His Little Girl. Liz Fielding
‘I’m sure you could use a shower.’ She felt her voice shake. Well, she was supping with the devil; she had a right to be nervous.
‘I’m sure I could. But you’ll understand if I insist you stay and keep me company.’
‘What!’
Gannon discovered that making Dora blush gave him a heady sense of power that he knew was utterly beneath contempt. But she looked so lovely, so delightfully vulnerable...’ You’d like me to say that again?’ he enquired.
‘No!’ Then, her cheeks even pinker, ‘You can’t mean it.’
‘I’m afraid I can, and I do.’ His regret might have been genuine. Somehow Dora doubted it. ‘I really can’t take the risk that you’ll take the opportunity to bolt for it. If the police lock me up, who will look after Sophie?’
‘Why would they lock you up?’
‘I broke in here; isn’t that enough?’
‘Not if I don’t press charges.’
‘Ah, there’s the rub. If.’ She didn’t bother to protest that she wouldn’t. Why would he believe her? ‘You don’t have to share the shower with me, Dora. I simply want you to stay near enough to chat. So I know you’re there. That’s all.’
‘All?’ She almost exploded with rage. How dared he? For heaven’s sake, she might have really been Richard’s wife... ‘Aren’t you concerned about Richard’s reaction to such a plan?’ she said, suddenly latching onto the thought, certain that it would make him think twice.
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