Perfect Strangers. Laura Martin
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voice didn’t mar her first impression of authority and power and success. Deep, with a gravelly masculine undertone that brooked no argument. Precise, too. Direct.
Olivia glanced briefly across to witness the reaction of the bullish, red-faced taxi man and then her eyes were fixed once more on the magnificent face.
‘Now just you look here!’ The taxi driver’s tone and demeanour were depressingly predictable. Olivia stood silently, unable to drag her gaze away from the formidable figure, as the driver’s aggressive tone filled the chilly spring afternoon air.
What was wrong with her all of a sudden? she wondered. Had the bump to her face done some real damage? Stop staring like a besotted idiot! she chided silently. You’ve come across a thousand handsome men before! But not like this. Olivia inhaled a breath and tried to steady her breathing. This man was different.
‘You were driving too fast and you know it.’ The slightly hooded gaze was as direct as the words used, the deep voice clipped and assured. ‘This is a narrow country lane, not the M25. Just give me your name and insurance details and quit the bluster. I’m not going to waste my time arguing with you.’ He glanced with irritation at the slight dent in the Range Rover’s bumper. ‘You’re lucky; the damage to my vehicle is negligible, so your bill won’t be too extensive.’
‘I’m lucky? Now wait a minute!’ The flabby face turned a deeper shade of puce. The taxi driver moved forward angrily, and for a moment Olivia thought he was going to lose his temper completely and actually embark on physical violence. A disastrous course of action. Surely he could see that? she thought. One blow from that tall, powerful physique and the pugnacious little man would be laid out cold.
‘You have a passenger, I see.’ The dark, arrogant gaze was flicked in Olivia’s direction. She burned as he studied her face, feeling the flames of awareness rising as if he had touched her, as if. . .as if he had done more than that. Such eyes, she thought. Such presence.
‘Are you OK?’ She saw a slight softening of the mouth, a concern momentarily in the deep, dark eyes. ‘You look a little pale.’
She nodded, conscious of a curious reaction at being addressed directly; exhilaration, rapture, a sudden surge of well-being that made absolutely no sense at all. He was. . .magnificent. ‘Yes. . .yes, I’m fine,’ she murmured. ‘I just banged my cheek a little on contact, that’s all.’
He walked slowly towards her, ignoring the taxi driver, who stood near by with his face set in an angry scowl. ‘Where? Here?’ Shockingly the man, the stranger, raised a hand and placed cool fingers to her face, touching the slightly reddened skin with a gentleness that completely disarmed. Olivia’s pulse began an erratic beat. He smelt wonderful; a mixture of fresh cologne and suede jacket and fresh, clean skin. A perfect combination. A potential feast for all five of her senses.
‘Looks as if there will be a slight bruise. Your face could end up being quite sore.’ His touch lingered. ‘If I were you I’d sue.’
‘Now look here!’
More bluster from the taxi man, but Olivia wasn’t listening, and neither, it seemed, was the stranger. Her eyes rested on the tanned throat, the curl of dark hair visible at the opening of the shirt, as he continued to make contact.
‘What’s your name?’
She tried to still the fluttering in her stomach as intense jet eyes lingered on her face. Feeling like this, juvenile, gauche, unable to identify a million and one other emotions, was unnerving to say the least. ‘Olivia.’ Her voice came out as little more than a squeak. She cleared her throat and tried again. ‘Olivia Hamilton.’
‘Jake Savage.’ His hand fell from her cheek at last and was offered in a greeting that seemed totally natural, totally right, despite the absurdity of the situation. ‘Pleased to meet you.’ Olivia, sensing the dry humour in his tone, placed her own hand in his, briefly, silently. ‘And you are?’ He broke contact completely and the dark gaze switched direction, the tone hardening in an instant as the taxi driver was once again put under formidable scrutiny.
‘Oh, no, mate!’ The small man shook his head. ‘No chance! This bang is your fault.’ The taxi driver walked around to the front of his crumpled bonnet. ‘Just look at this! I want your details, your name. This passenger’s my witness. She’ll tell you I wasn’t driving too fast. Won’t yer, love?’
A patronising arm was suddenly being wound possessively around her shoulders. Olivia extricated herself and took a few steps away from the stocky figure. She didn’t see why she should lie to save him. It wasn’t her way; never had been, never would be.
She took a steadying breath. ‘I’m afraid,’ she announced in a clear voice that bore no resemblance to the one she had used with Jake Savage, ‘that I thought you were taking the bends too fast.’ She glanced at the spiteful, angry face and decided to go on. ‘And you certainly didn’t keep to the speed limit when you went through the village.’
She was cursed immediately, the sharp words uttered with such unnecessary venom that Olivia stood shocked, her mouth sagging open a little at the abusive words used to describe her. She tried to think of something to say in return, but before she could utter a single word Jake Savage was gripping the denim shirt and the foul-mouthed taxi driver was being spun away, slammed forcibly against his own crumpled bonnet.
‘Apologise to the lady!’ The voice, low and controlled, was of a man used to being obeyed. Olivia watched in amazement as the taxi driver was lifted bodily by the lapels of his shirt and slammed back down on the car with a thud. There was a moment of tense, shocked silence. ‘Go on!’ Jake Savage’s voice was as quietly menacing as his expression. ‘Do it now before I’m tempted to knock that thick skull of yours off your pathetic little shoulders!’
A hastily muttered apology rang out in the dank, cold air. ‘Now,’ Jake Savage gave the man his freedom accompanied by a look of irritated disgust, ‘get back in this pathetic heap of rust and get out of my sight before I do something that I might regret!’
Olivia stared down at her luggage, dumped unceremoniously in the middle of the road. It was extremely gloomy now. The dark rain clouds overhead were preparing to do their worst. ‘You didn’t get his name or insurance number,’ she murmured, glancing back down the lane, her nostrils prickling at the smell of burning rubber.
‘The logo of the firm he drives for was written all over the car—that will do.’
The reply was terse. Olivia raised her head, pushed back honey-coloured strands of hair from her eyes and looked straight into the disturbingly handsome face. ‘Did you have to manhandle him like that?’ she murmured, still unable to fully accept all that had happened. ‘It. . .it was a little over the top, wasn’t it?’
The firm mouth tightened into a line of disbelief. Arrogant ebony eyes speared her face. ‘You prefer being insulted by a goon?’
‘He seemed pretty amenable before,’ Olivia replied miserably, thinking about her futile hopes of a happy, trouble-free arrival. ‘He was probably just tired. Or maybe he had money worries,’ she added as an after-thought; ‘perhaps he has a wife and any number of children to support and the accident was the last straw—’
‘Stop making excuses for him! He was a foul-mouthed bully and if you can’t see that then you must be particularly stupid.’
Anger flared out of nowhere. Olivia narrowed her eyes and glared. ‘It was your attitude that made him mad. I’m sure if you had handled it a little more tactfully. . .’ There was a pause as he surveyed her. Olivia felt uncertainty growing under the withering gaze and discovered she didn’t like this new phenomenon.
‘I’m not prepared to waste my time arguing with you,’ Jake Savage asserted with crisp authority. ‘Now, where is it you are headed?’ He pulled back the cuff of his jacket and glanced briefly at a silver Rolex. ‘If it’s not too far I may be able to give you a lift.’
‘Just may?’ Olivia drew herself up to her