said, I notice he’s got seated right at the front with the immediate family,’ Janice whispered back meaningfully. And then, at Essie’s puzzled frown she added cryptically, ‘He’s stinking rich.’

‘Stinking…?’

‘Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?’ Janice murmured softly. ‘Charlie’s parents want to get in with him, now everyone’s chummy again; a millionaire in the family isn’t to be sneezed at.’

‘Is he? A millionaire, I mean?’

‘Too true.’ Janice sighed longingly, her rosy-cheeked plain face mournful. ‘It’s not fair, is it, that some lucky woman will get all that—wealth, a life of ease and comfort, and Xavier Grey to wake up to in the morning.’

‘He might be a real pig when you get to know him,’ Essie said flatly.

‘With all that he’s got going for him, I’d excuse him anything.’ Janice grinned back, just as the last note of music died away. The rest of the congregation took a deep reviving breath and savoured the blissful silence for a moment, before shuffling to their feet as the bridal pair emerged from the back of the church, their faces beaming.

The next hour consisted of endless photographs under the voluptuous blossom of the cherry trees surrounding the square of village green and, although Essie felt a little better in the fresh May air, it was still an effort for her to smile brightly and act normally when her stomach kept growling like a bear with a sore head. But the light spring breeze and soft golden sunshine had cleared her muzzy head by the time the bridesmaids were all back in the second wedding car, being transported to the wedding reception some five miles away.

There were more photographs in the elegant foyer of the luxurious hotel where the wedding lunch was being held—the foyer had its own miniature waterfall, which the photographers enthused over—but then they were all seated on the top table and Essie could kick off her shoes and relax back in her seat.

But only for a second. Then her eyes met the piercingly silver-blue gaze she had been avoiding for the last hour and a half, and she realised in that instant that she had been aware of Xavier Grey every moment of the time that had elapsed since that first shock of eye-contact in the church. He’d been watching her, and the quality of his scrutiny hadn’t changed—it was still derisive.

She stared back over the tables into the hard, aggressively masculine face, her deep violet-blue eyes betraying none of the apprehension and unease which was causing her heart to pound like a drum.

What was the matter with him? she asked herself as a waiter moved between them, breaking the eye-contact and allowing her to sink back again, her cheeks flushed and hot. He was acting as though he knew her, as though she had done something awful. Had he mistaken her for someone else? Was that it? It was certainly the only explanation that made any sense.

The meal, in spite of the lavish surroundings, was mediocre, but Essie managed a few mouthfuls of each course—enough not to bring any attention to herself, anyway. She was seated next to the best man, Charlie’s brother, who was married with a very pregnant wife he blatantly adored, and for most of the lunch he regaled her with the intricacies of antenatal classes and the baby books he had read, but in such a purposely amusing way that the two of them were convulsed with laughter every few minutes. And she made absolutely sure she didn’t glance Xavier Grey’s way again. But he was watching her. She just knew it.

The speeches over, the wedding cake cut and the drinks flowing freely was the signal for the radiant bride and groom to take the floor for the first dance, and Essie found herself misty-eyed at the look on Christine’s face as she gazed up at her new husband.

She was glad it had worked out for Christine, she thought warmly; she really was. Charlie had had something of a roving eye at veterinary college, and there had been times when Essie had been fearful he was playing fast and loose. But here he was, the devoted bridegroom, and Christine had fulfilled her dearest wish and was now Mrs Brown. A classic happy ending, and you didn’t get too many of those these days. She pushed the somewhat cynical thought aside abruptly, cross that she had let it surface on Christine’s wedding day, and took a long swallow from her glass of tonic water.

‘I’d go careful with that, if I were you.’

The deep, husky and very sexy Canadian drawl brought Essie’s head swinging round and then she froze, the smile dying from her face and her thought processes freezing.

Close up, Xavier Grey was even bigger than she had thought—six foot two or three easily—but it was the overall hardness of him that had caused her brain to stop. The rugged toughness of the uncompromisingly cold face, the lean, powerful body, the big-muscled shoulders all spoke of a male strength and power that was formidable. He looked hard-bitten and shrewd and unsentimental, and he scared her to death.

‘Careful with…?’

Her echo of his words was spoken unconsciously; all lucid thought was taken up with the frightening giant in front of her. But then, as he nodded again towards the glass in her hand and said, his voice cool and compelling, ‘Shouldn’t you try and remain compos mentis in case Christine needs you?’ she understood what he was insinuating. ‘Champagne is supposed to be sipped, not consumed in great gulps,’ he continued conversationally.

Champagne? He’d assumed her sensible tonic water was champagne? Essie thought bewilderedly, closely followed with, How dared he anyway? And what was it to do with him if she drank bottles of champagne?

‘Look, I’m sorry but—’

‘I understand the hen party was a riot—’ the hateful, easy drawl was patronising ‘—but dancing on the table and being carried home from the pub is one thing, the wedding day is another. You were clearly toting the mother and father of a hangover in church; don’t you think you owe it to Christine to conduct yourself properly today?’

She stared at him, too flabbergasted to speak. It had been Janice who had overimbibed at the hen party the night before and had been carried home; but, as Janice herself had said cheerfully that morning, when they were climbing into their bridesmaid’s dresses, she had a cast-iron stomach and never woke with a hangover. ‘Of course, the parties at college are a good training ground,’ the other girl had admitted brightly, ‘and my evening job at the Sportsman’s Arms helps, too. Still, I’ll have to start watching it, I suppose. I did make something of a spectacle of myself last night, didn’t I?’

Essie had grinned at the frankly unabashed face in front of her and made some soothing comment—she couldn’t remember what, now. Janice was twenty years old, big, heavy, and not even her mother could have called her pretty, but there was a charm about the utterly unpretentious girl that was very endearing. And she had been comical the night before—hilarious, in fact. But suddenly it all didn’t seem so amusing.

Xavier Grey was smiling at her now, and his tone was definitely condescending when he added, ‘I understand you’re doing Theatre Studies at college, Janice? You’re hoping to go on the stage?’ His ice-blue eyes lingered on her mass of silky golden curls that would never be restrained, the huge violet-blue eyes with their thick, thick lashes and the perfect creamy skin.

Essie opened her mouth to tell him of his mistake a second before full realisation hit, turning her eyes dark purple. Xavier had clearly been informed of the antics of the night before by one of his relatives, and when he had seen herself and Janice he had automatically labelled her the giddy college student with the part-time job as a barmaid. And why? Essie stared at the strong-featured, vigorous face in front of her. Because she was the typical male perception of a blonde bimbo, that was why!

All her life she had been dogged by this particular mentality from a certain section of the opposite sex, and it grated—it grated unbearably, and never as much as now. There were some men who even seemed to take it as some sort of personal insult when they found out she was a darn sight more intelligent than them; that she had a brain and knew how to use it. She had got three straight As in her A Levels, and at veterinary college she had more than held her own with her male colleagues, in spite of weighing just nine stone and being five foot seven.

‘Go on the stage?’ She turned in her seat, the pale lemon satin of her dress and the fresh daisies threaded in the gold of her hair adding to the impression of a young girl barely out of her teens. That was another thing that always proved awkward, especially when she had been doing her veterinary training. It hadn’t been so bad at the surgery, with the domestic animals, but when she had gone out to the farms to deal with a poorly heifer or another of the large animals some of the farmers had been totally dumbstruck.

‘Or are your sights set even higher? Maybe Hollywood?’

Oh, yes, he definitely had her labelled as the hopeful little blonde starlet, Essie told herself savagely: all hair and breasts and cotton wool where her brain should have been. He’d be saying next he knew a Hollywood producer or something, and maybe she’d like to come out to the back seat of his car to discuss it. But no, not the back seat, she silently corrected herself in the next moment—nothing so tacky for Xavier Grey. It would be a full dinner and hotel room for this man.

He needed taking down a peg or two. The thought had been there from the first moment she had seen him but now crystallised into firm conviction. And, if he did but know it, he had given her the perfect opportunity to do just that, because, along with the unmistakable condescension, there was something else staring out of the dark male face and she had seen it in too many other men to doubt it. He fancied her. Physically, he fancied her very much, although it was clear he thought her mind was way, way below his notice.

‘Hollywood?’ Essie put a coo into her voice that was so hammed up that, for a moment, she thought she had overdone it. But he swallowed it, hook, line and sinker. ‘Little old me?’ She pouted slightly, allowing her full rosebud mouth to send out an invitation as old as time. ‘You’re teasing me.’

‘Not at all,’ he responded gallantly. ‘You can do anything you want in life if you’re determined enough.’

Oh, she was determined, all right—determined to teach Xavier Grey a lesson he would never forget!

‘You really think so?’ She let the full sweep of her thick dark lashes cover her eyes for a moment before raising them again to look straight into his face.

‘Of course. Look at Christine and Essie,’ Xavier said quietly, sliding into the seat Charlie’s brother had recently vacated when he had gone to sit with his wife and her parents, once the dancing had started. ‘They would have been very much the exception to the rule, even as short a time as a couple of decades ago, but more and more women are becoming veterinary surgeons now. Of course, others are more suited to less…physically demanding careers,’ he added softly, his eyes moving over her delicate loveliness again.

‘You think Essie looks the part, is that it?’ Essie asked with determined innocence, opening her eyes very wide. ‘She is quite strong.’

‘I’m sure she is.’ Xavier glanced across to where Janice was dancing an energetic foxtrot with one of the guests, her thick-set, strapping frame straining the pale lemon satin to excess. ‘And perfectly suited for her chosen profession, as you are for yours.’

Oh, you utter, absolute male chauvinist pig, you. Essie had to look down quickly before he saw the blaze of anger in her eyes.

‘Would you care to dance?’

He had clearly taken her action as a form of coquetry—she could read it in the slightly amused, resigned note hidden in the deep voice—and now she raised her eyes again, pushing back the soft curls that had fallen about her face as she said brightly, ‘That would be lovely, thank you.’

‘The pleasure will be all mine.’

The flirting was obvious but circumspect, Essie thought cynically, rising gracefully to her feet after slipping her shoes on. She had to admit that, for all his rugged hardness, he was a smooth devil when he wanted to be.

She was aware of more than one frankly envious pair of female eyes following her as she made her way to the dance floor with Xavier’s hand in the small of her back, and wondered what all those women would think if they knew what she was about. But they didn’t: and, more importantly, neither did Xavier Grey. Of course, it would only take one person to call her by name for her little ruse to be brought out into the open, but hopefully she could continue it for a little longer. It was going to be so sweet to see the look on his arrogant male face when he realised he’d been taken for a ride.

And few of the guests knew her. She hugged the thought to her as she turned and allowed him to take her into his arms. When she had met Christine at university, the two of them had become immediate best friends, their delight when they were both accepted for the same veterinary college exuberant. But she had only visited Christine’s family once or twice in the intervening years, due to the fact that she—unlike Christine—did not have well-to-do parents supporting her. She had needed to work every minute she could at weekends and in the holidays to pay the innumerable expenses involved in the training for the career she loved so passionately. So it might be a while yet before her deception was discovered by the big hard man holding her close.

Too close. She looked up past the massive width of his shoulders and the silver-blue eyes were waiting for her, their expression unfathomable.

Essie smiled, but coolly this time, easing herself from the large, lean frame as she said, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t think you told me your name?’

There was a momentary flicker of surprise in the narrowed gaze—which Essie counted as a small triumph; he had clearly assumed everyone knew who the great Xavier Grey was, she thought nastily—before he said, ‘I’m sorry. How remiss of me. I think I must have assumed your aunt and uncle would have told you the names of the new contingent added to Enoch’s family.’ His tone was wry. ‘My name is Xavier Grey and I am totally at your disposal.’

Far more than he thought, right at this moment. Essie smiled sweetly.

‘Hello, Xavier Grey,’ she said with honeyed charm.

‘Hello, Janice.’ He was out to seduce, all right. The deep voice was seriously sensual, and Essie could have giggled if it weren’t for the sudden alarms that had gone off all over her body. He was too good at this, that was the trouble, she told herself quickly, and in this particular instance that suggested a great deal of experience. The warm, smoky tone of his voice, the mellowing of that harsh, rugged face and the deliciously tempting smell of his aftershave all spoke of a dedicated wolf in sheep’s clothing. Well, perhaps not his aftershave, she admitted to herself in the next instant; that was probably just part of the man himself. But the rest… It was a definite practised, tried and tested come-on and no doubt had rendered Xavier dividends in the past. But not today, and not with her.

She nestled back against him, trying to ignore how perfectly her head fitted under his chin and how it felt to be in the arms of a virile, powerful man like him, telling herself she owed it to all the other women in the world to teach him that all cats weren’t grey in the dark. But the touch of sanctimonious self-righteousness was swiftly dispelled by her innate honesty. She was doing this for herself, no one else and he deserved it; he really did.

‘How old are you, Janice?’

There was a note to his voice now she couldn’t quite place and it made her tilt her face to his again. ‘You mean the family grapevine hasn’t dotted the i’s and crossed the t’s?’ she asked lightly. ‘I would have thought you’d have been given the low-down, on both sides, to the last tiny detail.’

His eyes crinkled and her stomach flipped, and this time it was nothing to do with the crab and prawn cocktail. ‘Family gossip is the worst thing,’ he agreed softly.

‘Isn’t it just?’ She dimpled up at him, batting her eyelashes in true Hollywood style. ‘But thorough.’

‘You’re twenty years old, unattached, and determined to branch out into the precarious world of entertainment—their opinion, not mine,’ he added hastily.

‘That’s what they told you about little old Janice Beaver?’ Essie asked teasingly.

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Then I guess I can’t argue with it.’

He nodded slowly. ‘How old do you think I am?’ he asked after a long moment.

Oh, help. Essie kept her face fixed in its come-hither mode as her mind sought a throwaway line to finish what had become a minefield and came up empty. ‘I don’t know; thirty, thirty-one maybe?’ she suggested with a winsome smile. He looked to be in his late thirties, maybe early forties, but that wouldn’t win her any prizes in this sweepstake.

‘You’re being kind.’ He grinned down at her and again her body responded with frightening immediacy to the lethal male charm that was becoming stronger every second she was with him. ‘I’m thirty-three,’ he said softly, ‘but I know I look a good few years older.’

She couldn’t think of a thing to say, so she batted her eyelashes again for good measure and shrugged offhandedly. ‘I’m not into this age thing.’ She wrinkled her small nose at him provocatively. ‘Toy-boys, toy-girls, sugar-daddies and all that—so what? It’s just society putting labels on people when all’s said and done, don’t you think?’ And then, as the somewhat sombre waltz changed to a pop number and disco lights began to flash, she added, ‘Prepare your ears for blasting. Christine gave in to the first three dances being formal but the rest of the music is her and Charlie’s choice and they’re into soul and rock and roll.’

‘Great. Time for a drink, I think.’ As the hard male body straightened away from her, she was shocked at the sudden sense of loss she felt, but then he was guiding her towards the bar and, to her horror, she saw Charlie’s brother and his wife and in-laws in a little group directly in front of them. It was too soon to blow her cover!

‘I’ll wait here.’ She ducked into a small alcove, but not before he had followed her eyes.

‘Right.’ The warmth had gone from his voice and now his eyes were blue ice. ‘Went a bit too far, did you?’

‘I beg your pardon?’ She stared at him, utterly at a loss.

‘With Edward.’ He indicated Charlie’s brother with a wave of his hand. ‘I noticed you two were getting on rather well during the meal. Wife objected, did she?’

‘What?’ She didn’t believe this man; she really didn’t. First he had her typecast as a fluffy little coquette without a brain in her head and now she was a would-be husband-stealer, too! The man was obsessed. She knew she’d gone scarlet—temper always affected her that way—but just as she opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of him a portly matron—a vision in bright pink and mauve—descended on them. Her red-painted mouth was already gushing how absolutely wonderful it was to see him, she’d heard so much about him, and hadn’t it been a positively divine service?

Xavier was polite, just about, but his voice was cool with a satirical bite and the woman didn’t linger. Nevertheless, it gave Essie a few precious moments to gather her wits and take control of her tongue. He’d pay for that last remark. Not yet, no—she’d take this as far as it could go—but it would make the moment he found out he’d been made a prize fool of all the more precious. What gave him the right to set himself up as judge and jury on other people, anyway? she thought tightly as she watched him make his way to the bar after he had asked her what she would like to drink. She had thought of asking for a double brandy or something similar—to fit the image—but, just in case he took her at her word, she hadn’t dared. Her delicate stomach couldn’t cope with anything stronger than tonic water.

By the time he returned, Essie was fully into the part she was playing again. As they sat down at a vacant table, she set to with gusto, regaling him with a few of the anecdotes Janice had told them last night about her life at college—and out of it—especially the more outrageous bits. Janice had had no compunction in revealing she was no vestal virgin, and now, as Essie related the other girl’s stories, she had the added advantage of authenticity.

And yet she wasn’t getting quite the reaction she had expected, she admitted to herself after some time had passed. He ought to be congratulating himself that he was on to a good thing, but if he was he was hiding it well, she thought caustically. The air of disapproval was stronger now, if anything.

‘You’ll burn yourself out if you’re not careful.’ His voice was abrupt after she had giggled her way through Janice’s antics at the college Christmas party, which were definitely X-rated.

Funnily enough, it was exactly what she herself had said to Janice the night before, and now she gave the answer Janice had given her in the same flippant tone the other girl had used. ‘Life’s for living and I want to get the most I can out of mine.’

‘I think you’ve made that very clear,’ he said grimly.

‘And you?’ She leant forward now, just close enough so her perfume—a wildly expensive one that Christine and Charlie had given her and Janice to thank them for being bridesmaids—tickled his senses and the soft silk of her hair brushed his face for a moment. ‘What about you?’ she asked softly. ‘Don’t you believe in having a good time?’

‘Oh, yes, Janice. I believe in having a good time,’ he said with a sudden silky dangerousness that caused the alarm bells to start ringing.

She was out of her league here. A tiny voice in Essie’s head shouted the warning. She had been playing with fire, and, if she wasn’t very careful, she might well get burnt. A little shiver of something hot—fear, excitement, desire? She wasn’t sure—flickered down her spine, igniting something deep in the core of her.

‘There you are, then,’ she said huskily, and the throatiness wasn’t at all feigned. Janice had been right when she’d said Xavier Grey had something, and that something was lethal. Call it sheer old-fashioned sex appeal or animal magnetism or whatever—he had it all right. And he knew how to use it when he wanted to, Essie thought weakly. One minute the cool, aloof ice-man, the next a seductive, fascinating charmer with more pulling power than a hundred icons of the silver screen.

‘Look, I’m going to have to circulate for a while.’ She stood up abruptly and she wouldn’t admit to herself it was due to panic. ‘We’ve been talking for nearly an hour and as—’ she nearly said ‘chief bridesmaid’ and checked herself just in time, in case he’d been told that job was Essie’s ‘—a bridesmaid there are certain duties expected of me.’

‘Of course.’ He had risen to his feet with her and now he nodded, his manner easy. ‘Just one thing…’

‘Yes?’ He had paused and now Essie looked up at him enquiringly. ‘What is it?’

‘Come back to me.’ His voice was deep and low and the heat inside her burnt stronger. Which was ridiculous, just plain ridiculous, she told herself feverishly, hearing her voice make some light reply even as her mind worked quite separately. He was an experienced man of the world, a powerful, rich bachelor who was used to women lining up for him, and an encounter like this would mean nothing to him.

And what was this encounter, anyway? she asked herself with a touch of hidden hysteria as she walked across the room to where Janice was sitting—with characteristic abandonment—with her shoes off and her feet resting on another chair. It was a fabrication, an illusion.

‘I see you’ve made a conquest.’ Janice’s voice was utterly without malice as she glanced up at the slim, beautiful girl in front of her. ‘He hasn’t taken his eyes off you all day.’

‘No.’ Essie looked down at the other girl and came to an instant decision, plumping down beside her and leaning forward conspiratorially. ‘Actually, Jan, it isn’t as straightforward as it looks.’

‘What isn’t?’

‘Me and Xavier Grey. He thinks I’m you,’ Essie said quietly.

‘What?’ Janice jerked her feet to the floor. ‘How on earth did he come to think that?’ she asked in bewilderment. ‘And why haven’t you told him who you really are?’

‘Well, it was like this…’ As Essie began to explain, Janice’s eyes began to twinkle, and by the time she had finished, the other girl was giggling unrestrainedly.

‘Serves him right.’ She glanced across the room and then back to Essie. ‘And it’s pretty insulting to me, too, if you think about it. I might not be God’s gift to the male sex, but I can still get the odd fella’s juices going, I can tell you.’

‘I don’t doubt it for a minute.’ Essie grinned back, and then, as their gazes met and held, both girls collapsed into helpless laughter.

‘So when are you going to tell him?’ Janice asked, once they had composed themselves.

‘I don’t know.’ Essie shrugged her slim shoulders. ‘When I’m tumbled, I suppose; someone is bound to drop me in it eventually.’

‘Talking of tumbling…’ Janice’s face was suddenly serious as she looked into the deep violet-blue eyes in front of her. ‘He’s got a bit of a reputation, Essie, so watch yourself. He’s the original cool love-’em-and-leave-’em type; never gets involved and plays strictly by his own rules. According to Aunt June, he has women throwing themselves at him all the time; but as soon as it looks like getting serious it’s curtains. He’s not a man to mess with.’

‘I don’t intend to mess with him, Jan, not in that sense, anyway,’ Essie said firmly. ‘He’s arrogant and rude and overbearing—’

‘And gorgeous.’ Janice’s voice was full of laughter now. ‘You have to admit that, Essie, even if you don’t like him. He’s totally drop-dead gorgeous. That mixture of cool control and ruthlessness is dynamite and, when added to his looks and the fact that he’s absolutely loaded…what an aphrodisiac!’

‘Jan, you’re awful.’ Essie pushed at the other girl’s arm but she couldn’t help laughing. Janice was one on her own, a real original, and she was warm and funny and kind. In the short time she had known her, Essie had found she liked Christine’s cousin very much. And Janice was quite right—it was every bit as insulting for Xavier to label Janice as it was for him to label her, Essie thought militantly. Janice might not look like Marilyn Monroe but that didn’t mean she couldn’t make it in the theatre, or that she didn’t have plenty to offer a man.

The two girls did a duty tour of some of the guests before making their way to Christine and Charlie’s side as the time approached for the bridal couple to get changed. The reception was due to finish at seven o’clock and Christine and Charlie were catching a train to London, where they were staying overnight before flying to Greece for two weeks.

Christine had brought her suitcase to the hotel and now, as Essie and Janice helped the other girl change in the little room the hotel had provided, there were plenty of giggles and fun. And then Christine was ready, looking lovely in a pale blue stretch-silk dress with a white cotton jacket, and the next few minutes were full of goodbyes and confetti and tears from both the mothers as the newly-weds departed in their taxi.

And all the time, through every moment that had elapsed since she had left Xavier’s side, Essie was conscious of a tall, dark figure dominating her thoughts and keeping the host of butterflies in her stomach dancing madly.

Perhaps he knew by now? As the taxi disappeared out of the hotel car park with a cheerful honking of its horn, Essie turned to survey the crowd standing on the steps, and immediately she caught Xavier’s eye. He was at least a couple of inches taller than the other men present but it was more the quality of aloofness that seemed to permeate his air space that acted as a magnet. And she saw straight away, from the warm smile and lazily hooded eyes, that as yet he was oblivious to the trick she had played on him.

And Janice was right, he was gorgeous, she admitted faintly. The dark grey suit that screamed a designer label, the jade-green shirt and silk tie were all of the very best, but it was him—Xavier Grey—that was breathtaking.

She shouldn’t have started this. The thought was there and it was disturbing, but in the next moment he had made his way to her side, looking down at her with silver-blue eyes that caught the last of the dying sunlight.

‘You performed your duties admirably.’ His smile included Janice, who was standing at her side, and now his gaze swept over the pair of them as he said courteously, ‘Perhaps you would allow me to buy you both dinner, if you’re not otherwise engaged?’

She must tell him. This had gone far enough and it was time to come clean. But before she could open her mouth Janice said brightly, ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Mr Grey, but I’m already booked. I’m sure Janice would love to have dinner with you, though.’

‘Would you? Love to have dinner with me, that is?’ he asked her softly as Janice disappeared with a cheerful goodbye into the crowd moving back into the hotel.

‘I…I don’t know—’

‘You’d be taking pity on a lonely stranger if you did,’ he drawled persuasively. ‘I’m booked into a hotel—my own choice, as I’m sure you know. I can’t stand these family get-togethers,’ he added, somewhat caustically, ‘and I’m flying to Germany to oversee a business deal first thing in the morning. I wasn’t looking forward to eating alone.’

She doubted that. He was the type of man who would relish being alone—hadn’t his own comment confirmed that very thing? And on their tour of the guests earlier Janice had whispered in her ear that Aunt June had told her Charlie’s relations had been falling over themselves to persuade him to stay with one of them but he had declined all invitations, graciously but very firmly.

‘And I think we might even allow you a couple of glasses of wine,’ he continued quietly, blithely unaware of her sudden sharp look at his face, ‘if your stomach’s recovered?’

‘It wasn’t a hangover, actually.’ Her voice was tight but she couldn’t help it—enough was enough. ‘I had a touch of food poisoning from a suspect seafood cocktail last night.’ He would allow her a couple of glasses of wine! What did he think she was? A little puppy being allowed treats?

‘Really?’ It was lazy and relaxed and told her he didn’t believe a word of it, and it made her mad. Even more mad than she had felt earlier.

‘Yes, really,’ she said bitingly, and this time he noticed the tone.

‘Don’t be prickly, Janice. I’m only thinking of you,’ he said softly, ‘and there’s nothing worse than a woman who doesn’t know when she’d had enough. It’s most…unattractive.’

She’d had enough, all right—more than enough—and the façade was back on with a vengeance! He wanted a cute little girlie to keep him company tonight, did he? Well, he was going to get just a little more than he had bargained for.

She took a long deep breath, a really long deep breath, and prayed for the strength to control her anger and not blow it. ‘I’d love to have dinner with you, Xavier,’ she said carefully.

‘Good.’ His voice was slightly amused; he clearly thought she was still a little huffy. ‘I’ll pick you up from your home, shall I? What’s the address?’

‘Oh, no, don’t do that.’ What did she say now? What excuse could she give? Her mind had gone blank. Essie thought frantically, and then said quickly, ‘I’ve got to see a couple of college friends about a project we’re involved in, first. I’ll get a taxi to your hotel after I’m through—say, about eight-thirty? Is that okay?’

‘Sure.’ His eyes had narrowed slightly but the tone was still relaxed. ‘I’m staying at the Blue Baron. Do you know it?’

Did she know it? She was staying there herself! Essie smiled and prayed some more, this time for the ability to hide her agitation from those razor-sharp eyes that had homed in on her with unnerving perception.

‘Yes, I know it.’ She heard her voice speak calmly and coolly and was amazed at how normal it sounded. Perhaps she had gone in for the wrong career, after all; she was better at this acting than she would ever have thought possible! ’Till eight-thirty, then.’

‘Eight-thirty.’ And then he bent his head towards her, his gaze mesmerising as it held hers. Although she knew he was going to kiss her and that she really should pull back, she didn’t.

His lips were warm and firm as they brushed hers in the lightest of caresses, and he turned away immediately, but not before she had felt a hundred tiny electric shocks tingle in every nerve in her body. They were still tingling, warm and fluid, as she watched him make his goodbyes to the two respective pairs of parents, before striding down into the car park and over to a dark blue Mercedes.

He didn’t look at her again as he drove out of the hotel grounds but she knew he was aware of her—as vitally aware of her as she was of him. And again she told herself this was crazy, dangerous, that she was way, way out of her league and that her little joke, her small effort at revenge, had escalated into something more disturbing.

Janice joined her as the Mercedes disappeared, tucking her arm through Essie’s as she said, ‘You’re seeing him tonight?’ in a tone that said she knew the answer before Essie spoke.

Essie nodded slowly.

‘Then take it from me, girl, tell him in the first few seconds what you’ve done, turn it into a joke against yourself somehow, and you’ll have him eating out of your hand. He’s crazy about you; he fancies you like mad.’

‘He fancies Janice Beaver, actually,’ Essie said, with a weak smile.

‘A rose by any other name…’ Janice grinned at her before she said again, urgently this time, ‘Tell him, Essie, right off. That way you can start again, and who knows what might come of it?’

‘I don’t want anything to come of it.’

‘No?’ Janice’s tone was sceptical.

‘No. I mean it.’ Essie turned to look Janice full in the face now, and something in her eyes made Janice’s gaze narrow. ‘The last thing I want to do is to get involved in a relationship, Janice. There was someone at university… Well, I got my fingers badly burned, that’s all, and I prefer the odd light date with no strings attached now. My career is my life and I intend to keep it that way.’

‘You sound a perfect match for Xavier, if you ask me.’ Janice looked into the ethereally beautiful face that was quite strikingly lovely for a few moments before she murmured, ‘Yes, the perfect match.’

CHAPTER TWO

ESSIE felt ridiculously like an escaped convict on the run or some other kind of ne’er-do-well as she skulked back into the Blue Baron half an hour after Xavier had left the wedding reception, keeping an eye out for a tall dark Canadian as she did so.

She had grilled Janice on all the other girl knew about Xavier Grey before she had said goodbye, but had learnt little more than Janice had already told her. Christine’s cousin had said that Xavier’s branch of Charlie’s family had moved out to Canada before Xavier was born, but apparently Xavier had business links in England. And he was a self-made man; Janice had been quite emphatic on that point. A rags-to-riches story, by all accounts, she’d told Essie quietly, although her aunt June—the fount of all knowledge—hadn’t had any details.

Once in her hotel room, Essie sank down onto the bed, throwing herself back against the pillows as she contemplated the evening ahead with a groan.

At least she didn’t have to consider what she was going to wear, she thought ruefully. She had only brought a pair of jeans and jumper, a casual day dress and one cocktail number with her, knowing she was only staying overnight. And the first two options were definitely not suitable for a date with Xavier Grey! She groaned again, rolling over onto her face and burying her head in the pillows.

She’d been looking forward to a nice relaxed evening in her room, courtesy of room service and the TV—the train journey up from Sussex had meant an excruciatingly early start, to arrive at Christine’s parents’ home mid-morning—and now, due to her own foolishness, she admitted reluctantly, she was committed to an encounter that would be neither nice nor relaxed! She didn’t dare to consider Xavier’s reaction when she told him who she really was.

Still, she wasn’t sorry. She jerked herself upright, walked over to the full-length mirror in one corner of the room and looked at the reflection that stared out at her. The deep blue eyes were stormy and her soft, full mouth was pulled tight, and now she threw back the mass of gold curls that had escaped the knot she had bundled them into on leaving the wedding reception, and surveyed herself critically.

Okay, so she was slender and not particularly tall, and her colouring and physical appearance might not be the most robust for a veterinary surgeon, but she was damn good at her job—as she was proving every day at the small practice in Sussex where she worked. Brute strength wasn’t everything. She scowled at the image in the mirror. And even if the majority of the practice’s cases were domestic there were still some occasions when the animals were pretty ferocious, like that Great Dane a few weeks ago that had objected to being examined. The owner had all but disappeared and she had been left facing a gigantic pair of jaws that stated quite clearly its anal glands were its own concern.

She smiled at the memory, in spite of herself. She was fond of Monty and normally the massive Great Dane was putty in her hands, but he had suffered a number of undignified examinations in quick succession due to his problem and, that particular day, he had decided he had to assert himself.

Still, she’d rather take on ten Montys than one Xavier Grey. The thought dimmed her smile and straightened her mouth again.

A bath. She needed a few relaxed moments in a hot bath. She glanced at her watch and saw she had another forty-five minutes before zero hour. And after her bath she’d moisturise and paint and titivate herself and try to work up some sort of courage for the night ahead.

At exactly half-past eight, when Essie walked out of the lift into the reception area of the Blue Baron, she looked every inch the elegant, sophisticated woman of the world and not at all like the young, girlish bridesmaid she had seemed earlier.

The reasons for this were manifold—one, the delicate, up-swept hairstyle that confined her curls in an exquisite arrangement at the back of her head, allowing the long sweep of her neck its true grace. Two, her careful make-up, tasteful and refined, that enhanced the allure of her deep blue eyes and creamy clear skin. Three, the savoir-faire of her chic cocktail dress in midnight-blue silk with matching jacket—bought at a Sussex clothes shop which specialised in couturier, nearly-new clothes at a fraction of the original price. Four, her determination that she was going to match Xavier Grey every inch of the way tonight and leave, if not in a blaze of glory, then at least with her head held high.

And there were more reasons, some of which Essie was only faintly aware of herself, that were steeling her backbone and putting iron resolve in her spirit.

She had thought the fact that she emerged from the lift inside the hotel would preclude any further misunderstanding between them as to her identity, and that might well have been the case if Xavier hadn’t been deep in conversation with one of the hotel reception staff and missed her appearance.

As it was, he raised his head just in time to see her almost at his side, and she caught the flash of surprise in the silver-blue eyes just before he said, ‘Janice, I’m so pleased you could come. Our table is booked for nine but perhaps you would care for a cocktail first?’

A cocktail—the giddy empty-head was being allowed a cocktail, was she? ‘Thank you.’ She was all coolness and aplomb tonight and she knew it had thrown him. ‘That would be lovely.’

He led her into the hotel cocktail lounge with his hand at her elbow, and she tried not to think about how delicious he had looked in that first moment she had seen him. He had dressed up, as had she, and the black dinner suit and snowy-white shirt and bow-tie had made her heart pound. It was still pounding. It didn’t seem as if it would ever stop pounding.

‘What would you like?’

As she perched elegantly on one of the bar stools, she allowed a full ten seconds to pass by before she glanced his way, and then her voice was serene and self-possessed when she said, ‘Oh, a gin sling I think.’

‘A good choice; I’ll join you.’

Once he had given the order to the bartender—a Tom Cruise look-alike—Xavier turned the full intensity of his ice-blue gaze on her as he said, his voice thoughtful, ‘You look different tonight, Janice. Older, more…cosmopolitan.’

‘Do I?’ She arched her eyebrows at him but there was going to be no batting of eyelashes tonight. Tonight she was going to be every inch the twenty-eight-year-old, career-minded, strong woman she really was! ‘Well, I’ve never thought first impressions were the best to go by, Xavier.’ She smiled coolly. ‘They can be so misleading, don’t you think?’

‘On occasion.’ The narrowed gaze eyed her contemplatively.

Did he know how it made him look when he half shut his eyes like that? Essie asked herself silently. His maleness was emphasised a hundred times, bringing a rawness to his attractiveness that was a killer. But of course he knew! She answered the unspoken question in the next breath, her thoughts astringent. It was all part of the grand seduction scene. She had told herself in the first moments of meeting him that Xavier Grey wouldn’t conduct a liaison in the back seat of his car, and how right she had been. First the dinner, then the hotel room—she’d read him like an open book.

‘What’s the matter?’ Xavier asked with an abruptness that took Essie by surprise.

‘The matter?’ she prevaricated uneasily.

‘What made you look like that just then?’

Oh, help; oh, help. She looked back into the strong-boned face and she saw the cleanly sculpted mouth and square jaw were set in stubborn mode. He wasn’t going to be diverted, the body language was quite clear, but suddenly everything in Essie rebelled as unwelcome memories of another strong man—who had all but broken her heart and her spirit—came rushing in.

‘Nothing.’ She raised her chin as she spoke and met the silver-blue gaze head-on. ‘I’m absolutely fine.’ Then, as the barman produced two frosted fluted glasses, she turned to the young man gratefully, her voice laughing as she said, ‘Wow. Now that’s what I call a cocktail.’

‘And it will taste as good as it looks, ma’am.’ The good-looking face smiled back at her, frankly appreciative of the beauty of the woman in front of him. He had all sorts in his bar during the average week, but this one was something special.

‘I’m sure it will.’ Essie dimpled at him and then sipped at the cocktail. It was strong, and delicious. ‘It’s lovely. Thank you,’ she said smilingly.

Xavier had watched the little exchange without saying a word but now he reached for his own glass and Essie saw his face was expressionless. ‘Excellent.’ He gave his own commendation to the young man. ‘You’ve got the mix just right; there are some people who drown the sloe gin.’

‘Not me, sir.’ The barman grinned happily before turning away as another customer claimed his attention.

‘Shall we?’ Xavier indicated a quiet table for two in a corner of the room with a wave of his hand, and Essie slid off the stool reluctantly. It had seemed safer at the bar, if only because it was delaying the inevitable moment when she had to admit her deception.

They were just about to walk across the room when a sudden squeal of delight made Xavier freeze. Essie heard him groan slightly but then, as a tall, elegant redhead and a very good-looking young man with a shock of black hair hailed them from the doorway, he raised a hand in reply. Essie recognised them from the wedding reception but she had no idea who they were—although that was soon rectified as the redhead strode determinedly across to them, dragging her partner with her.

‘Xavier, how lovely! Have you eaten yet?’ she asked brightly. ‘They’ve just fitted us in for nine.’

‘I thought you and Harper were going out with some of the English relatives?’ Xavier answered the woman with a question and he didn’t bother to hide his irritation.

‘We were.’ The redhead smiled at Essie as she spoke, her blue eyes frankly curious. ‘But Harper didn’t feel too well earlier so we decided to give it a miss. He’s feeling heaps better now, though, aren’t you, darling?’

She smiled up into Harper’s face before she continued, ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us, Xavier?’ as she held out her hand to Essie.

‘Janice, this is Candy and Harper. Harper and Candy—Janice.’ Xavier’s tone was very dry as he added, ‘Candy is my niece and Harper is her fiancé.’

‘Your niece?’ Essie tried not to sound surprised but she didn’t manage it very well, as Candy’s next words indicated.

‘I know what you’re thinking but my mother, Xavier’s sister, had me when she was very young,’ Candy said quickly.

Essie smiled and nodded but didn’t pursue the conversation. She sensed there was something here that the other girl found difficult and she didn’t want to embarrass her; besides which, she was hoping the other two wouldn’t join them, even though she had instinctively warmed to Xavier’s niece. She had to tell him as soon as possible—and an audience was the last thing she needed. He had already introduced her as Janice, as it was, and now she was feeling acutely uncomfortable and more than a little guilty.

There was a moment or two of silence and then Xavier said, his tone resigned, ‘Would you care to join us for an aperitif?’

‘If that’s all right?’ Candy’s tone was subdued now; she had obviously clicked onto the fact that her uncle was less than pleased to see them.

‘Of course it is.’ Essie’s voice was warm. There was something almost vulnerable about Xavier’s niece; Essie couldn’t quite explain it, but she felt that behind the lovely façade of clear translucent skin, vivid blue eyes and wonderful chestnut-red hair the other girl wasn’t quite so confident as she appeared, and Essie forgot all her previous thoughts about being alone with Xavier as she aimed to make the young couple feel welcome.

And so it continued through the evening. When they all walked through into the restaurant, it seemed natural for Candy and Harper to join them, especially as their tables were next to each other and only took a moment to put together.

The meal was wonderful, all five courses of it, the wine undoubtedly expensive, and Xavier was an excellent host—courteous, amusing and urbane. But behind the cultured, suave exterior Essie sensed he was watching them all in the same way a scientist examined something he found interesting. He gave nothing of himself away.

As soon as the thought hit, she knew it was the truth. Xavier was the epitome of the cool, controlled ice-man, however light and witty his conversation, and however much that sexy, sensual mouth smiled. Sexy and sensual? She caught herself up sharply, irritated she’d noticed. He wasn’t sexy or sensual or anything else—he was simply the enemy, as far as she was concerned, and she’d better remember that. Once she’d told him—if they ever got to be alone for a moment or two—it would be wise to beat a hasty retreat. This was not a man to mess with.

They lingered over their liqueur coffees—the rich, brandy-flavoured coffee topped with whipped cream was the best Essie had tasted and the pianist who had been playing a medley of songs while the diners ate was excellent—but then, after Xavier had insisted the meal was his treat to Harper, the other two rose to leave.

‘Thanks, Xavier.’ Candy leant forward and touched her uncle’s arm with a smile.

Essie found herself asking—although she hadn’t meant to, ‘You don’t call him Uncle, then?’

‘Uncle?’ Candy grinned. ‘With only ten years between us? Besides, I’ve never thought of Xavier as an uncle; he’s the big brother I never had.’ There was real affection in the lovely blue eyes and, as Xavier glanced at his niece, Essie saw a softness to his smile she hadn’t seen before. And it hurt. Ridiculously, irrationally, it hurt like mad, because she knew he would never look at her like that. In fact, once she told him the truth, she didn’t dare to think how he would look.

But she didn’t want him to look at her like that, anyway! Good grief, it was the last thing she wanted! What on earth was she thinking of? The protests came, fierce and strong, and such was her agitation that she let her napkin slip under the table so she could bend down and retrieve it and compose her face again.

She loathed his type of man! She loathed him; he was a typical male chauvinist with a grossly exaggerated idea of himself. Okay, so this evening had been fun—she had to admit she’d enjoyed herself, in spite of everything—but that was because he was in entertainment mode, that was all. The real man was still there, under the façade of smooth dinner companion. He was a control freak, like the rest of his kind.

Essie had accepted a brandy when the other two had declined—not because she wanted one, but because it would give her an opportunity to talk to Xavier with other people around, and she had the feeling she would need their unsuspecting support. And now, as Xavier settled back into his chair, his powerful chest muscles flexing under the thin white silk of his shirt—the jacket long since discarded on the back of his chair—she took a quick sip of the fine thirty-year-old spirit as she contemplated how to start.

‘Don’t you ever relax?’

‘What?’ The deep, husky voice had been very soft and now Essie stared straight at him, her eyes narrowing warily. This was the start of the seduction programme, was it? The one that had been put on hold when his niece and her fiancé had joined them so unexpectedly.

‘You’ve been on edge all evening. I could almost feel the waves coming off you,’ he drawled lazily, ‘and you were the same this afternoon, but in a different way.’

He was too perceptive by half. She watched his eyes wander over her face and she knew he was doing it deliberately, his gaze pausing on the soft swell of her lips until she could feel them tingle as though he had kissed her.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said tightly. She was going to tell him, she was, but in her own way, and certainly not defending herself at the same time.

‘You’re like several different women under the same skin,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘and you change from one to the other like a nervous little chameleon. Why are you so guarded tonight, Janice? Is it me in particular you’re chary of, or all men?’

This had gone quite far enough and, in view of his comments, there would never be a better opportunity to tell him he had made a mistake—a big mistake—this afternoon, she thought feverishly. And then he completely took the wind out of her sails and had her floundering for words when he leant forward, his hard dark face amazingly tender, and said, ‘You’re a phoney, Janice Beaver. All this wild living and seeking of attention—that’s not the real girl. Has someone hurt you? Is that it? Whatever he did, whatever happened, he’s not worth messing up your life for. Believe me, I know.’

‘Xavier, please.’ This was awful, terrible. He was making her feel so guilty. She took a deep breath, her nostrils flaring, and removed her hand from where it was resting under his before she said, ‘This isn’t like you think.’

‘Someone did hurt you, didn’t they?’ It was as though he hadn’t heard her. ‘And badly.’

She wished she’d never started this. She swallowed deeply, the tension making her voice brittle as she said, ‘That’s nothing to do with this and it was a long time ago.’

‘Time’s relative and it might help to talk about it.’

She had to explain who she was. She took another deep breath, the elusive and very male scent of him teasing her nostrils as he leant even closer, his silvery eyes reflecting a shaft of light from the discreetly placed lamp above their table, and she had just opened her mouth to begin, to tell him, when the pianist stopped playing and instead spoke into his microphone, reading from a card one of the waiters had just given him.

‘Sorry to interrupt the flow, ladies and gentlemen, but there is an urgent call for Miss Esther Russell. If Miss Russell is here, perhaps she would make her presence known or make her way to Reception.’

‘Janice?’ Xavier’s voice brought her startled eyes back to his. ‘Don’t let him win, don’t let him ruin your life, because that’s what’ll happen if you’re not careful.’

‘I have to go to Reception.’ Essie’s voice was slightly hysterical but she couldn’t believe this was happening. It was like a black comedy, a dark farce.

‘Reception?’ And then his brows drew together as he said, ‘Esther Russell? Isn’t that the girl you were bridesmaid with today? Is she in the hotel, then? Do you know where she is?’

‘She—she is me,’ Essie stammered ungrammatically.

‘She’s you?’ He stared at her as though she had lost her mind and maybe she had, Essie thought wildly. Perhaps that explained why she had been so incredibly stupid as to think she could take Xavier Grey on and win.

‘Look, I must answer that call.’ She rose as she spoke and he rose with her, his manners impeccable even in the midst of all the confusion. ‘Please, you stay here.’ She couldn’t have him standing over her while she spoke into the telephone; she wouldn’t be coherent. ‘I’ll be back in a few moments, I promise, and then I’ll explain properly, but…but I’m Esther Russell and the call is probably to do with my work and it’ll be important. I…I have to go.’

He nodded, somehow giving the impression that he hadn’t moved a muscle at the same time, and she gave him one last helpless look before fairly flying out of the restaurant.

Oh, it couldn’t have all gone more wrong, she told herself frantically as she hurried over to the reception desk, and what on earth was this call about? It could only be Jamie or Peter, and they would never have bothered her unless there was some sort of disaster—but for the life of her she couldn’t think what.

‘Essie?’ It was Peter Hargreaves, who owned the small town practice where she worked, and his voice was both apologetic and frustrated. ‘Essie, I’m sorry to bother you on your weekend off and at this time of night, but it’s urgent. That case you’ve been dealing with, Colonel Llewellyn’s hunter? Well, the horse has taken a turn for the worse and I think I need to operate, but I can’t find the case history. The animal’s worth a fortune and you know how much the Colonel thinks of him—he treats him better than he does his wife, and I dare not leave anything to chance. I need to be fully acquainted with everything you’ve done so far and the strengths of the medication he’s on, all of it. The damn computer’s down and I can’t find the hard-copy file. Any ideas?’

Essie wrinkled her brow. They rarely bothered with the hard-copy files—Peter had an excellent computer system that was both efficient and fast—but there was always the odd occasion, like this one, when old methods came into their own.

‘It’s not in the filing cabinet, obviously, else you wouldn’t be ringing me.’ Essie thought for a moment. ‘Have you asked Jamie if he knows?’

‘He’s out at Sanderson’s farm: his daughter’s pony’s sick, and you know old man Sanderson. He must be the one person in the whole of creation not to own a phone,’ Peter said tersely. ‘Silly old blighter. It’s a hell of a way there, with the Colonel’s place in the opposite direction, and I might miss Jamie anyway.’

‘You say he’s gone to deal with Jenny Sanderson’s pony?’ Essie asked quickly.

‘Yes. It sounded like it had colic, which was what we thought the Colonel’s hunter had, but—’

Essie thought rapidly. She knew Jamie’s habit of slinging every scrap of paper that ever came his way into the huge bottom drawer of his desk until it became too full to close—it didn’t matter what it was: letters, cheques, circulars, reports—they all went in. ‘Could Jamie have got the Colonel’s file out before he went to the Sanderson farm?’ she asked carefully. ‘If the symptoms were similar, he might have checked that file first, in case it proved the two cases were linked.’

‘You think he’s taken the damn file with him?’ her boss growled furiously.

She hoped not, oh, she did hope not, because Jamie had been in hot water more than once lately for his cavalier attitude to paperwork and records.

Essie crossed her fingers and said rapidly, ‘I’m sure he hasn’t but he might have looked at it and, if he was in a hurry to get to the farm, put it in the bottom drawer of his desk for quickness until he got back.’

‘He’d better not have, not with the computer down. Hang on a minute, Essie, and I’ll check.’

The silence at the other end of the telephone made Essie aware of her surroundings again and, as she glanced across the thickly carpeted, luxurious reception area towards the big glass doors through which the restaurant was located, she felt her stomach turn right over. Xavier was going to be mad. He was going to be absolutely livid, she told herself weakly.

‘Essie?’ It was Peter’s voice again and now she jerked her attention back to the matter in hand. ‘I’ve got it. The young fool’s got everything but the kitchen sink in that drawer. You wouldn’t believe it.’

She would.

There was the sound of rustling paper and then Peter said, ‘Yep, I can see exactly what you’ve done and it’s fine, just fine. Right, I’ll take it from here and I’m really sorry to have bothered you, Essie. How did the wedding go?’

It was very much an afterthought and Peter was clearly anxious to get out to the Colonel’s place, so Essie kept her answer brief. ‘Very well, thanks, Peter. Look, I shan’t leave till about ten in the morning, so if you need me at any time before then, please ring. Okay?’

‘Thanks, Essie, but I’ll be fine now I’ve got the records. Jamie’s a damn good vet but he’s going to have to pull his socks up in certain areas.’ There was a brief pause and then he said, ‘Goodbye for now. You carry on enjoying yourself and I’ll see you on Monday.’

‘All right, Peter. Goodnight.’

Enjoying herself. Essie stood for a moment more before she put the telephone down and thanked the receptionist. Enjoying herself wasn’t quite the term she would have used…

Xavier’s dark presence seemed to fill the whole restaurant when Essie stepped back into the quiet surroundings some moments later. It all looked the same—the pianist was still playing, the other diners were quietly enjoying the excellent food, the odd hum of conversation and genteel laugh adding to the overall gentle ambience of the hushed room; but there, in the distance, was Xavier.

She hardly knew how to walk as she approached their table; she was vitally aware of the narrowed gaze trained on her face and the grimness that was reflected in every line of his big frame, but then she was sliding into her seat and looking straight into the icy countenance.

‘Well?’ One word—but more telling than any tirade.

‘I’m sorry.’ It was little more than a whisper.

‘Not good enough. Not nearly good enough.’ He stared at her for a moment more before saying, his voice biting, ‘You’re telling me you are Esther Russell, have I got that straight? Which means you are Christine’s best friend, not her cousin, and you’re a veterinary surgeon?’ The tone held a note of incredulity even the cold rage couldn’t quite hide, and that, more than anything else, put steel in Essie’s backbone. He still thought it was virtually impossible that she was an intelligent, successful and capable human being, she thought furiously.

‘Yes, that’s right.’ Her head was up and her chin was out and further thoughts of apology were out of the question.

‘So how old are you?’ he asked tightly.

‘Twenty-eight.’ It was a little snap. And then, before he could say anything else, she added, ‘And all this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been so darn rude.’

‘What?’ His bark brought a number of heads turning towards their table and, as Xavier became aware of the attention and glared back at the unfortunate diners, heads were quickly lowered to their plates. ‘I really don’t believe you just said that,’ he growled savagely. ‘You spin me a pack of lies and then you tell me it’s my fault?’

‘I didn’t spin you a pack of lies, not really,’ Essie shot back quickly. ‘You came to me, remember, and stated a number of things before I even opened my mouth. You assumed I was Janice; you lectured me on my lifestyle, my morals, everything, and we hadn’t even been introduced!’

‘You lied to me.’

‘I merely went along with your assumptions, that’s all. And, while we’re on the subject, they were pretty insulting,’ Essie said bitterly. ‘You looked at Janice and you looked at me, and in your mind there was no doubt about which of the two bridesmaids was the hopeful budding actress leading a somewhat wild lifestyle. You hadn’t spoken to either of us, you didn’t know us from Adam, and yet you labelled me a dumb little blonde. Right or wrong?’

‘This is crazy!’ Dark colour flared across the hard cheekbones and Essie had never seen someone look so furious in all her life. There was certainly no vestige of the cool, controlled ice-man left, she thought somewhat hysterically. The man in front of her was positively smouldering with fury.

‘Right or wrong?’ she ground out determinedly, refusing to be intimidated, even though her stomach was churning and her hands were damp with perspiration.

‘Wrong,’ he snarled grimly. ‘If I had thought you were just a dumb little blonde, I wouldn’t have asked you out tonight.’

‘Whatever you say, however you try and turn this round, you know full well I’m right,’ Essie said proudly, staring right back into the angry male face as she forced her fear and panic back down into the hidden depths of her. ‘I admit I shouldn’t have continued what you started—’ here Xavier, who had just taken a swig of his brandy, nearly choked ‘—but it was too good an opportunity to miss, if you want the truth.’

‘The truth? You don’t know the meaning of the word.’

‘Actually, I do.’ Violet-blue eyes held iced silver and neither would give way. Essie was conscious of the cry deep inside her that was saying she hadn’t wanted it to be like this, that she should have told him before, should have set things straight as soon as she had seen him tonight to prevent just such an occurrence as this; but it was too late now for regrets. ‘I’m a very honest person normally, but your arrogance annoyed me, if you want to know.’

‘My arrogance?’ he ground out with dangerous calm.

He looked as though he couldn’t believe his ears and perhaps he couldn’t, Essie thought faintly; it was quite likely no one had ever spoken to him like this in his life.

‘Yes, your arrogance,’ she said a little shakily. ‘You were pompous and high-handed and unforgivably rude, and you had absolutely no right to assume anything about me—or Janice, if it comes to that. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, Xavier Grey. No one has given me anything ever, but I’m a damn good vet. And I don’t appreciate any label—whatever it is—by someone who doesn’t know me. Is that clear?’

‘Abundantly.’

He had settled back in his seat during her quietly spoken tirade, the laser-sharp gaze assessing the angry young woman in front of him, and now the cool, sardonic tinge to his voice was incredibly galling.

‘And you can cut the lordly disdain,’ Essie fired back angrily, ‘because it doesn’t wash with me. I don’t care how rich or how powerful you are—you’re still ill-mannered and presumptuous and—’

‘You’re going to run out of adjectives before long,’ he said expressionlessly, his face now betraying nothing of what he was thinking. And the discipline he had brought into play, the regaining of that icy control and cool restraint, told Essie she had to get out of there fast before she further compounded her sins by flinging the contents of her brandy glass straight into that implacable countenance.

‘Goodbye, Mr. Grey.’ She rose abruptly, her face as white as a sheet but her voice firm. ‘And I shall settle the account for my own dinner, thank you.’

‘Now you’re being boorish.’ It was a soft, low Canadian drawl and had Essie’s hands clenching at her sides as her innate British sense of propriety warred with the red-hot desire to see Xavier Grey with brandy dripping off the end of his nose. The natural reserve won, but it was a close thing.

Essie was very aware of the subdued interest of the surrounding tables as she turned to leave, but it was the silver-blue eyes boring into the middle of her back that kept her stride measured and controlled as she left the restaurant with her head held high.

The control held until she reached her room, but, once she had closed the door behind her, she sank down onto the thick blue carpet. Her legs refused to hold her any longer.

How could she have said all that? She pressed her hands to her burning cheeks as she swayed back and forth in a little heap on the floor. Not that he hadn’t deserved it—he had—but she wasn’t normally like this, for goodness’ sake. He brought out the very worst in her, she reflected miserably. In fact, there was a whole side of her nature that had seemed to develop over the last few hours that was positively alarming.

She continued to sit for a few moments more, leaning back against the door as her mind went over every word and action that had happened below in the restaurant. And then she leapt up from the floor, walking over to the telephone and picking it up with a hand that trembled slightly.

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