Carole Mortimer - A Yuletide Seduction

The last thing she wanted to do was increase this man’s interest in her! Ideally, she would like him to forget he had ever met someone called Jane Smith, but she would settle for disinterest—which wasn’t going to be achieved if she kept challenging him!

‘Of course, that was a social thing,’ she added lightly. ‘You were a guest at a party.’

‘I’m a sociable person, Jane,’ he drawled dryly. ‘Which was actually the reason for this call…’

He was going to ask her to cater a dinner party for him! There was no way she could work for or with this man. Absolutely no way!

‘I’m very heavily booked at this time of year, Mr Vaughan,’ she told him stiffly: Christmas was now only two weeks away. ‘My diary has been full for weeks, some of those bookings made months ago. However, I could recommend another catering firm who I’m sure would be only too pleased to—’

Gabriel Vaughan’s husky laugh cut in on her businesslike refusal. ‘You misunderstood me, Jane,’ he murmured, that laugh still evident in his voice. ‘I was asking you to have dinner with me, not trying to book your services as a cook—impressive as they might be!’

Now it was Jane’s turn to fall silent. Not because she was angry, as Gabriel Vaughan had been minutes ago—where had that anger gone…? No, she was stunned. Gabriel Vaughan was asking her for a date. Impossible. He just didn’t realise how impossible that was.

‘No,’ she said abruptly.

‘Just—no?’ he said slowly, musingly. ‘You don’t even want a little time to think about it?’

She doubted too many women had to do that where this man was concerned; he was handsome, single, undoubtedly rich, sophisticated, witty—what more could any woman want?

All Jane knew was that she did not want Gabriel Vaughan!

‘No,’ she repeated sharply.

‘Then I take it I was right earlier in assuming there’s someone else in your life,’ he dismissed hardly, a chill edging his tone.

Jane frowned. When earlier in this conversation had he assumed there was already someone else in her life? They hadn’t even touched on the subject.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she snapped.

‘It’s occurred to me, Jane, that you have an unhealthy interest—as far as Felicity goes—in Richard Warner’s affairs. And I don’t just mean his business ones!’ he added harshly.

‘You’re disgusting, Mr Vaughan,’ Jane told him angrily. ‘Other women’s husbands have never held any appeal for me, either!’ She deliberately threw his words to Felicity two evenings ago back in his face, then slammed down the receiver, immediately switching on the answer machine.

She didn’t think Gabriel Vaughan was the sort of man to ring a woman back when she had angrily terminated their telephone conversation, but on the off chance that he just might she had no intention of answering that call herself.

He had just implied she was having an affair with Richard Warner!

How dared he?

‘WE MEET again, my dear Jane Smith.’

Jane froze in the act of placing the freshly baked meringues onto the cooling tray, closing her eyes briefly, hoping this was only a nightmare. One that she would wake up from at any second!

But closing her eyes achieved nothing, because she could smell his aftershave now, and knew that when she turned Gabriel Vaughan was going to be standing only feet behind her. Could it only be coincidence that this was the second dinner party in a week that she had catered for where Gabriel Vaughan was a guest…?

She opened her eyes, straightening her shoulders before turning sharply to face him, her heart missing a beat as the total masculinity of him suddenly dominated the kitchen in which she had worked so harmoniously for the last four hours.

She was realising that he was a man who wore a black evening suit and white shirt with a nonchalance that totally belied the exclusive cut of the expensive material. He was vibrantly attractive, in a way that stated he didn’t give a damn how he looked, that he was totally confident of his own masculinity, the challenging glitter of those aqua-blue eyes daring anyone to question it.

To her dismay, Jane realised that was probably exactly what she had done two days ago when she had turned down his invitation to dinner!

She gave a cool inclination of her head. ‘You mentioned that you’re a sociable person,’ she dismissed coldly.

‘And you,’ Gabe returned mockingly, ‘mentioned how busy you were for the next few weeks.’ He shrugged. ‘The mountain came to Mohammed!’

Her eyes narrowed warily. Could this man possibly have—? No, she couldn’t believe he would go to the extreme of having himself invited to a dinner party she was catering simply so that he— Couldn’t she…? Hadn’t the hostess this evening telephoned her earlier this morning and apologetically explained that, if it wasn’t going to be too much of a problem for her, there would be two extra guests for dinner this evening. Was Gabriel Vaughan one of those guests…?

‘I see,’ she murmured noncommittally. ‘I hope you’re enjoying the meal, Mr Vaughan,’ she added dismissively.

But Gabe wasn’t to be dismissed, leaning back against one of the kitchen units, totally relaxed—at least, on the surface; he must have been as aware as she was that the last time the two of them had spoken she had slammed the telephone down on him!

‘I am now,’ he assured her huskily, looking at her admiringly. ‘That’s quite a temper you have there, Jane Smith.’ There was an edge of admiration in his mocking tone as he too recalled the abrupt end of their telephone conversation two days ago.

Jane returned his gaze unblinkingly. ‘That was quite an accusation you made—Gabriel Vaughan,’ she returned, undaunted.

He smiled. More of a grin really, deep grooves beside his mouth, teeth white against his tanned skin. ‘Richard wasn’t too happy about it, either,’ he murmured with amusement.

Her eyes widened, the colour of rich sherry. ‘You repeated that—that ridiculous accusation to him?’ she gasped disbelievingly.

‘Mmm,’ Gabe acknowledged ruefully, his gaze lightly mocking. ‘Tell me,’ he continued consideringly, ‘what do you do for exercise?’

She shook her head, totally amazed at this man’s insulting conversation; he didn’t even try to be polite!

‘I run, Mr Vaughan,’ she snapped angrily. ‘And I really can’t believe you were so insensitive as to have repeated such an accusation to Richard, at a time like this—’

‘Felicity is out of hospital, you know.’ Gabe straightened, not as relaxed as he had been; in fact he looked slightly defensive, the challenging look back in his eyes.

As it happened, Jane did know—but she was surprised he did. She hadn’t actually gone in to see Felicity when she was in hospital, but she had telephoned the hospital to pass on her well wishes, and she had called Richard every day to check on his wife’s condition, relieved when she’d spoken to him this morning and heard that the doctor considered Felicity well enough to go home, the miscarriage in abeyance. For the moment. But surely if this man continued his hounding of Richard—and throwing out obscene accusations—that may not last…!

‘How long for?’ Jane scorned. ‘When do you intend making your next assault on Richard’s company?’ she added disgustedly.

‘I don’t assault, Jane,’ Gabe drawled derisively. ‘I acquire companies—’

‘By going for the jugular of the owner!’ she accused heatedly. ‘Look for the weakness, and then go for it!’

Gabe looked completely unmoved by her accusation. But those aqua-blue eyes had narrowed and a pulse was beating in his clenched jaw. Maybe he wasn’t as completely lacking in compassion as she had believed…