SUSANNE MCCARTHY - Dangerous Entanglement

‘Th…thank you,’ she managed, her voice sounding oddly unsteady to her own ears.

‘Don’t mention it…’

There was a strange huskiness in his tone, as if he too had been affected by that fleeting touch. She lifted her eyes to look up at him and found him looking down at her. Something was weaving a spell around them, holding them both in a kind of thrall…

‘Where are you staying?’ he enquired softly.

All of a sudden red lights and alarm-bells started going off frantically inside her head; that question, in her experience, had all too frequently been the prelude to a request for a date. Instinctively she retreated on to the defensive. ‘Why do you want to know?’ she countered jaggedly.

At once that smile took on a sardonic twist—whatever she had seen, or thought she had seen, was gone. ‘Simply out of concern for your safety,’ he returned drily. ‘I wouldn’t like to think you’d be out here after dark. I’ll be moving my men out here over the next couple of weeks, and while I can guarantee that they’ll be kept too busy during the day to even think about a woman, once that whistle blows their time’s their own.’

She glared up at him in angry defiance, her hands on her hips. ‘Are you trying to intimidate me, Mr Marshall?’ she challenged.

‘I wouldn’t dream of it, Ms Holloway,’ he returned, placing a mocking emphasis on the title she had insisted on. ‘I was simply making you aware of the situation. There’s more than one reason why this site may be considered unsafe for you.’

‘Thank you,’ she responded tartly. ‘I’ll try and remember that.’

‘I would if I were you.’ Now his voice held an unmistakable warning. ‘I don’t like people trying to stand in my way.’

‘So I’ve heard.’ She allowed a sardonic edge to creep into her own voice. ‘Whoever they are.’

‘Oh?’ He arched one dark eyebrow in mocking enquiry, knowing exactly what she meant. ‘You’ve taken an interest in my past career?’

‘Who could miss it?’ she retorted with cool disdain. ‘You seem to have a flair for publicity.’

‘Not intentionally. And you shouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers.’

‘Oh? You mean it’s all a pack of lies?’

He laughed without humour. ‘Well, not quite,’ he conceded. ‘Let’s just say the tabloid version tends to be somewhat economical with the facts.’

She slanted him a sceptical glance. Maybe that was true, to some extent; but there was no mistaking his arrogance, or his ruthlessness—it was written into every line of that hard-boned, aquiline face. A small shiver ran through her. He was the kind of man who would get what he wanted—whatever he wanted. And he wouldn’t be too particular about his methods.

She shrugged her slender shoulders in a gesture of indifference, turning her attention to setting up the trolley ready to bring up another load of rubble. ‘Anyway, it’s really no concern of mine…’

‘Ah, there you are!’

Joanna turned, startled, as Annette appeared, a fairhaired young man in tow—the one who had been in the Land Rover with Alex. Until that moment, she had completely forgotten that they were there.

‘Sorry to have been so long,’ Annette added, blithely unaware of any tension between the other two. ‘I was just showing Greg the Nomarch’s tomb. Greg, this is Joanna. Joanna—Greg Taylor.’

Joanna found herself shaking hands politely, murmuring some sort of greeting.

‘Oh, by the way,’ Annette added, oddly breathless, ‘I’ve suggested that Greg and Alex might like to drop by and have dinner with us tonight. That’s all right with you, isn’t it?’

The words were casual enough, but there was a glow in Annette’s brown eyes as she glanced up at the young man by her side that hinted that it was very important indeed that she should agree. And he seemed equally smitten, smiling down at her as if she were the embodiment of all his dreams.

So that was the way the river was running! Neither of them had wasted much time, Joanna reflected, with a wry twist of amusement. It looked like a classic case of love at first sight. But it did place her in something of a quandary. The last thing she wanted was to have Alex Marshall come to dinner, but how could she possibly stand in the way of two such love-birds?

‘Of course it’s all right,’ she forced out, her smile rather brittle. ‘So long as they don’t mind what they get—it’s my turn to cook.’

‘Oh…No, it’s all right—I’ll cook,’ Annette offered quickly, her cheeks a pretty shade of pink. ‘I wouldn’t want to give you the extra work.’

Joanna interpreted this very astutely as Annette’s understandable desire to show off her excellent cooking skills. She laughed with dry humour. ‘All right—I’m more than happy to leave it to you.’

Annette’s eyes signalled her thanks, but her manner towards Greg was breezy. ‘Well, we’ll see you tonight, then. We usually work here till quite late, so we don’t eat till about nine. Will that be OK?’

‘Yes, of course. Er…it will, won’t it, Alex?’

The older man shrugged his wide shoulders in a gesture of acceptance. ‘Oh, I think we can manage it,’ he confirmed lightly, the incipient smile that lingered at the corners of his mouth indicating that he was mildly amused by what was going on. ‘Thank you for the invitation.’

Annette smiled up at him a little apprehensively; it was clear that, in spite of her earlier boldness, she found him rather intimidating. Which was probably just as well, Joanna reflected drily; he’d eat her for breakfast.

As the other couple moved away, Alex turned to her. ‘I hope it isn’t too much trouble for you?’ he enquired just a shade too solicitously—he knew how much of an effort it was going to cost her to sit through this meal.

‘Of course not,’ she returned, the hint of frost in her tone intended to warn him that even if the other two were hovering on the brink of romance, it changed nothing between them.

But he merely smiled with mocking humour. ‘Then I shall look forward to it,’ he murmured, impeccably polite. He held out his hand to her. ‘Until tonight.’

Joanna hesitated, her heart suddenly fluttering in alarm at the thought of allowing those strong, sensitive fingers to enfold her own. But if she avoided the challenge, he would have scored some kind of victory. So she kept the touch fleeting, drawing back before he had time to capture her.

‘Until tonight,’ she concurred.

With a farewell nod, he swung himself into the Land Rover. ‘Come on, Greg, we’d better get going—we’ve got a ferry to catch.’

The younger man had some difficulty tearing himself away, but with a last wave he too climbed into the Land Rover, and it disappeared down the road in a swirl of yellow dust. As soon as it was out of sight, Annette gave a little skip of joy, dancing in a circle.

‘Oh, Jo…I Isn’t he gorgeous’? You do like him, don’t you?’

Joanna smiled wryly. ‘He seems very nice,’ she agreed, trying not to sound too cynical. ‘And he’s certainly keen on you.’

‘Do you really think so?’ Annette’s brown eyes betrayed all the soaring leap of her emotions. ‘You’re not just saying that?’

Joanna gave her friend a playful hug. ‘You’d have to be blind not to see it.’ She felt a faint twinge of envy, recalling how she had once been so young and eager for life—before life had taught her some hard lessons.

‘I had to invite both of them.’ Annette added earnestly. ‘It would have looked much too obvious just to invite Greg by himself. I didn’t want him to think I was too forward. You didn’t mind, did you?’

Joanna laughed, struggling to keep her grip on her sense of humour. ‘Mind?’ she responded, feeling rather as if she was drowning. ‘Why on earth should I mind?’