Lindsay Armstrong - An Exception to His Rule

He set his teeth. ‘Yes, do! About the rest of it?’

Her deep blue eyes widened. ‘The rest of it?’

He grimaced. ‘You must have a short memory span as well as being accident-prone. Or do you often go around kissing guys like that?’

The confidence she’d got from a few sips of brandy ebbed a little at the same time as her eyes widened as the full memory of their passionate encounter hit her.

She took a larger mouthful of brandy.

‘You had forgotten,’ he marvelled.

‘No. But we did get interrupted,’ she responded tartly. ‘I don’t know about you, but I found it extremely embarrassing. Enough to make the rest of it, well...’ She broke off as she searched for the right words.

‘Pale into insignificance?’ he suggested dryly.

‘Not exactly,’ Harriet denied and took another sip of her drink. ‘But it did—move it back a bit if you know what I mean.’ She paused and shrugged. ‘It probably put it into its right perspective.’

‘What would that be?’

She glinted him an assessing look from beneath her lashes, then thought—why should I try to spare his feelings? ‘It was just something that happened in the heat of the moment, wasn’t it?’

‘Go on.’

Harriet hesitated, unable to read his expression but feeling a prickle of apprehension run through her. ‘Well, you insulted me, I responded—’

‘With a blow, allow me to remind you.’ He looked sardonically amused.

Harriet compressed her lips. ‘I’m sorry. I believe I had cause, however. Look—’ she paused ‘—I wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t still furious with me over your car.’

‘Not to mention my collarbone. There are still some things I can’t do. I’m not still furious, however.’ Damien Wyatt crossed his arms and leant back with a frown growing in his dark eyes. ‘Well, I may have been a bit annoyed but I have to say I’m mostly confused now. In fact I’m beginning to wonder if I’m hallucinating. Did you or did you not kiss me back almost like a woman starved for—that kind of thing?’

Harriet stared at the cameo for a long moment then looked at him squarely. ‘Maybe. But it’s best forgotten.’

‘Why?’

Harriet pushed her glass away and stood up. ‘Because I have no intention of getting involved with you, Mr Wyatt. Please don’t take that personally. I’m...I’m...happy to be fancy-free, that’s all.’

He stared at her and she was suddenly conscious that not only was she completely unable to read his thoughts but, more than that, it troubled her.

Why? Why should she care one way or another about what he thought of her? The sensual response he’d managed to draw from her had come about because he was experienced and worldly—she had little doubt of that—so why should she invest it with any special meaning or depth?

Well, she amended her thoughts, she had to take some responsibility for her reaction, surely? Starved? Perhaps—but she didn’t even want to think about that...

‘Would you mind if I went now? I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your time but I honestly don’t think it could work.’

Damien stayed absolutely still for a moment longer then he straightened and stood up, leaning his fists on the table. ‘Yes, I would mind,’ he said dryly, ‘and I’ll tell you why. I don’t propose to have you on my conscience for a moment longer, whether I realise it or not, Harriet Livingstone.’

‘You don’t have to have me on your conscience!’ she objected.

‘Believe me, I’d rather not but—’

‘What do you mean—whether you realise it or not?’ Harriet broke in to ask with a frown.

He shrugged. ‘I can’t work out why else I agreed to see you again.’

Harriet linked her fingers together and told herself not to pursue this but some demon prompted her, rather than simply getting up and walking out, to say, ‘If you think I could ever work for you, you must be mad, Mr Wyatt.’

Their gazes clashed.

‘The job is yours, Miss Livingstone,’ he replied deliberately. ‘You can move in the day after tomorrow—I’ll be gone then. I’m going overseas for some weeks, at least a month. Of course Isabel, who runs the house and the rest of it when I’m not here, will be in residence. So will Charlie, for a while anyway. Did Arthur get around to mentioning the remuneration package we thought was suitable?’

Harriet blinked. ‘...Yes.’

‘You can add a twenty per cent commission on any items I decide to sell. Will that do?’

‘I...I...’ She hesitated.

‘Don’t go all dithery on me again, Harriet,’ he warned. ‘Finish your brandy,’ he ordered.

She stared at him, deep hostility written into her expression. ‘No. I’ve got to drive.’

‘All right, but I need to know if you’re going to take it or not.’

Harriet would have given the world to answer in the negative but if he was going to be away...and surely she could finish the job in a month if she worked day and night...?

‘I’ll take it,’ she said barely audibly.

‘Do you want to see the studio and the flat?’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sure they’ll be fine.’

He studied her narrowly with a glint of curiosity in his dark eyes. ‘I can’t work out if you’re a superior, head-in-the-clouds although accident-prone academic type or a rather exotic bundle of nerves.’

Harriet took a breath and actually managed to smile. ‘If it’s any help, neither can I. Goodbye, Tottie,’ she added and patted the dog’s head.

Damien Wyatt looked heavenwards as Tottie came as close as such a regal-looking dog could to actually simpering.

At the same time, Harriet said, ‘Oh! I wonder where I put my glasses?’

‘Here,’ he remarked flatly, picking them up from the dining table and handing them to her. ‘I’ll see you out.’

Harriet hesitated. ‘I’m sure I could see myself out.’

‘Not at all. After you.’

So it was that Harriet preceded him out of the dining room and out of the house to the driveway. There was only one vehicle parked there: hers.

Damien Wyatt took one look at it and swore. ‘You’re not still driving that damn tank, are you?’ he asked with furious incredulity.

Harriet coloured slightly. ‘It just refuses to lie down. Anyway, it’s not mine, it’s Brett’s, my brother’s. It’s very good over rough and sandy terrain.’

‘I believe you.’ Damien favoured the vehicle with a lingering look of malice then transferred his gaze to Harriet.

‘Well, enjoy your stay at Heathcote, Miss Livingstone.’ A tinge of irony entered his dark eyes. ‘Don’t go about kissing too many men at the same time as you’re happy to remain fancy-free. Oh, and watch out for Charlie. He is, not to put too fine a point on it, a womaniser.’

Harriet drew a deep breath. ‘Perhaps he takes after you?’ she said quietly, and climbed into her battered old vehicle.

He waited until she’d driven off before saying to Tottie, ‘What the devil do you make of all that? OK, I know you’re on her side, but I don’t ever recall kissing a girl I’ve—virtually—just met like that.’

Predictably, Tottie didn’t answer; she only yawned.

Damien Wyatt shrugged. In fact I haven’t kissed anyone quite like that for a while, he added to himself. Been too busy, been somewhat cynical about the whole tribe of women, to be honest. What I need, if that’s the case, is someone nice and uncomplicated who knows the rules of the game—doesn’t expect wedding bells in other words—rather than importuning an accident-prone, scholarly type who drives a horrible vehicle and has the nerve to suborn my dog!

‘That’s you, Tottie,’ he said severely but Tottie remained serenely unaffected.

‘Of course you could always kind of...keep an eye on her while I’m away,’ Damien added. ‘Heaven knows what “a left-handed syndrome” could lead her into.’