CHAPTER THREE

      JACK finished his phone call and came back to her.

      ‘I’ve got to work,’ he told her briefly.

      Holly thought, Work! That’s all he’s interested in. I’m getting in the way of it.

      She nodded, not looking at him. ‘I’ll wait for your friend to bring my things and then I’ll go.’

      Inexplicably, that did not please Jack. ‘It will be late. And what if that guy has found out where you live?’

      Holly could not help herself. She shuddered at the thought. But giving way to panic was no solution. She had learned that well over the last five years.

      So she tilted her chin and said flippantly, ‘I won’t open the door.’

      In spite of the fact that he should be working, Jack did not go. He tapped his foot impatiently. But he did not move from the spot.

      ‘You could stay here.’

      ‘No, I couldn’t.’

      ‘Why not? I’ve reserved a room for you.’

      ‘Because I can’t afford it,’ Holly said patiently.

      That tapping foot was mesmerising. He seemed full of pent-up energy. What would it be like if he caught her up in it? What would it be like if he was not involved with work and on the point of leaving? What if he touched—?

      Holly caught her thoughts just as they were about to run away with her.

      ‘I can’t afford it,’ she said again, not entirely referring to the room rate.

      ‘I can.’

      Holly stiffened. Her years on the road had taught her that offers of free bed and board seldom came without strings.

      Jack read her mind, it seemed. His eyes darkened until they looked almost black.

      ‘No need to look like that. I told you, I’ve got to work tonight.’

      Holly felt a fool. She took refuge in indignation.

      ‘Well, what was I supposed to think? Most guys want something in return.’

      Their eyes locked. Holly could almost hear the clash of swords.

      And more than that. For a moment, turbulent impatience came off him in waves. As if he could not wait to be off and was furious with himself for staying. As if he could not help himself.

      She blinked, utterly disconcerted.

      Jack’s mouth thinned. ‘You’ve been playing with the wrong guys,’ he said curtly.

      ‘I—’

      He took no notice. ‘Still, it’s up to you. The room is there if you want it.’

      ‘But—’

      ‘No bill.’ He was nearly spitting the words out. ‘No payment in kind. Goodnight.’

      And he was gone before she could think of one word to stop him.

      ‘Damn,’ said Holly with real feeling.

      She had simmered down by the time Ramon got back with her things. He came into the bar bearing her flute case and an incongruous plastic bag with a dusty pair of jeans and her canvas satchel spilling out of it. Holly seized the bag and began to rummage.

      Ramon felt in his jacket pocket. ‘If you’re looking for your passport, I’ve got it here.’

      He gave her an odd look. Holly did not notice. She just grabbed the little booklet with relief.

      ‘There was no money,’ said Ramon conscientiously. ‘Or keys.’

      Holly grinned and pulled a slim fold of notes out of her back pocket. ‘I never take more than running-away money to the club. As for my key—’ She shook her wrist and Ramon saw that she wore a charm bracelet. A serviceable key was attached to it.