Instant Fire. Liz Fielding
‘I don’t suppose you’d take a doughnut into consideration?’ He paused in the act of spooning rice on to his plate just long enough to hand her a fork. She made no further protest. At least eating precluded conversation.
‘More?’ he offered, as he watched her finish.
Jo shook her head. ‘No. But thank you.’ She forced a smile. ‘I was hungrier than I thought.’ She began to clear the dishes into the kitchen. ‘Now, perhaps you’ll tell me why you’re here?’ It seemed easier to ask the question while she was occupied. ‘What exactly do you want from me?’
He had followed her, and his voice at her ear made her jump ‘Maybe,’ he said, very softly, ‘I did change my mind. Maybe I can’t get the thought of the other night out of my head.’ He reached out and caught her wrist. ‘Maybe I’ve been driven to distraction by the thought of you offering yourself to another man … I have the feeling that Peter Lloyd wouldn’t be so tactless as to refuse you. Or is that where you’ve been all weekend?’
Jo stared at his hand, at the strong fingers curled around her wrist, the same fingers that had elicited such a eager response from her. She ignored his question. ‘Is that how you see me?’ she asked. ‘Desperate? Realising how late I’ve left it and throwing myself at every man who comes my way in the hope that one of them will take pity on me?’ She shuddered, resisting to no purpose as he pulled her into his arms, wrapping them around her, holding her close.
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