CHAPTER THREE

      VIGADÓ had changed into casual beige trousers and jacket, as she’d hoped, and cradled a drink in his hand. It worried her that he didn’t look surprised to see her at all.

      ‘An accident!’ she wailed, displaying her legs.

      ‘Yes?’

      ‘My legs are turning marmalade!’

      ‘Yes.’

      Men must have been kidding her about her sex-appeal! she thought irritably. Here she was, all legs and heaving bosoms, and throwing herself on his mercy, and he wasn’t affected at all! Her lip quivered mutinously. ‘I can’t put my clothes on over this!’ She waggled a bright knee about. He didn’t even look down. So she caught his arm and moved in closer, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes. ‘I know it’s a cheek, but can I…could I use your shower?’

      ‘There’s a staff washroom downstairs.’ He made to close the door.

      Her knee jammed in it quickly and she leaned all her weight against it, finding herself almost falling into the apartment when he let the door go. ‘There’s no scrubbing brush,’ she explained. ‘I’ve run out of turps—’

      ‘You want to use my bathroom.’

      ‘Yes,’ she said demurely, hoping he’d dumped his suit there.

      His mouth looked rather cynical. ‘I suppose you know what you’re doing.’

      It seemed to Mariann that his voice was charged with husky indolence, as though he had plans, and she felt the nerves curling her toes. ‘Of course,’ she answered, not at all sure.

      ‘Come in. I’ll show you the bathroom.’

      ‘Thanks,’ she said brightly. ‘I’d better get that loofah workin’ smartish!’ she joked, a little worried about his motives. ‘In there? I can manage from here.’ Accelerating her pace, she strode into the bathroom and made to slam the door—but he was there, behind her. ‘I can manage,’ she said again, pointedly, and scanned the room. No discarded clothes. Darn’

      ‘Please allow me.’ Reaching past her, he turned on the bath taps and sprinkled exotic oils into the water. His courtesy was all wrong but she’d known the risk she’d be running. Searching for some diversionary remark, she leant forward and let her fingers ripple through the scented water. ‘Smells nice. Like Christmas pudding.’

      ‘Perfumes and spices of the Orient,’ he murmured, his voice betraying a suppressed laugh.

      Her spirits lifted considerably. If she could keep him amused, she’d be all right. ‘That explains it. My first time in a sunken bath, you know!’ she confided, trying to sound dazzled by the experience. ‘I won’t hog it for long. Please carry on with whatever you were doing——’

      ‘Thank you. I will. I was about to have a bath and turn in for the night,’ he said smoothly.

      ‘Oh! Yes…well, I expect you’re still tired from all those meetings and never sitting down—’

      ‘What was that you said?’

      She ground her teeth with self-anger. There was no reason why she should know that he never allowed people to sit on chairs at his meetings! Who’d tell a decorator’s assistant that? ‘Lucky guess. I can see you now,’ she said, her eyes glazing with a far-away look, ‘striding up and down, telling everyone what to do while they sit riveted. Now,’ she continued, turning off the taps and anxious to escape his interrogation, ‘I’ll be quick,’ she promised breathily. ‘Then you can come in—’

      ‘Can I just clarify this?’ he said silkily. ‘You’re inviting me to have a bath with you?’

      ‘A—a bath?’ Shocked, she swallowed away the lump in her throat. ‘I—I—’

      You’re very generous. Thank you. I accept, he drawled, loosening his tie.

      Mariann’s eyes grew enormous. ‘Whoa there!’ she rasped. ‘I meant I’d clean myself up quickly so you could settle in for a quiet night!’