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She offered her apologies but they were brushed aside and, somehow or other, she ended up as the guest of honour. She couldn’t help wondering what effect this status was having on Rob Leicester, who had actually done the cooking.
But there were staff members to do the serving, several colourfully clad waitresses with flowers in their hair, and it was a feast every bit worthy of Camp Ondine’s reputation.
Not only that but some fine wines were also flowing and earning the respect of her tour party. Caiti didn’t indulge herself but beneath a marvellous array of stars, with flaming braziers lighting the barbecue area, she felt happy and fulfilled to see the guests really enjoying themselves.
It must have something to do with me, she assured herself, and sent a swift little prayer heavenwards that the rest of this tour would be as successful.
Then, when the guests began to sing the ‘Marseillaise’, she joined in with gusto, and perfect pitch, but insisted that since they were in Australia they should at least be able to sing ‘Waltzing Matilda’.
There followed an hilarious half-hour while she tried to translate but finally, although with some very strange pronunciation, she got a not bad rendition of a couple of verses, helped along by Rob and the staff who joined in.
Finally she glanced at her watch and decided it was timely to mention that they had an early start in the morning. Everyone groaned but gradually they took themselves off to bed.
‘A successful evening, Miss Galloway.’
Caiti looked up from the paperwork she was checking at the reception desk; she was determined to leave all the correct vouchers so there could be no confusion in the morning. ‘Thanks to you and your wonderful food, Mr Leicester,’ she replied formally. ‘It’s also a marvellous spot.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’ He folded his arms and leant back against a wall.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ A tinge of sharpness overlaid some of her formality.
‘I’ve revised an opinion or two.’
She shrugged. ‘I’m sure it’s good for one to shake up one’s opinions now and then. Which ones?’
He took his time. In other words he looked her over thoroughly as he had an uncanny habit of doing before he said, ‘I think you could charm the birds out of the trees.’
Their unsmiling gazes locked until Caiti said slowly, ‘Why do I get the feeling that’s not exactly a compliment?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Then I’ll tell you,’ she returned swiftly. ‘I’m quite sure “charm” is not a commodity you value.’
‘What gave you that idea?’
‘Oh, come on!’ She closed her eyes briefly. ‘Let’s not beat about the bush. You don’t like me, you’re quite sure I’m trading on “charm” to get this job done, and by the way—what did you put in that drink you brought me?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Nothing alcoholic bar a dash of Grenadine. Are you saying I tried to get you drunk?’
She paused and bit her lip. ‘It…certainly revived me.’
‘So I noticed.’ His eyes glinted with a tinge of mockery. ‘I can assure you there was nothing more to it.’
‘Well,’ she hesitated, feeling as if she’d had the wind taken out of her sails, ‘well, even if you didn’t try to get me drunk, I’m sick and tired of your continuous disapproval.’
‘It’s not all disapproval, Miss Galloway.’ He straightened and stepped forward.
Caiti’s eyes widened and she rather hastily moved a few steps so the desk was between them at the same time as she shook a finger at him. ‘Now, now, Mr Leicester, none of that!’
Rob Leicester stopped dead, and started to laugh softly.
Completely disconcerted, Caiti blinked several times. ‘It’s not funny!’
‘No, but you are. Is that how you fight them off?’
‘Off? Who?’
‘All the men on your tours who fancy you rotten,’ he suggested.
‘It might interest you to know that that problem has never reared its ugly head,’ she replied tartly.
‘Only a matter of time.’
Caiti felt herself beginning to lose her temper completely. ‘Will you just go away, Mr Leicester, and stop tormenting me?’
‘Sure,’ he said easily. ‘But just so as there is no misunderstanding, Miss Galloway, I may not approve of you entirely but I do,’ he leant over the desk and took her chin lightly in his fingers, ‘fancy you.’
Their eyes locked, and the gold-flecked depths of his were filled with irony. Then he released her and strolled away.
‘And it may interest you to know, Mr Leicester,’ she said coldly and clearly, and waited until he stopped and turned back to her, ‘that if I were a man, I’d knock you to the floor!’
She swept her paperwork into her briefcase and strode away with her hair flying and serious anger in her heart.
He caught her before she was able to leave the reception area and there followed an undignified little struggle.
‘Just,’ he caught her wrists finally, ‘just listen! I’m sorry. That wasn’t a very nice thing to say.’
Caiti was panting from her exertions and this caught her off guard. She stopped struggling and did a double take.
He observed her surprise with a wry glint in his eyes and added, ‘I apologise unreservedly. But some women do trade on their looks and their figures.’
‘There’s not a great deal to trade on, I wouldn’t have thought!’
‘Then you thought wrong, Miss Galloway,’ he said gravely. ‘You may not be classically beautiful but you have a wonderful, slender litheness in the way you move, you’re the essence of chic, your hands, hair and eyes are stunningly beautiful and you have an irresistible personality.’
‘So why…?’
‘I’ve just worked out that it’s genuine.’
‘Because I wanted to knock you down?’
He nodded ruefully. ‘With very real longing in your voice.’
Caiti took an unexpected breath, and he released her wrists.
She rubbed them involuntarily.
‘Sorry about that too,’ he said barely audibly.
‘Apologies accepted,’ she replied rather breathlessly, ‘although—’
‘You’re right,’ he broke in. ‘Let’s not jump the gun even if all misunderstandings have been cleared up. When are you due back at Camp Ondine, Miss Galloway?’
‘Uh…’ she did some rapid mental calculations ‘…uh…in a fortnight, I think.’
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