Catching Katie. Sophie Weston

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Catching Katie - Sophie  Weston


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time he raised both eyebrows.

      ‘I wanted to paint it,’ she flung back in the face of that patent disbelief.

      ‘Sure.’

      ‘I did.’

      He crossed his arms. ‘And who let you into the Mackenzies’ garden?’

      ‘No one. I mean, I did myself, of course. I—’

      He nodded as if that was exactly what he’d expected. ‘So you broke into their garden as well as this one?’ He reached out a hand and took her by the elbow. ‘Come on.’

      Katie jumped. He was mad. But his touch was an all too eloquent reminder. She had nearly surrendered to that terrible throbbing magnetism. Was it only minutes ago? Andrea had seen it coming, too. What was it she had said about hormones?

      Furious with herself, Katie shook his hand away.

      For a second his eyes flared. She’d been right, she thought. They were the most brilliant blue she had ever seen. Their expression shocked her. Then, in a blink, it was gone and he was shrugging again.

      ‘OK. Then you come into the house under your own steam.’

      ‘What?’

      His voice was dangerously calm. ‘I am not letting you out of my sight.’

      All Katie’s nerves leaped into tingling awareness again. She swallowed. ‘Why?’ she managed.

      ‘Oh, I like the innocent bewilderment,’ he congratulated her blandly. ‘It’s even better than the tears. You’re very good, you know. It’s just your misfortune I’m not the protective type.’

      She shook her head, confused.

      ‘Don’t bother,’ he told her, his voice hardening. ‘If you think I’m leaving you alone to make your escape, you’re not using that sharp brain of yours.’

      ‘But—’

      ‘Forget it. I’m going to the police. You stick by my side until they get here.’

      ‘The police?’ Katie’s voice rose to a squeak.

      He gave her a cool, surprised look. ‘Of course.’

      ‘But I haven’t done anything.’

      It did not move him an inch. ‘Because I was here and able to prevent you,’ he said pleasantly. ‘That doesn’t change your intentions. They should interest the police.’

      ‘Look,’ Katie said feverishly, ‘I’m house-sitting for the Mackenzies.’

      Her adversary looked bored.

      Her voice rose several tones. ‘I am. I told you this morning. Don’t you ever listen?’

      He was certainly not listening now. His face was like granite. ‘Tell that to the police.’

      He gestured towards the house. Katie hesitated. But there was no help for it. One look at his face told her he was not going to move until she went inside. And she really did not want him touching her again. She bit her lip and went towards a large open French window.

      The dog stopped chewing the branch as she went past. It raised its head in mild interest.

      ‘Good dog,’ said Katie sarcastically.

      ‘It is indeed,’ agreed the man. He was following altogether too close on her heels. To Katie’s ears he sounded disgustingly pleased with himself. ‘If the dog had not barked, I might not have known you were breaking in until it was too late.’

      Katie stopped, and turned so abruptly he almost walked into her.

      ‘Listen to me, you complacent bully,’ she said with heat. ‘You can call the police if you like, but you’re only going to look like an almighty fool when I prove who I am.’

      He did not like that, she was glad to see. His brows twitched together. He did not exactly back off but it did seem to give him pause. He scanned her face for a long, unnerving moment. Something in her outrage must have got through to him at last, Katie thought.

      ‘All right,’ he said after a minute. ‘Convince me.’

      She let out an explosive sigh of relief.

      ‘Well—’

      ‘Inside,’ he interrupted.

      ‘I’d rather—’ Katie began.

      But he had put his hand between her shoulderblades to guide her indoors. At once she felt a wave—no, a blast—of sensation. It was shocking and unwelcome and it made her forget everything she had been going to say.

      Katie swallowed. And went without another word.

      In the shadowed room he waved her to a deep sofa. Still shaken, Katie sat down without protest. She looked at him from under her lashes. If he had felt that zing of electricity when he touched her, he was hiding it well. The face he turned to her was utterly non-committal. She straightened her spine.

      She said crisply, ‘I really am house-sitting while the Mackenzies are away. I answered an advert in The Times.’

      He considered it. ‘All that proves is that you have good information. So you know the Mackenzies are away. Fine. But you must see that there are other ways you could have found out than by them pressing the key into your hand. And—I’m afraid you’ll have to forgive me—I find that less than reassuring.’

      He had a point. Katie was fair-minded enough to admit that—at least to herself. She did not, of course, tell him so.

      Instead she muttered, ‘Lisa Harding—er—engaged me.’ She added resentfully, ‘I told you that this morning too.’

      He looked at her for a long moment. You could not tell from his expression whether he knew what she was talking about. Certainly there was no sign of recognition in the cold eyes.

      He sighed. ‘This morning I had other things on my mind. Tell me about this deal you have with Lisa. What references did she take?’

      Katie stopped being fair-minded. Her temper flared. ‘What’s it got to do with you?’

      ‘It’s my responsibility to make this place secure. And keep it that way.’

      ‘Oh.’

      Lisa Harding had been desperate. She had checked with the school that Katie was who she said she was, but she had not asked for references. And she had given Katie only the sketchiest breakdown of her task. Neighbours had barely figured. All Katie knew about the next-door house was that it was owned by a millionaire who was a fanatical anti-noise freak but fortunately was seldom in residence. A security expert had not been mentioned.

      Katie looked doubtfully across at the man. He did not look like anybody’s staff.

      She said slowly, ‘How do I know that?’

      ‘What?’ She had disconcerted him.

      ‘You might be pulling a double bluff,’ she pointed out. ‘Perhaps you are the intruder.’

      ‘What are you talking about?’

      ‘Burglary,’ said Katie, warming to her theme. ‘I fell out of the tree and disturbed you.’

      ‘You did that all right,’ he muttered.

      Katie decided not to hear him.

      ‘Saturday must be the perfect day. Especially if the old boy who owns the place is away. So you start accusing me while I’m still disorientated. Before I can ask you what you’re up to,’ she finished triumphantly.

      The man appeared to be speechless. Katie found it exhilarating. She beamed.

      He said curtly, ‘This is nonsense and you know it.’

      ‘You would say that, wouldn’t you?’

      He gave


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