London's Eligible Bachelors. Sharon Kendrick
of course, hadn’t.
In fact, he’d spent the last five evenings behaving as though he had a piece of radioactive equipment in the room with him—keeping a wary and observant distance and occasionally glancing her a look from beneath those sensationally long black lashes. But tonight he seemed edgy.
‘Do you want to go out for a drink before supper?’ he asked suddenly.
Sabrina snapped her book shut with nervous fingers. ‘What, now, tonight?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s Friday night—it’s what people do.’
Anything would be better than having to spend another whole evening watching while she managed to turn reading a book into a very erotic art form indeed. It was all getting a little too cosy for comfort. And Guy had found that leafing through art-world journals had lost most of its allure when he had the infinitely more distracting vision of Sabrina flicking that bright red-gold hair back over her slim shoulders.
But it was a challenge he had set himself and Guy thrived on challenges. He was determined to resist her—and resist her he damned well would. Unwittingly he had taken advantage of her once before, but once had been enough. ‘How about it?’ he asked.
She thought about the fine wines he had crowding the vast rack in the dining room. Maybe he wanted to go out because he was bored, just sitting here alone with her night after night. And it was just politeness which had made him invite her to go with him.
‘You go out if you like,’ she offered. ‘I’ll stay in. You don’t have to have me tagging along with you.’
‘You can’t sit in here all on your own,’ he objected.
She forced a smile. It would do her good. After five evenings she was beginning to enjoy his company a little too much. ‘Go on! You go, Guy—I’ll be fine here. I’ll probably have an early night.’
Guy felt an infuriating urge to stay home, yet he hadn’t been out a single night this week—and this from the man who was the original party animal. ‘Sure?’ he asked reluctantly.
‘Who else is going?’
‘Tom is, and a couple of guys who work with him. Oh, and I expect that Trudi and Jenna might turn up.’
Jenna. Sabrina’s smile didn’t slip. ‘I think I’ll pass, if you don’t mind. Honestly, Guy, I’m tired.’
Guy rose to his feet, strangely reluctant to move. ‘Maybe we should go out for dinner some time?’
She felt a little stab of pleasure, until she reminded herself that it wasn’t a date. He was simply making sure that she wasn’t bored.
‘Dinner?’ she asked casually.
‘Yeah. There are a couple of clients I need to take out—you might as well come with me.’
‘Oh. Right,’ she said, her heart sinking despite her intention not to let it. No, it definitely wasn’t a date—he couldn’t have phrased it more unflatteringly if he’d tried. The token female at a client dinner!
He paused by the door and shot her a quick glance. ‘Any plans for tomorrow?’
‘Not really. I’m working. I work every third Saturday.’
He nodded. ‘Me, too. Well, actually, I work most Saturdays.’
Sabrina stared at him. ‘Why?’
He frowned. ‘Why what?’
‘Why do you work on Saturdays?’ She gave him a slightly waspish smile. He left at the crack of dawn each morning and didn’t put in an appearance until at least eight o’clock. Even after five days she had decided that he drove himself too hard. ‘You do happen to own the company, don’t you, Guy?’
‘Yes, I do, and I like to make sure that I stay one step ahead of my competitors,’ he retorted softly. ‘And the only way to do that is to work hard. Number-one lesson in life. Build yourself so high that no one can knock you down. Ever.’
She lifted her eyebrows. He sounded almost ruthless. ‘Try to be invincible, you mean?’
There was an unmistakable flicker of tension around his mouth. ‘It’s an achievable goal,’ he answered, in a voice which was suddenly harsh.
She was tempted to tell him that he was already top of the heap. And that it didn’t look as if anyone was going to knock him anywhere, least of all down, but there was a distinctly warning glitter hardening his slate-grey eyes.
She thought of him as polished and sophisticated, a man who had everything, with his dark good looks and his enormous flat and wealthy lifestyle—and that wasn’t even taking into account his consummate skill as a lover. Yet something just now had frozen his face into granite. Had made him look almost savage. Was Guy Masters a man of never-ending ambition—and, if so, then why, when he seemed to have more than most men could only dream of?
‘What’s so good about being invincible?’ she queried softly.
Guy’s face tightened. Because it was the opposite of how his father had operated, with his easy come, easy go attitude to life and all the devastation that attitude had brought in its wake. But he had never shared that devastation with any woman and he wasn’t about to start now. Even with Sabrina Cooper and her warm, trusting smile and tantalising blue eyes which the devil himself must have given her.
‘It all comes down to personal choice,’ he said coldly. ‘And that’s mine.’
Sabrina could recognise a brush-off when she heard one—and more than a reluctance to open up. From the daunting expression in those dark, stormy eyes, it was more like a refusal to talk.
Tactically, she retreated.
‘Have a nice time,’ she said placidly. ‘I think I’ll have a bath and that early night.’
Guy had to stifle a groan as some of the tension he’d been feeling was replaced by a new and different kind of tension. Images of her long, pale limbs submerged beneath the foaming bubbles of his bathtub crept tantalisingly into his mind as his photographic memory recalled them with breathtaking accuracy. Did she really need to share something like that with him?
‘Yeah,’ he clipped out. ‘Do that.’
‘Shall I leave you some supper?’ she asked. ‘I thought I’d make some risotto—I got some amazing oyster mushrooms cheap at the market.’
Guy scowled. Just five days and she seemed to have taken over most of the cooking and most of the shopping—and she insisted on shopping around to save him money—even when he’d told her that she didn’t need to. With her, it seemed pride as much as parsimony—and she could be so damned stubborn.
‘You don’t have to cook for me every night,’ he said shortly. ‘I told you that.’
‘But it’s no trouble if I’m cooking for myself—’
‘I’m perfectly capable of fixing myself some eggs when I get home!’ Guy snapped, and turned and walked out of the room, because that hurt little tremble of her mouth was enough to crumble a heart of stone.
Sabrina could hear him slamming around in his room; then the telephone began to ring. She waited to see whether Guy would answer it, but it carried on ringing and so she picked it up.
‘Hello?’
There was a pause, and then a rather flustered-sounding woman’s voice said, ‘I’m sorry—I think I must have got the wrong number.’
‘Who did you want to speak to?’ enquired Sabrina patiently.
‘Guy Masters. My son.’
‘Your son? Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs Masters, I didn’t realise—I’ll just get him for you.’
‘No, no, wait a minute—just who might you be?’
Sabrina cleared