Anne Mather - Shattered Illusions

The unlikelihood of that scenario brought a cynical compression to his lips. Catriona would never do that. Particularly not when the woman was younger than she was. More likely, she was still having a problem with sleeping. He knew what it was like to wake early in the morning and not be able to fall asleep again. He pulled a wry face. His being here at this hour was proof of that.

It was obvious from the way she was trying to melt back into the shadows that she was as unwilling to acknowledge the encounter as before. And he was tempted to let her go, without embarrassing her again. But what the hell? he thought. Maybe this was what he needed. Perhaps talking to someone else would lift the weight of his problems for a short while.

It couldn’t have been much fun for her so far. Working for Catriona all day, and then being expected to entertain herself every evening, was not his idea of the ideal job. He’d noticed that, despite his invitation, she hadn’t used the Toyota over the weekend. He suspected Catriona had kept her busy. When Catriona was in the throes of composition, she tended not to consider anyone’s needs but her own.

Abandoning his mood of introspection, he turned and looked directly at her, so that she was obliged either to acknowledge she had seen him or risk offending him by pretending she hadn’t. A faint smile touched his lips as he watched her indecision, although he guessed the outcome was a foregone conclusion. He could almost sense what she was thinking, as she hovered between recognition and rejection, but he wasn’t surprised when she gave in to his approach.

‘Good morning,’ he said as he sauntered, barefoot, across the sand towards her. His lips twitched. ‘We must stop meeting like this.’

Her lips tightened. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said stiffly. ‘I always seem to be invading your space.’

‘It’s a free country,’ he responded carelessly, aware that her greeting had been less friendly than it might have been. Dammit, surely she wasn’t offended because he’d accosted her? He couldn’t believe she might be embarrassed by his half-naked state.

‘You’ve been swimming,’ she said, and it was more a statement than a question. She wanted to get away from him, he knew, but the courtesies had to be observed. Her formality amused him. It was such a refreshing change.

‘Mmm,’ he said, aware that he was studying her with rather more interest than he had done thus far. His first impressions of her had been too facile. There was intelligence, as well as perception, in her face.

And she had great legs, he noticed, his eyes dropping briefly below her waist. She’d found some shorts from somewhere, and the awful trousers had disappeared, revealing slender calves and neat ankles. Of course, they were not the sort of shorts he would have liked to see her wearing, he thought. With her waist, she didn’t need to resort to an elasticated band, and they were cotton instead of silk. But he could imagine how she would look in the alternative, with a matching silk vest, instead of the baggy cotton T-shirt she had on.

‘I was just going back,’ she murmured, the faint flush of heat that stained her throat revealing she was not unaware of his appraisal.

For someone used to working with men, she was very sensitive, he reflected. He couldn’t imagine any of the women of his acquaintance behaving that way. And she was a woman who had been prepared to leave her home and family, and take a job in completely alien surroundings, he appended as that beguiling trace of familiarity gripped him once again.

Dammit, did he know her? he wondered. Was that why she was regarding him as if he’d just crawled out from beneath the nearest stone? But no. Although he had been wary of her, she had shown no hostility towards him the first morning she was here, when he’d encountered her by the pool. On the contrary, it was he who had been suspicious of her motives. So what had happened since to cause her to change her mind?

Catriona?

‘You’re not going for a swim?’ he found himself saying now as she turned away, and her eyes darted disbelievingly to his face.

‘A swim?’

‘Why not?’ he countered, not quite knowing why he had suggested it himself. Except that he wanted to dispel the animosity she seemed to be exhibiting towards him. For some crazy reason, he resented her regarding him as her enemy. Whatever Catriona had said—and he guessed it must be something to do with their relationship—this woman had no reason to censure him.

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