CATHY WILLIAMS - Too Scared To Love

Men, she thought acidly—weren’t they all the same? Out to enjoy themselves, whatever the cost? And looking at him now, framed by the window, the bedroom light throwing the sharp contours of his face into relief, she told herself that he was a typical male, but more so. He had limitless women at his disposal, and he took every advantage to exploit that fact. How long had Miss Legs of the Year been on the scene? she wondered. A few weeks? Maybe longer? Only to be discarded when another model took his fancy? She decided that she heartily disapproved of him, and right now she particularly disapproved of him standing there by the window without showing any signs of leaving.

‘Don’t you exercise?’ he asked, raising one eyebrow.

‘Have you come to make polite chit-chat?’ Roberta asked. ‘If so, I’ll be down in a minute.’

‘You certainly know how to get to the point, don’t you?’ he said drily, not budging.

‘I just think that this isn’t exactly a suitable place to conduct a conversation.’

There was the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he looked at her, and she flushed.

‘Emily seems to have taken to you,’ he commented. ‘I’ve just come from chatting with her, and she tells me that you’re all right, she supposes, which is tantamount to a eulogy.’

Roberta smiled. ‘She can be charming when she forgets that rebellious image she’s trying to cultivate.’

‘You’ll have to let me in on your secret,’ he drawled, but there was enough of a hint of seriousness in his voice to make her look at him sharply.

‘No secret,’ Roberta responded lightly. ‘I just take time with her. If she throws a sulk, I let her, but I don’t let it affect me. It’s difficult to be constantly ill-mannered to someone when they don’t respond.’

‘You think I don’t handle her correctly, then.’

‘I never said that.’ She stood up pointedly and walked towards the door, hovering once she had reached it.

‘You seem to have mastered the art of not saying anything, but nevertheless making your meaning perfectly clear. I suppose you disapprove of my lifestyle, and I’m sure Emily hasn’t been backward in supporting that.’

Roberta stared at him, unsure whether he expected an answer to that one.

‘She doesn’t mention it, really,’ she hedged, feeling quite awkward now that she had got to her feet, but had found herself unable to actually leave the room.

‘I don’t believe that for a minute,’ Grant remarked lazily. ‘The child barely utters two words to me, but she makes herself perfectly clear on the subject of my women.’

Roberta didn’t say anything. Suddenly the room was feeling very small, and images of Grant with his women flashed through her head with such graphic detail that she was alarmed. Why was it that whenever she was in his presence, it was always so damned hard to draw the line between her professional status and her private one? Much as she disliked it, he made her conscious of the fact that she was a woman.

‘I wouldn’t know about that,’ she murmured vaguely.

‘Wouldn’t you?’ He strolled across to where she was standing, and as he looked down at her she realised that the room was feeling much smaller now. In fact, it was difficult to breathe evenly.

‘I think we ought to go down for dinner,’ she said as firmly as she could. ‘Mrs Thornson gets quite upset if we don’t eat on time. She likes to get away at a reasonable hour, especially as she has to use public transport to get back to her house. She says that winter’s a dreadful time to be standing in a bus shelter waiting for a bus.’

‘Perhaps I should get her a car.’

‘Wouldn’t it be cheaper just to make sure you eat dinner on time?’

Those amazing green eyes were pinning her against the wall. She felt very much like a helpless moth fluttering too close to an open flame. It wasn’t a very pleasant feeling. Remember, she told herself, what happened the last time you got too close to an open flame.

‘I make money,’ he said coolly. ‘But once it’s made, I don’t count it.’

‘Lucky old you. How nice to be in that position.’

‘I don’t suppose as an au pair that you are,’ he said speculatively. ‘Is that why you took this job? Because it was well paid?’

Roberta shrugged uncomfortably. ‘Among other things.’

‘What other things?’

‘If you’ll excuse me,’ she said decisively, ‘I’m going downstairs now. I don’t relish the thought of Mrs Thornson’s anger if she’s kept waiting around.’

She turned to go, and his hand closed over her wrist. ‘Wait just a minute. Forget about Mrs Thornson. You won’t be having dinner here tonight. You’ll be having dinner with me.’

‘Is that an order?’ Roberta asked after a while. ‘I wasn’t told that having dinner with the boss was to be part of my duties.’

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