Katie had not thought of that. ‘Oh.’
‘Tell me about this advertisement,’ he said in a neutral tone.
Katie grimaced, remembering. ‘I thought I was really lucky to find it.’ She was unconscious of the wistfulness in her voice.
The man’s eyes sharpened. ‘Why?’
‘Well, I’ve only been in London nine months but I’ve lived in six different places—not counting the floors I’ve slept on in between,’ she said ruefully. ‘The last one was a shared flat in Clapham.’
‘The place you moved out of today?’
She nodded.
He said slowly, ‘What went wrong?’
‘Oh, the usual,’ said Katie bitterly. ‘It was great for a while. Lots of fun. We had great laughs together. Then one of the girls started an affair with another one’s boyfriend and it all fell apart. Sex,’ she added, ‘can be a great mistake. ’
Quite suddenly, the man’s lips twitched. It made him look horridly sexy, Katie thought. On top of everything else, it wasn’t fair. She looked away.
He said gravely, ‘Which one were you?’
She was startled into looking him in the eyes. ‘What?’
‘The betrayer or the betrayed?’ he explained.
‘Oh.’ Katie gave a choke of startled laughter. ‘Neither. Much worse than that.’
His eyebrows flew up. ‘Worse?’
‘I was the one they were still both talking to,’ she said drily.
Haydon bit back a smile. ‘I see,’ he said gravely. ‘Exhausting.’
‘You can say that again.’
Between the weeping, the hurt pride, the recriminations and the unpaid bills, Katie had been at her wits’ end. All she had wanted was to find somewhere, anywhere, to live on her own once more.
That was when she had seen the advertisement. A reliable person was wanted to live in a South London house and care for the garden while the owner was abroad for three months. The house was a comfortable walk or a short bus ride from the school where she taught. She did not know anything about gardening but, heck, there was always the public library. It had seemed like the answer to a prayer.
Some of this she told him. She would have been surprised and annoyed if she had guessed how much she did not tell him that he still managed to piece together.
‘Did Lisa Harding take any references at all?’ He sounded resigned.
Katie shrugged. ‘She has a brother who takes jobs in Khirgistan at forty-eight hours’ notice, an accident-prone son and a ball committee to chair. I got the impression she was glad to find anybody.’
He nodded. ‘I’m sure she was. So—no references.’ He looked at her curiously. ‘Are you intending to stay there alone?’
‘Yes,’ said Katie firmly. She had had more than enough of the complications of sharing.
‘Aren’t you worried about the responsibility?’ His glance managed not to be disparaging—but only just. ‘You’re very young.’
‘Twenty-four,’ said Katie hastily. ‘And, no, I’m used to responsibility.’
‘Twenty-four?’ He was taken aback. ‘You look younger.’
Katie frowned. She knew she looked younger. It worried her sometimes. On other occasions—like now—it just annoyed her. She pulled herself together and gave him her most confident smile.
‘I can hack it.’
He pursed his lips. ‘Ever been a householder before? All those squats. It doesn’t sound very responsible.’
‘They weren’t squats.’ Katie was indignant. ‘And you have no idea how responsible I can be.’
He gave a sudden laugh. ‘I hope so. We’re a very responsible neighbourhood. You’re going to be the youngest resident by a generation.’
That was what Lisa Harding had said when she’d warned her about the neurotic millionaire. Katie had been blithe. The house-sitting job had seemed like a gift from heaven. At last her luck had changed, she’d thought.
And now here she was, sitting in the mad millionaire’s sitting room opposite someone who was showing every sign of trying to get her thrown out of her refuge. She was bruised, scratched and her dignity was in tatters. To say nothing of a deeper shock which she did not even want to think about until she was on her own.
Same old luck back again, Katie thought. Was it even worth fighting back?
His lips twitched suddenly. ‘Too young. No experience. No stability. No references,’ he said. He started to swing one leg. ‘I shall have to see to it myself, obviously. What’s your name?’
Katie jumped. ‘What’s yours?’ she retorted.
He gave her an odd look. ‘We are not discussing me.’
Katie made up her mind. Fighting back was her only option.
‘Nor me,’ she said pleasantly. She stood up. ‘I’m sorry if I did any damage when I fell over the wall. That’s all I’m prepared to say. And now I’m going.’
The man did not move. He did not try to dissuade her. Nor did he threaten her. He just looked at her.
Katie found it unnerving. Especially as she had the feeling he was the sort of man people did not normally walk out on. He swung his foot and surveyed her thoughtfully.
‘Goodbye,’ said Katie again. It sounded childishly defiant.
He yawned. ‘How do you propose getting back into the Mackenzies’ house?’
Katie was disconcerted. She had not thought as far ahead as that. He smiled.
‘More breaking and entering? Or do you happen to have a key about your person?’
He submitted her to a lazy inspection which made Katie realise exactly how thin and old her tee shirt was and how very brief were her shorts. She stuffed a hand into her pocket in pure reflex action. But all it brought out was an unrecognisable handkerchief. She had been using it as a painting rag back in that other dimension of time, before she’d climbed the lilac tree and found herself face to face with an enemy.
The enemy’s smile widened. ‘Not very practical, is it?’ he said gently.
Katie lifted her chin. ‘I could go back the way I came.’
‘Not without my agreement,’ he pointed out. ‘Probably not without my help, either.’
Katie’s stomach lurched unexpectedly. The way he was looking at her reminded her that she had twigs in her hair and that grass cuttings clung to her long bare legs. And that he had touched them. And more.
Oh, no, she was not just face to face with the enemy. She had been in his arms. Going quietly wild. As he knew. As she would never, now, be able to forget he knew. Stranger though he was, he now knew things about her that nobody else did. Including one thing that Katie had not even known herself until he touched her.
She wanted to scream with fury at the unfairness. She wanted to run and hide from the humiliation of it. She wanted to blot it out of her mind and go back to the time when it had not happened. None of that was possible.
Up to now she had been hanging on to moderation for all she was worth. Suddenly the effort was too much. All common sense, all humour left her.
She said in a low, deadly voice, ‘I don’t want any help from you. Not now. Not ever.’
CHAPTER THREE
HE WAS unimpressed. ‘I’m sure you don’t. That’s hardly the point.’
Katie tried to put the corrosive humiliation out of her mind and concentrate on her anger. ‘The point is I want to leave this house.’
His mouth slanted. ‘No, you don’t,’ he said softly.
She drew a sharp, indignant breath. ‘Yes, I do. Now.’
He flung his hands out wide. ‘Then who’s stopping you?’
Katie had no answer.
He unwound himself from the desk and strolled over to her. The sense of his physical power beat at her like a flame. Katie stood her ground but it was an act of will to do so. She tilted her face up to his defiantly.
‘Don’t think you can bully me. I—’
He silenced her by the simple expedient of putting his thumb on her lower lip. Katie gasped, choked and fell silent.
Recovering, she swa
tted his hand away blindly. He caught her wrist.
‘No, you don’t want to go at all, my charming burglar.’ He was amused.
He looked down at her, his eyes darkening.
‘Any more than I want you to.’
Less amused, that. In fact there was a feeling Katie recognised roughening the smooth voice. Recognised because she felt it herself. For the first time in her life. Hunger.
She did not know what was happening to her but she was not going to give in to it. She was not.
She said, ‘Touch me again and I’ll be the one calling the police.’
He did not back off, but the warmth died out of his eyes, leaving them cold and oddly hard.
‘Ah. A militant.’
Katie bristled. ‘No. But I know how to take care of myself.’
‘I can see you do,’ he said courteously.
There was something about the way he said it that made Katie uneasy. But before she had time to think, he had taken hold of her and dragged her against him. Her head fell back at an impossible angle. He smiled down into her angry eyes.
‘Then I needn’t have any scruples, need I?’ he said quite gently.
She found it difficult to breathe. ‘Let me go.’ Her voice cracked.
He shook his head. ‘Oh, I don’t think so. If you can take care of yourself, I really don’t need to, do I?’
His eyes, Katie discovered, had gone quite black. In spite of that she had the impression they were molten with fury.
He did not kiss her. Instead, to her dismay, he began to brush the underside of her breast with slow, tantalising strokes. The elderly tee shirt was no protection at all. She could feel the warmth and texture of his fingers as if she were naked. It was hypnotic. If she’d closed her eyes, she could have felt the beating of his blood in his fingertips.
Don’t close your eyes, Katie told herself fiercely, Don’t close your eyes.
But it was something like agony not to. Throat arched, she trembled. His gaze was dispassionate. Katie hated him. But there was nothing she could do to drag herself away from that wickedly clever caress.
What was happening to her? Heaven knows, she was neither a fool nor an innocent. And these last weeks she’d had more practice than she had ever wanted at shaking off unwanted attentions. So why on earth did she not just stop this whole thing dead in its tracks? She felt the questions whirling round in her head. She could not answer any of them.
Instead she stood there, shivering at his practised, indifferent touch.
His hand stilled. He leaned forward until she could feel his breath on her lips. Katie could not help herself. Her whole body contracted in shocking anticipation.
The worst of the whole situation was that he knew exactly what he was doing to her. Of course he knew. She must have made some sound. Or maybe the signs were more subtle and he only saw them because he was expecting them. It would be a deeply shaming thought when she was back in control of herself again.
But for now Katie was not thinking. Not at the moment. Not when his hands, suddenly clumsy, were bunching up the tee shirt, pushing it out of the way so he could touch her bare flesh. At last, at last, he cupped her breast.
This time Katie heard the noise she made. Her arms closed round him as if they had a will of their own. She gave up the struggle. Her eyes drifted shut. Exquisite sensations plucked at her.
She trembled, clinging to him, kissing him as avidly as he was kissing her.
He made no attempt to disguise his arousal. He folded her into his body as if he could not bear a millimetre of space between them. Was it her imagination, or was he trembling too?
They stood together swaying, hot mouths locked.
And the door opened.
‘Good God,’ said a masculine voice blankly.
Katie’s eyes flew open. Over her assailant’s shoulder, she met the horrified gaze of a rumpled-looking man. She gave a squeak of pure embarrassment and tried to haul herself out of the enfolding arms.
In vain. She was too slight and she was off balance. Moreover, her antagonist was paying no attention to her efforts to attract his attention.
The intruder looked appalled. ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll—um—’
Katie wedged her forearm between their bodies and pushed. Hard. They broke apart.
‘What—?’ began the enemy impatiently.
Katie’s cheeks were flying scarlet banners. She wrenched her tee shirt back into place and gestured wordlessly. He looked round.
The rumpled man was backing out of the door. He looked almost as embarrassed as Katie. Only the hateful cause of it all stayed calm. He even looked amused.
‘Andrew.’ He regained his cool so fast, Katie wondered if she had imagined his reaction. He did not look at her. ‘I didn’t hear you. Come in.’
If she’d had a key—or even a step-ladder—she would have gone then. But, as he had so triumphantly pointed out, she had no way of getting back to her own side of the wall without help.
‘No, no.’ The man called Andrew was plainly horrified. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt.’ He heard what he had said and blushed even more deeply. ‘I mean, I didn’t know you’d arrived.’
‘I was in the garden. Until our new next-door neighbour—’ he indicated her with a casual wave ‘—took the opportunity to drop in.’
So he had decided to stop pretending that she was a burglar. Katie should have been relieved. Instead she found she was seething.
‘I see,’ said Andrew, who plainly didn’t.
By dint of concentrating on how much she loathed that superior drawl, Katie managed to bring her colour under control. In fact, she would take the wind out of his sails well and truly, she thought. She stepped forward, handheld out.
‘Katie Marriott. How do you do?’ she said briskly.
Andrew took her hand with the air of a man in a daze.
‘Er—hello.’
The hateful man looked amused. ‘Andrew Davison.’ he introduced solemnly.
Andrew Davison looked a solid citizen. Certainly not the sort of man to be in partnership with an opportunistic criminal. For a moment she even wondered whether he could be the noise-hating millionaire.
But she dismissed the idea almost at once. Andrew Davison was too young to be so cranky. And anyway, her antagonist did not treat him with enough respect. They must both be employees of the millionaire after all.
Katie shook Andrew’s hand with resolution and stepped back. She deliberately avoided looking at the other man. She could feel his amusement and it was doing nothing for her temper or her poise.
‘Well, I must be getting along,’ she said brightly. ‘If one of you will give me a leg-up back over the wall. . .?’ she suggested with a great air of casualness.
Andrew gulped. ‘The wall?’
‘When I said she dropped in, I meant it literally.’ The man sounded solemn but his shoulders shook.
Andrew looked from one to the other, not sure if it was a joke. ‘Oh.’
‘If you have a ladder?’ pressed Katie.
‘Oh, no need for a ladder. The wall is not that high.’
Katie glared. ‘I’d prefer a ladder.’
The man laughed aloud. Andrew Davison looked flustered.
‘I’ll get one—if you’d give the lady a drink, Andrew.’
He went. Andrew Davison looked round the big room helplessly.
‘I’m afraid—er—I only got in from Santiago yesterday evening. I’m not firing on all cylinders yet, Miss—er—what was it Harry said?’
‘He didn’t,’ said Katie, with bite. ‘I did. Marriott. And I don’t want a drink, thank you. I’ve got a pot of tea waiting for me on the other side of the wall.’
Andrew relaxed visibly. ‘You really do live next door?’ He sounded as if it was almost impossible to believe.
Katie was amused in spite of herself. ‘I really do live next door,’ she agreed gravely. ‘Or at least I’m going to. This is my first day.’
He whistled. ‘And you
celebrate by coming over the wall? Awkward.’ But, unlike his friend, he did not seem to think it was a deliberate invasion.
Katie was so grateful that she gave him her first unshadowed smile.
‘You can say that again.’
‘Er—why?’
‘There was a lilac tree with a dodgy branch.’ She looked out onto the brilliant lawn, gleaming under the sun, and sighed. ‘In fact I bet there are a lot of dodgy branches, one way and another. And I’m supposed to be looking after the garden. It’s all tangles and weeds, not like this.’
‘You’ll have to ask Harry’s advice,’ he said.
So that settled it. Staff after all. Security man-cumgardener. Some people—Andrea, for example—would say he was the ideal man to have next door if you had responsibility for an overgrown garden and your first foray into pruning had resulted in disaster. Especially if you could not tell a flower from a weed without recourse to a book.
Katie resolved to return to the library that very afternoon.
‘Oh, I’m not going to do much in the garden,’ she disclaimed hastily. ‘Just weed and prune a bit.’
‘It sounds as if you already have,’ said Andrew with a grin. ‘I take it the lilac tree is now light by one branch?’
Katie chuckled. ‘You could put it that way. It was being chewed by the dog the last time I looked.’
‘Well, you’ll have to get Harry to help you tidy it up’ Andrew said comfortably.
‘Maybe.’ She did not say she would have died first. In fact she was rather proud of her non-committal tone. ‘Actually, I think it looks quite romantic as it is.’
Andrew came over and propped himself against the French door. Together they contemplated the perfect garden.
‘Harry’s certainly not the romantic type,’ he agreed wryly. ‘He likes things tidy.’
Katie sent the neat lawn a look of dislike. ‘This looks more like a municipal park than a private garden,’ said Katie with disapproval.
‘But a very well-kept park,’ said a voice behind them acidly.
Katie whipped round, stiffening. How long had he been there, listening to her? What had she said?
She tried to review what she had said to Andrew Davison so unguardedly. But her nerves were quivering again and she could not get her thoughts into any sort of order.
Catching Katie Page 5