Damien Savage was watching the play of emotions across her expressive face. ‘I take it my home meets with your approval?’
‘It’s—it’s very nice,’ she replied awkwardly.
‘But not what you expected,’ he guessed shrewdly.
‘Hardly.’
‘You’ll have to go to James and his friends if you want the ultra-modern decor they seem to find attractive. Personally, I think it’s hideous and totally unrelaxing.’
‘So do I.’
‘You agree?’ he looked surprised.
‘Certainly. You didn’t expect that, did you?’
‘No,’ he answered honestly. ‘But I like women who can surprise me.’
The faintly intimate tone to his words reminded her of her reasons for being here. ‘Your likes and dislikes in women don’t interest me,’ she said sharply. ‘Nothing about you interests me.’
‘I’ll do my best to change that,’ he promised deeply, his green eyes caressing.
Her lips turned back in a sneer. ‘I shouldn’t bother. I doubt my opinion of you will alter with better acquaintance.’
‘You never know,’ he taunted. ‘I’ve been told that I can be quite charming on occasion.’
‘I won’t ask what occasion,’ she said bitchily.
He chuckled at the disapproval in her face. ‘Perhaps you’re right. Would you like me to show you your room?’
‘My room—! You can show me where I’ll be changing,’ she corrected. ‘But it certainly won’t be my room.’
‘I’m not going to argue with you—yet. I’ll take you to the room now. I only have someone come in to keep the place free of dust and stock up the refrigerator, I manage everything else on my own,’ he continued conversationally, taking her down a short corridor and into a bedroom on the left-hand side. ‘I’m not in one place long enough to keep permanent staff.’
Kate could well believe it; he always seemed to be reported to be moving to one location or another. She liked the bedroom, the huge four-poster bed, the Queen Anne furniture. What extraordinarily good taste this man had, quite surprisingly so.
‘This is lovely,’ she told him appreciatively.
‘Changed your mind about staying?’
‘No! Definitely not.’
He shrugged. ‘I’ll leave you to sort out your clothing while I fix us something to eat.’
She couldn’t imagine the worldly, sophisticated Damien Savage doing that and she protested loudly. ‘I’m not hungry,’ she lied.
‘Rubbish. I’m pretty good at cooking omelettes, light and fluffy as they should be,’ he added temptingly. ‘And I can have it ready in about five minutes.’
She ignored the rumblings of her stomach. ‘Why should you want to get me a meal?’
Damien Savage sighed. ‘I happen to be hungry myself. It’s quite some time since I last ate.’
‘Oh well.’ Kate turned away to begin taking out her gown for the evening. ‘In that case I might as well join you. I’d love an omelette.’
‘With salad?’
‘With salad,’ she agreed.
She didn’t need to turn to know he had left the room, she just sensed it. This was the strangest day she had spent since the day she had suddenly been introduced to James’ unusual but interesting life. Strange, because a few hours ago she hadn’t even met Damien Savage; she had had the usual girlhood dreams about him a few years ago, but now she was actually in the bedroom of his apartment. Her immature daydreams had never taken her this far.
She hung up her dress on a hanger she found in the closet. It was a black silk gown, so it hadn’t creased too much in the case. An hour or so on a hanger should ensure that it had no creases at all.
Dinner was ready for her when she came into the kitchen a few minutes later. A place was set for her at the breakfast bar and she sat down without a word. Damien sat next to her and they ate in silence.
He heaved a sigh of satisfaction as he drank the last of his coffee. ‘Right,’ he stood up. ‘I’ll go and shower and leave you to clear this away.’
‘You’ll what?’ Kate looked at him in amazement, pushing back a stray wisp of hair that had escaped her topknot.
‘You heard me. I’m not going to wait on you all evening.’ He stopped at the door. ‘And wear your hair loose tonight,’ he ordered.
‘I will not!’ She faced him, a slender defiant figure in her fitted trousers and blouse. ‘I hardly ever leave my hair free.’
‘For me you will,’ he promised softly. ‘I love longhaired women. How long is it?’
‘Almost down to my waist,’ she told him sulkily. ‘And I don’t want to be classed with your women!’
‘I don’t have any women at the moment,’ he answered with some amusement. ‘Only a little girl that I’m finding more desirable every moment I’m with her. I like females that answer me back,’ he surprised her with this disclosure, ‘and you do little else.’
‘If I’d realised that I would have been so nice to you you would have longed to get away.’ The golden flecks were more noticeable in her wide brown eyes. ‘I wish I’d known!’
‘Too late,’ he laughed huskily.
Left alone in the kitchen, Kate had little choice but to wash the dishes and tidy them away. By the time she had finished Damien was back, dressed only in a black silk robe that reached just above his knees, his strong tanned legs bare beneath its short length, and the V-neckline showing her the thick dark hair that grew on his brown chest. He had obviously shaved, and droplets of water still glistened in his hair where he had showered.
He watched her over the flame of his lighter as he lit the long cheroot in his mouth, smoke drifting about the. room. ‘Your turn,’ he said softly, his green cat-like eyes never leaving her face.
She was disconcerted by his complete unselfconsciousness at his almost nakedness, her nostrils appreciating the aroma of the cheroot. ‘I—er—couldn’t you have dressed before coming back in here?’ she demanded defensively.
He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘Why should I? I live here.’
‘Yes, but—but I’m here.’
‘So? I’m wearing more now than James was
