Diana Hamilton - The Bride Wore Scarlet

Annie shook with temper, deep misery and a hateful frisson of sexual awareness. He did lust after her, despite what he’d said. She could see it in the shadowed smouldering eyes, the lines that suddenly bracketed that long, sensual mouth, the jerk of a muscle at the side of his hard jaw.

But his latest vile insults armoured her, didn’t they? Involuntarily, her teeth chattered, and his mouth curled in slow, mocking response. ‘Tough luck, Annie. Still, some you lose, some you win.’ He shrugged impressive shoulders. ‘You’re on the loose again, but don’t try to get your claws into me. The way you responded in my arms earlier told me you wouldn’t be averse to ditching Mark and moving on and up the ladder of financial security.’

Daniel turned and tugged the sage-green heavy linen curtains over the window, shutting out the stormy night. For some reason he was unable to look at her pale, bewildered face. Annie Kincaid was surely in the wrong profession. Her acting ability—quite apart from the way she looked—would have taken her far.

He mentally squashed the unwelcome desire to take her in his arms, soothe the look of hurt from those alluring pansy-purple eyes, putting the urge down to twelve months of celibacy. He had no intention on following up, taking what this sexy little gold-digger would doubtless offer, given half an opportunity.

At one time, after he’d learned that she’d dumped Glover, he’d been severely tempted to find her—if only to stop the regularly occurring dreams he’d had. Tormenting dreams of her naked body in his arms, writhing beneath him as they took their aborted wild encounter of that December night to its natural conclusion.

Dreams that had left him edgy, tense, strangely aware for the very first time of an emptiness in his life.

Fortunately, common sense had ruled his hormones. He hadn’t known, then, that she’d been working for Mark, had bewitched him, too. Obviously she’d seen Mark as the better prospect, had dropped Rupert Glover flat. That he, Daniel Faber, had failed to follow up on her unspoken yet explicit invitation would have been written off with a shrug of those pretty shoulders.

Annie watched him, too wet and miserable to try to change his opinion of her. It didn’t really matter what he thought of her. But would Mark believe her when she tried to explain what Daniel had misguidedly done? Or would he believe what his brother had deliberately set out to make him believe?

‘How can I face Mark after this?’ she asked thinly, and saw him turn back to her, his face blank. ‘Embarrassing won’t begin to cover it. He is my boss—’

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