Sarah Holland - Extreme Provocation

Lucy’s green eyes flicked with love to Edward’s face. ‘You shouldn’t encourage him.’

Edward gave a wry shrug. ‘He’d do it with or without my permission. You know that, Lucy.’

Gerald frowned. ‘I say. Don’t talk about a chap as though he wasn’t here!’

They all laughed.

Edward moved towards Lucy, his pale blue eyes tracing her face with affection. ‘You look radiant. Good day with the children?’

‘Lovely,’ she nodded. ‘Come into the kitchen and talk to me while I prepare dinner.’

They went into the kitchen, a bright sunlit room backing on to a small square of garden. Lucy waited until the door was shut, then flung herself into Edward’s arms.

‘Darling!’ She kissed his neck, breathed in the familiar scent of his skin. ‘If only you lived here, you could help me stop him. I’m so worried...’

‘My darling.’ He stroked her hair with long fingers. ‘I know. So am I. But I just can’t stop him spending. I keep telling him he’s hurtling towards bankruptcy, but he won’t listen.’

‘He’s been rich all his life,’ she said, closing her eyes. ‘He thinks it’ll never run out.’

‘I’ve explained it all a thousand times to him.’ Edward gave a harsh sigh. ‘But it’s no good, Lucy. It’s as though he wants to destroy himself, and take the family down with him.’

Edward Blair was tall and thin with pale hair and pale skin and a very pale mouth. His father had been Sir Charles’s accountant. Edward had naturally taken up the position when his father died. The Winslow family and the Blair family had had a close tie.

Edward was so close to her that he was almost family. She had always known she was in love with him—and that they would one day marry. So had Edward. It was just a matter now of buying a ring and naming the day.

‘Edward, I went to the casino last night,’ Lucy told him now, ‘to try and stop him gambling, but—’

‘You went to the casino!’ He was shocked. ‘My God, Lucy! You shouldn’t have done that. Not alone...’

‘Why not?’ she protested, flushing deeply at the memory of that man’s passionate kiss and the danger he had made her feel. ‘I’m twenty-three and perfectly capable of walking into a casino.’

‘Yes, but you’re very sheltered, Lucy. Not the kind of young woman who should be going into casinos late at night on her own.’ Edward frowned with concern. ‘You’ve spent your adult life working with children, for God’s sake.’

She smiled. ‘And looking after you and my father.’

‘Well, all right,’ he grinned, touching her face affectionately with one slim hand. ‘Looking after me and your father.’

‘And that is, after all, what I plan to do for the rest of my life,’ she pointed out with a teasing smile.

‘Yes,’ he said softly, ‘but don’t go into that damned casino again. It just isn’t suitable, my darling, and I won’t allow it.’ He bent his head to kiss her. The warmth of his mouth was sweet, familiar, and she smiled as she received his kiss, her body relaxed as he held her waist tenderly.

Suddenly she remembered the pulsing excitement of that man’s kiss last night and her heartbeat started to race dangerously. Eyes darkening, she moved abruptly away, ending the kiss.

‘If only we were married,’ she said suddenly, a hand at her temple. ‘Darling, can’t it be soon?’

‘It’s so difficult, Lucy,’ he said with deep regret. ‘To even think of marrying yet could be disastrous.’

‘But if we were married, you could live here instead of at that poky little flat,’ she protested, ‘and do something about Daddy. I sometimes feel as though I’m drowning in all this worry—’

Edward groaned, pulling her back into his arms. ‘You shouldn’t have to worry about things like bankruptcy and ruin,’ he smiled teasingly at her. ‘All you should worry about is darning my socks and cooking dinner for me and your father.’

Lucy clung to him, arms wound round his neck. ‘It’s all I want to do, Edward. Just to look after you and my father forever—’

‘Then get on with the dinner,’ he teased, kissing her, and then released her, opening the kitchen door. ‘I’ll be in the drawing-room with your father.’

As she prepared the dinner she listened to her favourite piece of jazz, the piano a smoky lilt against the lazy drawl of the singer. If only life could be this simple, she thought, green eyes clouding. Just relaxing, with no financial worries.

Sighing, she remembered how safe and secure her childhood had been. Sir Charles had been alive then, and his had been the strong hand that guided her life. If only she could return to that haven...but her father was at the wheel now, and guiding their ship on to the rocks.

The whole house felt under constant threat. She had no idea about raising money. What on earth did one do? Sell furniture? The paintings and jewellery that had not been sold so far would raise some money, but not enough. She only earned a small amount from the kindergarten. Enough to buy household necessities and food. But nowhere near enough to pay off a mortgage or even debts.

On Saturday morning she went shopping as usual, while her father slept off his hangover. It was a lovely day, the sun high in a clear blue sky.

As she walked towards the shopping precinct, a long white sports car slid around the corner and purred to a standstill just in front of her. The door opened and a very tall man stepped out of it, impeccably dressed, turning to face her with a cool smile.

Lucy gasped as she saw the blue eyes and the scar.

‘Serendipity,’ Randal drawled. ‘I was just on my way to see you. I came to return this.’ He handed her the white silk shawl. ‘You left it in my office the other night.’

Flushing angrily, she snatched the shawl from him. ‘Thank you,’ she said tightly, and tried to move past him.

He blocked her path. ‘I thought you might come back for it in person.’

‘Why on earth should you think that?’ Lucy’s green eyes sparkled with anger. ‘After your behaviour, the only reason I would have considered returning would have been to slap your face.’

‘I take it the idea didn’t prove irresistible?’

‘No,’ she said tightly, ‘but it will if you don’t get out of my way!’

He laughed, blue eyes moving over her with blatant insolence. ‘You are passionate, aren’t you? I’ve never met such a spitfire. How quickly that cool little face turns to fury.’

‘I scratch, too.’ she said, loathing him intensely. ‘Remember?’

‘How could I forget?’ He turned his dark head, the scratch a faint red line along his tough jaw. ‘Every time I look in the mirror, I think of you and your angry little face. I’d like to make you that angry again, Miss Winslow. In fact, I’d like to make you angrier still...’

Staring, she felt her pulses throbbing with sudden wild arousal, and her gaze seemed riveted to his hard mouth as she remembered that kiss and the violence of the response he had aroused in her.

‘Have dinner with me tonight,’ he said softly, watching her.

‘No!’ she snapped.

‘Tomorrow night?’

‘Never,’ she said fiercely, and stormed past him.

He fell into step beside her, hands thrust in the pockets of his obviously expensive grey suit.

‘You’re annoying me,’ Lucy said, refusing to look at him.

‘Good,’ he murmured. ‘I enjoy seeing you lose your cool.’

‘I could call a policeman, you know,’ she said, quickening her step.

‘He wouldn’t have the same effect.’

Her mouth tightened. They were walking briskly on to the cobbles of the precinct. Shoppers streamed all around them. She was very aware of Randal’s hard masculinity, that lazy, mocking smile and the black windblown hair. Several women shot him interested glances.