скачать книгу бесплатно
If he hadn’t touched her then perhaps she might have been able to rein in her temper, get a grip on her self-control, but with the pressure of those strong fingers on her skin, sending electrical impulses shooting through every nerve, it seemed as if something had exploded inside her head, threatening to blow off the top of her skull.
Her vision hazed and she didn’t see Evan Lindsay as a man but as the personification of the male force—big and dark and ominously threatening.
‘No need! You creep in here—’
‘I said, calm down!’
He actually shook her—not hard, but firmly enough to drive the message home, sweeping the panic from her mind and replacing it with a calmer, more logical way of thinking.
‘You were a long time getting the coffee, and your father seemed concerned so I came to see if you needed any help. I wasn’t creeping around anywhere!’ he added more emphatically. ‘It isn’t my fault if you were so lost in a dream world that you didn’t hear me come into the room.’
If she needed bringing back down to reality, then the look in those cold, sea-coloured eyes was enough to do just that. It was like having a bucketful of icy water thrown straight into her face, and it shocked her out of her panic without a second’s hesitation, leaving her gasping in reaction.
‘I—I’m sorry,’ she said stiffly. ‘I was—thinking of something else.’
‘Obviously,’ was the sardonic response. ‘And something none too pleasant from the looks of things. Just what—?’
But Catherine had remembered exactly what she had been thinking in the moment that he had come up behind her, and with that half-formed fear of him still shadowing her mind she wasn’t prepared to reveal any of her innermost feelings to him.
‘My thoughts are my own, Mr Lindsay,’ she returned tartly. ‘I’ll thank you not to poke your nose in where it’s not wanted.’
‘Fine.’ The single syllable was cold and curt, like the smile that he switched on and off as briefly as a flashing neon sign.
It was only when he let go of her hands that she realised he had still held them, the jarring abruptness of the movement as her arms fell to her sides aggravating her already disturbed state of mind. But she was totally unprepared for the devastating and bewildering sense of loss that ripped through her as cold air reached the spot where the warm strength of his hands had been only seconds before, so that it was all she could do to keep herself from crying out in distress.
‘Would you like some help with the tray, or would that be an invasion of your precious privacy too?’
‘What? Oh, no-’
Catherine struggled to regain some composure, feeling as if the tattered shreds of her self-control were fluttering wildly round her like the remains of some torn and ragged garment.
‘Thanks—that would be kind…’
Her voice faded as Evan moved forward, coming into the full glare of the fluorescent light for the first time, his features being thrown into harsh relief as if someone had directed a spotlight full on to his face.
He was definitely not a pretty man, or even a handsome one, she reflected privately. That strongly carved bone-structure was too harsh, too forceful to be described in any such way. He was a very tough-looking man—a man whose face seemed to be carved out of hard, unpolished wood, all knots and angles and…
‘What happened to your nose?’ The question escaped before she had time to consider whether it was wise to show an interest in such a personal matter.
‘My nose?’ He looked as startled as she felt to hear the words on her lips. ‘Oh—that?
Strong brown fingers touched the definite bump that marred the straightness in the centre of his face.
‘I broke it.’
‘Obviously.’ She echoed his own sardonic tone of moments before. ‘Any fool can see that—but how did it happen?’
A grin curled the corners of his mouth, mocking her indignation.
‘In the army—on a training exercise.’
The smile grew, became devastating in its megawatt brilliance.
‘I had to climb a rope that I believed had been fastened securely—it hadn’t, and I fell—hard. Result—one broken nose and a badly bruised ego. Needless to say, I never trust myself to anything without double-checking now.’
‘You were in the army? When? For how long?’
‘A couple of years. I went in straight from school. My father felt I needed the discipline, and at the time I would have done anything to get away from home. It didn’t last long, though,’ he added drily. ‘Let’s say that the army and I didn’t exactly—suit one another.’
Catherine could well believe it. Even from the little she had seen of Evan she had gained an impression of someone who was too much his own man to submit willingly to the sort of unquestioning routine that was part of army life.
‘And I suppose that’s where you learned about security techniques—I understand that a lot of ex-army men go into that sort of job.’
‘The ones who don’t become night-watchmen or bodyguards.’
He was deliberately probing now; she knew that from the laser-like intensity with which those changeable eyes were fixed on her face. He was echoing her own comment earlier, wanting to push her into explaining.
‘We’d better get this coffee through to the lounge before it gets cold,’ she said, carefully ignoring his pushing. ‘Dad will be sending out a search-party for me.’
‘Is he always this over-protective?’
The question came deceptively casually, with Evan’s head turned away as he picked up the tray, but it was enough to stop her dead in her tracks, halfway towards the door.
‘What do you mean, “over-protective”?’ Her voice was pitched too high and she struggled to lower it a degree or two. ‘He’s just a normal, caring parent—’
‘Sure…’ Evan’s tone poured scorn on her indignation. ‘Look, honey, I don’t normally jump to conclusions about people, but you two don’t exactly have a run of the mill sort of relationship.’
‘I don’t know what you mean—’
‘No? Then let me tell you about this afternoon. I’ve been working with your father for days, and for some time it’s been obvious that his mind isn’t exactly on his job. Then today I called in at his office to discuss some things I needed to talk over with him. He made it plain that I’d have to make it quick—that he couldn’t be late home—and it wasn’t long before I realised that he wasn’t paying me any attention at all. In fact, his thoughts were miles away. In the end he just gave up pretending to listen and suggested that we continued our discussion at his home.’
‘So what’s wrong with that? Dad often brings work home if it’s late.’
‘It was barely five o’clock. His secretary hadn’t even finished work for the day, but Lloyd Davies, the boss of the whole outfit, says he has to go home—he’s worried about his daughter.’
The disturbing note in Evan’s voice scraped over Catherine’s exposed nerves, worsening their already raw sensitivity, and she found it impossible to meet that probing, searching gaze, concentrating instead on smoothing and folding a crumpled teatowel that lay on the draining-board, arranging it with over-meticulous care.
‘Naturally, I assumed from his concern that his daughter was a young girl—school-age at most, maybe even younger—so you can imagine my surprise when I find she’s not a child but a fully grown woman of twenty-six, someone well old enough—’
‘My father and I are very close,’ Catherine broke in on him, unable to face the prospect of the inevitable questions that she knew were coming. ‘It’s probably because the age-gap between us is so small.’
‘It’s more than that.’
‘Are you implying—?’
‘I’m implying nothing—just curious.’
‘Look, my mother left when I was barely five, and Dad and I have been together ever since. Naturally, we’re very close—very dependent—though I don’t suppose you’d understand that.’
‘And just what is that supposed to mean?’ The very quietness of Evan’s words was ominous, sending a shiver of apprehension down Catherine’s spine.
‘Well, you said you’d joined the army to get away from home. Just because you and your parents—or at least your father—didn’t get on it doesn’t mean you can judge my relationship with Dad by the same standards.’
That was definitely below the belt, she admitted privately, but refused to let herself feel guilty. After all, he had only himself to blame—he had started this line of questioning.
‘And now, if you don’t mind, I think we’ve delayed long enough. I’d like to drink my coffee before it’s completely stone-cold—even if you wouldn’t.’
And, not giving him a chance to say any more, she turned on her heel and marched off down the hall, not daring to look back to see the effect her words had had on him.
She had left him with no option but to follow, but she was pretty certain that Evan Lindsay was not the sort of man to let things rest. And from the expression on his face as he set the tray down on the coffee-table in the lounge she was worryingly aware of the fact that, far from appeasing his curiosity, she had in fact only stirred it further.
Privately she cursed her own nervousness, the tension that had driven her to overreact, responding to his questions in a way that had fuelled his interest, fanning it from a slowly smouldering ember to a brightly burning flame that would not easily be extinguished. Her stomach twisted itself into tight, painful knots of apprehension, anticipating with a terrible sense of inevitability the interrogation that she was sure must come.
She didn’t have to wait long. She had barely had time to pour the coffee and hand a cup to Evan, serving him, as their guest, first, as courtesy demanded, before the moment she had dreaded arrived.
Leaning back in his chair with a deceptively convincing display of relaxed ease, he sipped at his drink, his expression thoughtful, then he turned those turquoise eyes on her face once more, the look in them alerting her to what was to come.
‘It’s been a beautiful week hasn’t it?’ he asked easily, and, taken completely by surprise because she had been expecting something else entirely, Catherine could only manage an inarticulate murmur that might have been agreement.
Her father, however, apparently oblivious to the dark, swirling undercurrents she sensed, nodded enthusiastically.
‘Summer’s finally here, it seems—and not before time. Last month was so wet and miserable—hardly flaming June! But it’s certainly making up for it now.’
‘So it seems.’
Catherine knew that she was actually gaping in confusion. She couldn’t believe her ears. Surely Evan didn’t actually intend to conduct a conversation about the weather?
‘And, of course, the light evenings are a real bonus.’
‘They certainly are.’ The darkly sardonic intonation in Evan’s voice grated on Catherine’s raw nerves.
‘Dad-’
Belatedly she had caught on to the path Evan was following, the way his mind was working, and she tried to inject a note of warning into the single word, signalling to her father with her eyes as she did so. But Lloyd seemed oblivious to her concern.
‘Would you like a biscuit, Mr Lindsay?’ she asked, the words hissing from between clenched teeth as she turned a fulminating glare on him.
‘No thanks,’ he returned blithely. ‘But I would like an explanation.’
‘An explanation?’ Catherine’s father frowned his lack of comprehension.
‘Mr Lindsay seems to think that we’re hiding something, Dad. Either that or we’re quite unnatural simply because we happen to care about each other.’
‘But, Cathy, don’t you think—?’
‘No!’ With difficulty she stopped herself from screaming the word at him. ‘I don’t think we should give Mr Lindsay an explanation of anything—not that there is anything to explain…’ She covered herself hastily and clumsily in nervous response to the gleam of triumph that lit up in Evan’s eyes. ‘And even if there was, then it’s none of his business.’
‘Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong,’ Evan inserted blandly, setting down his coffee-cup and leaning forward to emphasise his point. ‘You see, I think your father made it my business when he invited me here on the pretext of discussing matters that could easily have waited until tomorrow.’
‘Made what your business?’ Catherine made one last attempt at pretending that nothing was wrong.
‘I don’t know yet, but I intend to find out. From the moment that I first set foot in this house, it’s been obvious that something is very wrong.’
‘Oh, come now, Mr Lindsay, surely you’re exaggerating? There’s nothing—’
‘Nothing?’
One dark eyebrow lifted in an expression of mocking disbelief, and Catherine had the uncomfortable feeling that even though Evan hadn’t moved from his chair he had, mentally at least, backed her into a very tight corner indeed.
‘All right, we’ll take things logically,’ he said in a dangerously quiet voice. ‘One—your father’s been like a cat on hot bricks all afternoon—barely listening to a word I’ve said, and certainly not giving his work the concentration it deserved.
‘Two—’ he ticked off each point as he made it, using the outstretched fingers of his left hand ‘—he had to rush home to look after his daughter—at five p.m. A time when even a schoolgirl would be safe in the house— especially with the housekeeper there.
‘But three—this daughter isn’t a child, or even an adolescent—she’s twenty-six, and someone who, by her own admission, normally has a place of her own.’
He didn’t miss a trick, Catherine thought despairingly. He’d even picked up on the fact that she had her own flat. It was no wonder that they hadn’t been able to hide anything from him. Oh, why had her father had to bring this particular man home?
‘Shall I go on?’
When Catherine and her father could only stare at him, unable to find a word to say, Evan nodded silently, his mouth tightening ominously.
‘All right—so you have your own home, but for some reason you’re hiding out at your father’s—’
‘I’m not hiding!’
‘No?’
Once more that raised eyebrow questioned the truth of her outburst.
‘Then why did your father feel it necessary to ring the bell—the bell to his own front door—when he arrived? And why did he call out as soon as he came in, if not to reassure you? Why do you jump like a scalded cat at the slightest sound, any unexpected movement?’
Catherine began to feel as if the quickfire questions were in fact blows to her head, making her reel sickeningly.
‘Why did you turn on me as if I was an intruder from an alien planet when I came up behind you in the kitchen? And—last but not least—why, when it’s the hottest week we’ve had all summer, when the temperatures have finally reached into the twenties and the rest of the country is enjoying the long, warm evenings-gardening, having barbecues, or simply sitting outside soaking up the sun—do you have every single curtain in every damn room pulled so tightly closed that a beam of light couldn’t get through if it tried?
‘Either one of you is a vampire and will shrivel up in the heat of the sun, or there’s some other, more disturbing reason for this obsession with privacy.’
He stopped at last, looking straight at both of them in much the same way that the counsel for the prosecution would survey the accused, Catherine reflected miserably, knowing that there was no way she could deny his assessment of events. His case was watertight—and he knew it.
‘So now,’ Evan continued more slowly, sea-green eyes fixed on her face in a way that made her feel worryingly certain that he could see right through her head and read everything that was in her mind, ‘are you going to stop playing silly games and tell me just what all this is about?’
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_3f4217ad-f527-51cf-a79a-303eeb2e5aa2)
‘WELL?’
The single, harsh syllable fell into the stunned silence that was the only response Catherine and her father could make to the clear and terrifyingly accurate assessment of the situation he had just given them. There really wasn’t any way they could possibly argue against it, she reflected unhappily.
‘Well?’ he repeated, more emphatically this time.
