A Masterful Man

you said quite a few. You also kissed me back and it quite felt to me as if your body was revelling in the closeness we shared.' His hazel gaze dropped to her breasts as if he knew without fear of contradiction how tight and expectant they felt.

Davina gasped, then with a sudden movement wrenched herself out of his arms. 'So I did-I must be mad-'

'No,' he said consideringly. 'Not-'

But she'd had enough. 'Yes, mad,' she said bitterly. 'I don't like you and you don't like me. I don't want to… to get into anything with you or anyone else. Why can't you just believe that and leave me alone!'

He crossed his arms and laughed at her silently. Which so incensed her that she went to hit him once again but missed when he dodged leisurely and drawled, 'You are protesting a lot, Davina.'

'I hate you,' she whispered, clenching her fists and hating herself for being in this impossible position as well as giving way to ridiculously violent impulses. 'Will you go away and let me go to bed?'

He lifted a lazy eyebrow and his eyes were still full of wicked, soul-searing amusement. 'That could be an unhappy experience alone, but on top of an empty stomach, dear me, you don't have to do that to yourself.' He picked up his drink, moved to the door, opened it and waited. 'Bring your drink; I'll make you something to eat.' 'Eat?' she repeated in outrage. 'Yes, eat,' he murmured. 'Since you've decided we don't like each other and I gather you've placed what just happened in the realms of temporary insanity- strange how it keeps happening,' he said gravely, 'but I don't see why we shouldn't at least eat and drink if nothing else, Mrs Hastings. Perhaps I should also warn you that I won't take no for an answer.'

He said it quite lightly but there was no amusement that she could discern in his expression now and she'd seen the prelude to irritation and impatience in his eyes too often before not to recognise it now. 'You wouldn't,' she said, but uncertainly, and she could have shot herself for it.

'I would-look, I'm starving, too, so don't make me pick you up and carry you there, Davina. That would be quite childish.'

'You're… you are…' She gritted her teeth.

'I know,' he agreed. 'Coming?' He smiled as she tossed her head but picked up her drink and stepped towards the door.

'What's funny now?' she enquired as she passed him.

'I knew you were going to do that, toss your head like a bad-tempered, but thoroughly classy racehorse with wonderful lines,' he said gently.

Davina stopped. 'If you say one more word along those lines, I shall… probably scream,' she threatened with extreme frustration.

He grinned down at her. 'Sorry, ma'am. I'll try to reform,' he said meekly.

Davina took a breath but let it out without adding anything because Steve Warwick was impossible and she had not the slightest idea how to handle him now, she realised. Nor could she help feeling a bit foolish, a bit like a shrew and-and by far the worst part, desperately confused.

'Come into the den,' he said, as they got to the house. 'It's cosier in there in this kind of weather.'

'All right,' she said quietly, 'but I could make us something to eat. I'm not that exhausted and whatever.'

'You look it,' he commented. 'Just do as you're told. Read the paper or something; I'll top up your drink.'

Davina subsided into the leather couch that was warm and supple and beautifully sprung and picked up the paper. The den was an entirely masculine room, with tartan covers on the two wing chairs either side of the couch, a television set, bookshelves and photos of all the Warwick boats on the walls, yet it was cosier in the lamplight on a night like this without the wall of windows in the lounge dining-area. But she found she wasn't interested in the paper and she laid her head back, nursed her drink and stared at the ceiling and listened to the rain beating on the roof.

Why did I do it? she wondered bleakly. Why does it feel so right, in other words? It never has before…

'Here we are.'

She sat up as Steve put a tray down on the low table in front of the settee and drew up a tartan chair. 'Not up to your standard, I'm afraid.'

She grimaced and said wryly, 'Not bad, all the same.' There were two grilled steaks, baked potatoes in then- jackets topped with cream, a tossed salad and warm buttered rolls on the tray. Also, the unfinished bottle of red wine from the night before.

'Can you eat on your lap?'

She nodded and sniffed appreciatively. And indeed, the steak was of the melt-in-the-mouth variety and she polished the lot off. 'That beef,' she said, 'is the best I've tasted for years.'

'It's island beef.'

'Must be the wonderful pasture-oh, I can do that,' she said as he rose and took her plate.

'No, you won't-drink your wine,' he ordered, loading the tray and leaving the room with it.

Davina shrugged and sat back with her wine which was a full-bodied Hunter Valley red, but smooth as silk on the palate, something she hadn't fully appreciated the night before. 'Why do I get the feeling I was destined to finish this bottle of wine come hell or high water?' she murmured to herself. 'Which is another way of querying whether Steve Warwick always gets his own way?'

'Nearly always,' he replied, coming back into the den silently.

She coloured and bit her lip.

He grimaced. 'I gather I wasn't supposed to hear that.'

'You gather right,' she said evenly.

He sat down again and raised his own glass. 'Well- where do we go from here, Mrs Hastings?' He drained the glass.

'Nowhere,' she said flatly and wearily.

'So, are you saying we ignore the sort of spontaneous combustion we seem to generate?' He lifted an eyebrow at her.

'Yes.'

'And just hope it doesn't keep happening?'

'It won't. Look.' She sat forward and realised she was all but reeling with tiredness now and that two glasses of wine on top of a brandy hadn't helped. 'I can't really think straight at the moment, but-' she moved her shoulders helplessly '-well I can't.'

'I can,' he said softly. 'But what I think might not please you much.'

'I've no doubt about that.'

He looked amused. 'All the same, for what it's worth, and despite what we've both said on the subject, it's not going to just go away. Now if you actually think this state of affairs pleases me, I have to tell you it couldn't have happened at a more awkward time for me-'

'Dear, oh dear!' Davina said with a flash of her more usual spirit.

'Yes, funny that,' he mused. 'I mean, how one can't help feeling piqued in certain circumstances. 'Are you?' he queried quizzically.

'I wasn't….' Davina closed her mouth and felt some telltale heat begin to rise up her throat.

'It's all right, don't let it upset you,' he said gravely. 'I'm quite familiar with the feeling myself-probably only human nature. However…' He paused. 'I really don't think it will help to simply pretend to ignore this situation, Davina. We should try to…hammer it out, if you like, make some decisions. Otherwise, life will be extremely trying for both of us for the next month, don't you agree?' He lifted a wry eyebrow at her.

Davina stared at him in silence for about a minute. Then she said hollowly, 'I can see it's not a matter of great seriousness for you-'

'I can assure you it is.'

'No, it's not,' she flung at him angrily. 'You're treating it as some kind of joke at the moment.'

'You didn't think I was seriously unpleasant to you this morning?' He raised an eyebrow.

'I think you can be seriously unpleasant at the drop of a hat-' She stopped and looked at him uncertainly. 'You mean you were…like that… because…?' She couldn't go on.