Merlyn Forrest Steele couldn’t refuse the offer—work for a living for one month, and her father would stop his clumsy matchmaking attempts. Maybe she’d somehow find a man who had eyes for her, not her bank account, and meanwhile, she could prove she was no dilettante heiress.

So it was ironic that the first man to penetrate her defenses in her new life would be the one who was looking for just that…Not that she’d have the sardonic, arrogant Cameron Thorpe, even if he asked her. Let him go ahead and marry some insipid little heiress—he’d get exactly what he deserved…But why did this thought give Merlyn no comfort at all?

Also available from MIRA Books and DIANA PALMER

THE RAWHIDE MAN

CATTLEMAN’S CHOICE

FRIENDS AND LOVERS

DIAMOND GIRL

PASSION FLOWER

CHAMPAGNE GIRL

ROOMFUL OF ROSES

AFTER THE MUSIC

ONCE IN PARIS

RAGE OF PASSION

PAPER ROSE

FIT FOR A KING

MOST WANTED

Lady Love

Diana Palmer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Shirley and Cordia

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter One

Merlyn Forrest Steele’s eyes were the same shade of green as her father’s, but Jared Steele’s had a twinkle that, at the moment, she was too angry to match. She glared at him from the plush white depths of the horseshoe-shaped sofa, its covering emphasizing the jet blackness of her long hair.

“It’s all your fault,” she told him shortly.

His eyebrows arched. “What is?”

“Adam.”

He gave a world-weary sigh and stuck his hands deep in the pockets of his charcoal gray suit pants. His silver mustache twitched as he frowned. “I see what you mean,” he confessed. “I meant well.”

“I didn’t mean your matchmaking attempts,” she explained. Her hand smoothed a wrinkle in her green silk slacks. “I meant the fact that you’re so rich.”

“I often think of donating my fortune to charity and throwing myself on the mercy of strangers,” he murmured, tongue-in-cheek.

She glared at him again. “I never know if it’s me or your money that men want,” she said. “Adam seemed to be head over heels in love with me, and I was…warming to him. Then I found out that he only got engaged to me because he had dreams of becoming your business partner! Now where in the world did he get an idea like that? Especially since he works for a rival computer company!”

Her father turned away and looked out the window. “Look at that sun,” he said with enthusiasm. “Imagine, it’s spring already!”

“Evading the issue, huh?” she challenged.

He hunched his shoulders and glanced at her. “Well, darling, you aren’t ugly,” he reminded her.

“I’m not poor, either—that’s the trouble.”

“He seemed like a good prospect,” her father murmured defensively.

So he had, Merlyn thought. Her father had introduced her to Adam James at a party. Jared Steele felt that, at twenty-six, his only child was ripe for the joys of wedded bliss. So for the past year he’d been flinging unsuspecting males at Merlyn’s feet in what she considered a pathetically obvious way. If her mother had still been alive, perhaps her father would have been too occupied to bother Merlyn. But, as it was, he was determined to marry her off, and no eligible bachelor of reasonable means escaped his eagle eye.

Adam James had seemed to be a prize catch. A minor executive in a rival computer company, he had come to Jared’s attention at a computer conference. Her father had dragged him home to Merlyn as proudly as a hunting dog carrying a duck in its mouth.

Adam, for his part, had seemed immediately smitten and had pursued Merlyn with considerable enthusiasm. Right up until the very end, she’d been fooled by his persuasive charm, despite the fact that only her mind agreed to the liaison. Her body had been ice-cold in his arms; somehow, he’d never managed to stir her. No man had managed that in her virginal life, although she was certain she had passion in her. She loved fast cars and excitement and all sorts of hobbies that her father had predicted would be the death of her.

She hadn’t gotten over Adam in the month since their engagement had been broken. She’d gone off to France for two weeks and come back with a suntan, a sour disposition, and a grudge against her disappointed parent. Now she was bored again, and nagging him had become a rather satisfying diversion for her.

“I want to be loved for myself,” she muttered.

His eyebrows arched again. “I love you.”

“Prove it,” she challenged. “Stop throwing men at me!”

He threw up his hands. “My God, all I want is a few grandchildren!”

“Adopt!”

He glowered at her. “Shame on you, moaning over being rich. Plenty of women would love to walk in your shoes.”

“Maybe I’d like to be poor for a change!” she shot back, rising from the sofa. “And have a chance to be liked for myself alone.”

“So, do it,” he dared her, with narrowed eyes. “I dare you. If you think it’s so wonderful being poor, you go try it. I grew up with nothing, but you’ve always had the advantages. Let’s see you get along without them. For, say, a month.” His eyes twinkled mischievously and he wiggled his mustache, which had more hair in it than he had on his head. “Live without money. Work for your keep. And if you can manage that for a month, without telling anyone who you are or what you’re worth, I’ll swear off matchmaking for life. Cross my heart.”

She pursed her lips, and her own green eyes began to twinkle. “A month, huh?”

“A month.”

“What kind of work could I do?”

“You’ve got a degree in history,” he reminded her.

“Lots of people have.”

He looked thoughtful. “Yes, but I think I know a way you could use it.”

She cocked her head warily. “Oh, no, you don’t.”

“No men,” he said, holding up his hands defensively. “Just a lovely lady who writes torrid historical romances. She lives on Lake Lanier, north of here.”

“In Gainesville?” she asked, and he nodded. She studied him. “What would I do?”

“Help her with some research on her next book. Jack Thomas was talking about it yesterday. We were at the board meeting of that college—you know, we’re both trustees. He knows Cameron Thorpe, the Charleston banker, well. The writer is Thorpe’s mother. She lives alone, except for a housekeeper.”

It was sounding better and better to Merlyn. She knew Lake Lanier. It was a man-made lake, Georgia’s biggest, and one of her good friends raced at Road Atlanta near there. Dick Langley had an enormous home on the lake, which she’d visited occasionally.

“She’s a writer?” She frowned. “Does she write under her own name?”

“No. Her given name is Lila Thorpe,” he said, “but she writes as Copper O’Mara.”

She gasped. “But I read her!” she burst out. “She’s one of my favorites!”

“All the more reason to apply for the job,” he chuckled. “Want me to call Jack Thomas and ask if he knows her phone number? And don’t worry, I won’t blow your cover. I’ll say I have an acquaintance who might qualify for the job.”

“Fair enough,” she said. “I’ll show you I’m no society darling.”

He studied her slenderness and smiled with pure pride. “You’ve got class, though. Just like your mother.”

“But she was beautiful,” Merlyn argued.

He nodded. “The most beautiful creature on earth. I still miss her, you know.” He turned away. “Well, let’s get this show on the road, daughter.” He picked up the phone.

***

Three days later, on a rainy Friday, Merlyn drove up to the large two-story lake house where Lila Thorpe lived. It was a fieldstone and wood building as beautiful as its natural surroundings. Beyond it was the lake, with a boathouse and a private cove and pier. Around it was open land, with hills and pine trees and none of the cluttered construction one found closer in to Gainesville.

Merlyn imagined that the estate would be beautiful in the sun, and she could hardly wait for the weather to break and the warm breezes to herald blossoming things. There were dogwood trees all around the house, along with small shrubs; the dogwoods were in bud already.

She carried her suitcase up to the front porch and rang the doorbell. A small, thin woman in a cotton dress let her in.

“I’m Tilly,” she introduced herself. “Mrs. Thorpe is in the living room. If you’ll follow me?”

There was a quick scurrying sound on the staircase in the long hall. Merlyn got a glimpse of a dark-haired, dark-eyed girl of about twelve who hesitated a few steps up.

“Hello.” Merlyn grinned, tossing back her long black hair. “I’m Merlyn Forrest,” she said, deliberately leaving off the “Steele.”

The child, obviously shy, stared at her, unsmiling. “Hello,” she said after a minute.

“This is a lovely house,” Merlyn said. “Do you live here with Mrs. Thorpe?”

“She’s my grandmother.”

How formal the child sounded, how repressed. Why did she live with her grandmother? Where were her parents? Was Cameron Thorpe, the man her father had mentioned, this little girl’s father?

“This way, Miss,” Tilly called when she realized that Merlyn was lagging behind.

“Yes, excuse me,” Merlyn said. She winked at the girl and walked on.

Lila Thorpe was tall, thin and graying and had twinkling eyes. She held out a slender hand to shake Merlyn’s extended one. “You must be Merlyn,” she said, smiling. “I’m so glad you’re here! I simply can’t research and write at the same time, and I have this incredible pull toward English royalty at the moment. What do you know about the Plantagenets and the Tudors?”

Merlyn caught her breath with a little laugh. “In fact, just a smattering, though the English kings have always fascinated me. But I brought my history books along, and I can find anything you need. How about that?”

“Perfect!” Lila sighed.

“Is she going to live here?” the little girl asked from the doorway.

Merlyn turned and found the child hesitating at the door. She was wearing a white and brown cotton frock, knee-high socks, and patent leather shoes. She had a manner that was much older than her years, and eyes that didn’t smile.

“Yes,” Lila said warmly. “Come in, Amanda, and meet Merlyn Forrest. She’s going to help me research my new book.”

“She told me her name in the hall,” Amanda murmured.

“Yes, I did, but you didn’t tell me yours,” Merlyn said warmly. “Did you know that Amanda means ‘worthy of love’? It was my mother’s middle name.”

The child’s huge eyes widened. “Really?” Her shoulders hunched. “My mother is dead.”

“So is mine,” Merlyn said with quiet sympathy. “It’s rather lonely, isn’t it? At least you have your grandmother.”

Amanda tilted her head, studying the newcomer. Merlyn was wearing jeans and a velour pullover. She had purposely avoided designer pieces, choosing instead clothes in some medium price range that wouldn’t arouse suspicion. But with her usual flair, she was wearing a vibrant Mexican poncho over the outfit. She looked colorful and bright and a little nonconformist.

“That’s so pretty,” Amanda remarked of the poncho. “It’s like a rainbow.”

“I got it…I mean, a friend brought it to me from Mexico,” Merlyn said. In fact, it had been purchased by Merlyn herself in Mexico City, but it wouldn’t do to let them know how well traveled she was. She grinned. “I’ll let you wear it sometime, if you like.”

Amanda brightened, and then her face fell and she shrugged. “Daddy wouldn’t let me,” she muttered. “He won’t even let me wear jeans. He’s afraid I’ll grow up to be a tomboy.”

Daddy sure must be weird, Merlyn thought, but she didn’t say anything.

“My son is a banker,” Lila confided. “My only living child. There was another boy, but he was stillborn. Cam is all I have now. His wife died some years ago.”

Odd wording, Merlyn thought as Tilly brought coffee and cake on a tray and interrupted the conversation. It was strange that Lila hadn’t called her late daughter-in-law by name. But that was none of her business, and she wasn’t the interfering sort. The son sounded awful. She was glad he didn’t live at the lake house. For an instant she had feared that her father might be matchmaking again, but she quickly dismissed the idea. Cameron Thorpe probably looked like Dracula. Certainly he sounded like him.

Merlyn and Lila spent a pleasant afternoon getting to know each other. Surprisingly, Amanda stayed with them; she seemed drawn to Merlyn. Merlyn felt a tug of affection herself, because she’d been lonely like that after her mother’s death, when her father had buried himself in his work and had no time for her. Perhaps that was Amanda’s problem, too.

By bedtime Merlyn had some idea of Lila’s working schedule and the scope of the project. She pored over her texts before she went to bed, seeking out bits and pieces of information to give Lila the next morning.

She liked her room. It overlooked the lake and featured French Provincial furniture, right down to the canopied bed and a blue and white color scheme. Already she felt at home. She was going to prove to her father once and for all that she could make it without his fortune. After Adam, she wanted no more attempts at matchmaking.

Adam. Funny, when he’d let it slip that he expected to become her father’s business partner at the same time that he became her husband, she hadn’t really been heartbroken. She didn’t even cry when he made it clear that the marriage wouldn’t take place without the partnership. Her pride was hurt much more than her heart.

She sighed and put Adam out of her mind. She couldn’t seem to settle down that night. Perhaps it was the new environment, the unfamiliar surroundings. Or maybe it was the thunderstorm raging outside. She got up to make herself a cup of hot chocolate. Maybe a warm drink would help her to sleep.

Out in the hallway, it was pitch black. It must be close to midnight, Merlyn thought. The rest of the household was asleep. The darkness was sporadically lit by flashes of lightning from the storm. Getting her bearings during one of the lightning bursts, she hurried down the hall, turned the corner and ran headlong into a formidable barrier.

Chapter Two

Merlyn hated him immediately. Of course, he couldn’t have known that she’d be standing in the middle of the hall in the dark at twelve o’clock at night. On the other hand, she hadn’t expected him to blow in out of a horrible thunderstorm and knock her down onto the thick pile carpet.

“Of all the…” came a voice as black and deep as thunder rumbling. “Who the hell are you?”

She threw back her long black hair. The next lightning flash caught her glaring into a face that would have gone well with a copy of Jane Eyre and antique furniture.

He was big. Bigger than any man she’d ever met face to face. Tall, built like a wrestler. Hands like hams, holding a black attaché case and an umbrella. He wasn’t wearing a hat, and his hair was thick and black and bushy and needed trimming. He was wearing a blue pinstriped suit, and the eyes she couldn’t quite see under his heavy eyebrows seemed to throw off sparks.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” she shot back, too shaken to get up. “You were moving like a freight train! Come to think of it,” she added darkly, “you look a little like one.”

“Get up from there.”

“Yes, sir!” she said smartly, glaring at him as she pulled herself to her feet. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her, so she pulled the thin blue robe closer around her slender, half-clad body. Her feet were bare; she hadn’t thought about slippers. She hadn’t even brought any, come to think of it.

“Well?” he growled.

“That,” she said with a sweet smile, “is a deep subject. And you look like a man with a shallow mind. Were you invited, or are you a cat burglar?” She looked him up and down. He was doing a great impression of a man about to explode. “Make that an elephant burglar. Boy, I’d love to see you try to sneak up on somebody.”

Her grin didn’t seem to impress him much. He slammed the attaché case to the floor. “Who the hell are you?”

“Miss Jane Eyre, sir,” she said, making him a sweeping curtsy. “I’ve come to tutor the youngster and provide romantic interest for you.”

“Oh, my God, I don’t believe this,” he muttered, running a hand over his unshaven face. “Six hours on airplanes, two waiting in baggage claim…Lady, unless you want to spend what’s left of the night in the nearest police station, you’d damned well better come up with some quick answers.”

“There’s a phone in the living room,” she suggested. “I’ll look up the number for you.”

He moved forward, and she moved backward. “Now, now,” she cautioned, stumbling. “Temper, temper. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Not damned likely,” he said darkly, and kept coming.

“Mrs. Thorpe!” Merlyn screamed, and went tearing off down the hall toward that lady’s room.

“What?” Lila appeared in her doorway, looking disheveled and drowsy. She gaped at Merlyn cowering against the wall, and then at the big, angry man almost on her.

“Cameron!” she exclaimed, a smile appearing on her lined face. “Well, what an unexpected delight on a horrible evening like this. Come here and let me look at you, dear!

“I see you’ve already met Merlyn Forrest,” she continued, smiling at the younger woman pressed against the wall. “Merlyn, this is my son, Cameron.”

“Your son?” Merlyn blinked. “This is your son?” She stared at the man, who was easily twice his mother’s weight and the exact opposite of her fair coloring.

“Who is she?” Cameron Thorpe asked coldly.

“Now, dear…” his mother began.

“Who?”

“Merlyn Forrest,” Lila said, exasperated. “Don’t you remember that I was looking for someone to help me do some research on my new book?”

He stared at Merlyn as if he couldn’t imagine that she had enough brains to be able to read.

“How did you find her?” he asked curtly.

“In the Yellow Pages,” Merlyn murmured, “under ‘brilliant research associates.”’

He gave her a hard look. “Mother?” he persisted.

Lila sighed. “A friend of yours, in fact, that Jack Thomas. He knew someone who knew someone.…”

“Does she have credentials?” he asked with a suspicious glance at Merlyn.

“I have a B.A. in history,” Merlyn said sweetly. “And pretending hostility toward me will not work, sir. You and I were obviously meant for each other—you just won’t admit it.” She batted her long eyelashes demurely. “It was like lightning striking, when our eyes met.…”

He muttered something she was glad she didn’t really hear, and went back to pick up his umbrella and attaché case.

Lila was trying not to smile. “Cameron, don’t you dare try to scare off my new assistant,” she said after a minute. “I can’t do this book alone, and I have to have Merlyn for the next month at least.”

“A month?” He looked hunted.

“She’ll be company for Amanda and me,” Lila said shortly. “Amanda likes her.”

So this was the little girl’s father, Merlyn thought. Cameron the Cold Heart. He did fit the image of a businessman who was all business all the time. No wonder the little girl looked so repressed. She didn’t have a chance with a father like that. She studied Cameron Thorpe quietly and wondered how he’d look in red polka-dotted boxer shorts. She had to bite her lip hard to keep from bursting out laughing.

“I thought children were supposed to be perceptive,” he muttered.

Merlyn gave him the once-over and tugged her blue robe closer. “I’m so glad you like me, Mr. Thorpe,” she sighed theatrically. She grinned. “I like you, too. Dark, somber men really turn me on.”

Once again, he looked as though he might explode. His mother, kind soul, moved quickly in front of Merlyn.

“Now, dear,” she told Cameron gently, “it’s late and you must be tired. Why don’t you get some rest? Can you stay the entire weekend?”

“Yes,” he said. “And if you could keep Jane Eyre here out of sight while my guests are in residence…?”

“Guests?” Lila asked.

“Charlotte and Delle Radner,” he said. “They’re coming up from Atlanta tomorrow.”

Lila sighed. “Oh.” She didn’t look enthusiastic. “Of course, your friends are welcome.”

“You’ll get used to them,” he promised her with a slight softening.

“I suppose I’ll have to,” came the resigned reply.

“I suppose one of them is your girlfriend,” Merlyn said, letting her full lips pout at him. “Well, I want you to know that my heart is broken, just broken. And I did love you at first sight…uh, what was your name again?”

He started to speak, then sliced the air with that big hand, turned on his heel and stomped off down the hall with steps heavy enough to rattle the glass in the windows.

Lila collapsed in muffled laughter. Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, Merlyn, you’re so good for me. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

“I don’t imagine many people have,” Merlyn mused, glancing down the deserted hall. “My goodness, he frightened me to death when he came storming in. I remembered that you had a son, but you hadn’t mentioned that he’d be coming tonight.”

“I’d forgotten, in the excitement of your arrival,” Lila replied with a smile. “He did drop a hint that he might invite Delle and her mother up for the weekend while they were visiting relatives in Atlanta. It’s not far, you know.” She looked momentarily worried. “Charlotte Radner—here.” She sighed heavily. “I can hardly believe she’d actually brave the great outdoors long enough to blemish her white skin.”

“Which one is the girlfriend?” Merlyn asked hesitantly.

“Delle,” came the hard reply. “She’s mama’s little girl. Oh, my, the Radners—here. And I did so want to start work tomorrow.…No matter. We’d better get some sleep, dear. Maybe we can work around them.”

“I’ve been doing some preliminary research tonight,” Merlyn said as they walked down the hall together. “I think I’ve found you a feisty period in the founding of the Tudor line. Would that suit?”

Lila’s eyes brightened. “Perfect! I can save the Plantagenets for another book. By all means, let’s start there. In the morning we can start laying out the plot. This is going to be great fun,” she said with a smile.

“I hope so,” Merlyn said dryly, glancing down the hall where Cameron Thorpe had disappeared.

“Don’t worry, you and I will be a match for him,” Lila promised. “I just wish that once or twice he’d come alone and spend some time with Amanda. He’s only here on the weekends, and she’s been with me most of her life. Cameron divorced her mother years ago, and he got custody, but he lives in Charleston and he really doesn’t have anyone else to leave her with.…Her mother’s dead now, as you know.”

“Why can’t Delle keep her?” Merlyn asked matter-of-factly.

Lila looked horrified. “Delle? Look after a child?”

“Sorry,” Merlyn murmured. She was beginning to get an interesting picture of Cameron’s so-called friends.

“I’m sorry that Cameron upset you,” Lila said, letting the subject of Delle drop, as though it bothered her.

“In all fairness to him,” Merlyn replied, “he couldn’t have expected to find me wandering the halls. I was going to make myself a cup of hot chocolate, but after all this excitement, I’m so exhausted I think I’ll be able to sleep without it.”

“You’ll love it here when the rains stop,” Lila promised. “I’ve lived on the lake for four years now, and I can’t imagine living anywhere else. It’s so peaceful. And when the weather begins to get warm, as it will be soon, there will be sailboats dotting the lake.”

“I’ve seen the lake from the road many times,” Merlyn murmured, not wanting to mention her friend Dick’s enormous house, which was right on the lake. “It provides drinking water for Atlanta and the metro area, as well as being a marvelous recreational facility. Isn’t that right?”

Lila smiled. “My, you seem quite familiar with the area already. Sleep well, my dear.”

“You, too.”

Merlyn shot one last glance down the hall before she went into her room and quickly closed the door. Talk about flies in the ointment! Cameron Thorpe was going to be trouble, and she had a feeling that his lady friends were going to foul things up, too. All her confidence in being able to maintain her new identity was draining away. She’d have to be on her guard every minute, or she’d blow her cover. It looked as if this job wasn’t going to be the plum she’d first expected it to be.

Well, she thought with a sigh, as she climbed into bed and pulled up the covers, perhaps things will improve tomorrow.

***

They didn’t. The next morning, which dawned clear and warm, Cameron Thorpe was sitting at the breakfast table on the patio with his mother when Merlyn walked in. The look he gave her would have stopped traffic.

His dark eyes—they were almost black at close range, deep-set under a jutting brow—ran up and down Merlyn’s slender figure. She was dressed in faded blue jeans and a flaming orange pullover T-shirt that read “Kiss me, I’m a frog!” Her long black hair fell over her shoulders, and her eyes were a pale, sparkling green. She wasn’t beautiful like her late mother, but she had delicate features and a perfect figure, and normally she dressed with a flair that set her apart. Today, however, she’d deliberately worn her most outlandish T-shirt, hoping to get a rise out of Mr. Conservative. And she did. Immediately.

“Do you normally dress like that?” Cameron asked.

“Why, yes, when I’m not going naked,” she replied with a careless smile. She stared at him. He was wearing a dark business suit with a dark tie and a white shirt. She’d have bet that he had a closet full of them, all alike.

“More eggs, Cameron?” Lila asked quickly as Merlyn sat down and helped herself to toast and coffee.

“No, thanks,” he said, and his eyes never left Merlyn. His face was broad and hard, his nose was formidable, and he had a jaw as square as the way he dressed.

“Sizing me up?” Merlyn asked “I wear size ten slacks and a medium T-shirt. And there’s nothing underneath,” she whispered, leaning forward.

He came as close to a flush as she’d ever seen a man come, and his black eyes glittered at her. “I don’t find your attitude amusing,” he said curtly. “And I won’t have my daughter subjected to remarks like that.”

“Amanda isn’t downstairs yet,” Merlyn told him, “and you’re hardly a child.” She studied him. “Mrs. Thorpe said you were a banker.”

“Yes,” he said, sounding as if he found speaking to her distasteful.

“How exciting,” she murmured, stifling a yawn.

“Where did you take your degree?” he asked out of the blue.

“The University of Georgia.”

“Did you specialize?” he persisted, as he sipped his coffee.

“Not really,” she returned. “I enjoy ancient history as well as other periods.”

“What qualifies you to be a research assistant?” he chided. “Do you have references?”

“Are you the reincarnation of the Spanish Inquisition?” she shot back. “Really, Mr. Thorpe, my qualifications satisfied your mother.”

“They certainly did,” Lila seconded. She frowned. “Cameron, I’ve never known you to be so rude to a guest!”

“We’ve never had a guest like this,” he said, glancing up and down Merlyn’s figure.

“How sad for you.” Merlyn smiled. “But, at long last, here I am!”

“I’ve got to make a phone call,” he muttered, glaring at Merlyn as he got to his feet. “Five more minutes of Jane Eyre there, and I’ll be searching for a blunt instrument.”

“How kinky,” Merlyn said, grinning. “Usually men are wildly excited when they get to that point. Are you by any chance trying to seduce me over the scrambled eggs?”

His mother had already turned away with a napkin over her mouth.

“If I were eighty with terminal acne, I wouldn’t be so desperate,” he replied.

“You’ll be heartbroken when you realize what you’re passing up,” Merlyn called after him.

The hall door slammed behind him, and Lila made strangled sounds in her napkin.

“Poor Cameron,” Lila said finally. “He’s so domineering with women.”

“Not this one,” Merlyn informed her smugly. “I’m a free spirit. Basically, I hate men.”

“Is there a reason?”

Merlyn smiled. “Yes. A fiancé who turned out to be Dracula. I broke the engagement, and now I’m trying to get myself back together.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” Merlyn said. “I was ready to settle down. I’m twenty-six, after all. I wouldn’t mind a husband and children. But it’s going to take some time to forget what happened.”

“You’re still young, my dear,” Lila said with a smile.

“So I am,” Merlyn agreed. Then she changed the subject. “Where are we going to work? Inside?” she asked, casting a wary eye toward the house.

“That wouldn’t be intelligent, would it?” Lila laughed. “I can see you now, hurling things at Cameron!”

“Only a few sticks of furniture,” Merlyn protested. She sighed. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Thorpe, I’ll get used to him. After all, I got used to asparagus and squash casserole.”

Lila laughed merrily. “Call me Lila, not Mrs. Thorpe. And, yes, I think you’ll get used to my son, and he to you, in time. It will do him good to learn that not every woman thinks he’s the final authority.” She got to her feet. “Since it’s so warm, we’ll hash out some preliminaries here on the patio,” she added. “I’ll get my legal pad, and you can fetch those history books I watched you lug up the staircase yesterday.”

“I’ll get them right now,” Merlyn said.

Minutes later she came back downstairs with an armload of books, fortunately without running into the lord of the manor.

“Amanda’s late this morning,” Merlyn remarked as she seated herself at the little white table.

“Yes, but not unusually so,” Lila said with a smile. She sat down across from Merlyn. “With school out for spring holidays, she doesn’t get up until eleven.” She sighed, and the smile faded. “Poor child, she’s so lonely. Cameron has very little time.…”

“He could make time, if he wanted to,” Merlyn said quietly. “My own childhood was lonely. My mother died when I was about Amanda’s age, and my father missed her terribly. Instead of turning to me, he turned to his work. It wasn’t until I was well into my teens that he suddenly discovered he was a parent. We’ve grown closer, but there was quite a gulf between us during those first few years without Mama.”

“I’m afraid that Cameron’s work is his whole life,” Lila said. She stared at her slender, elegant hand on the table. “His late wife was not the kind of person he needed. Marcia was wildly exciting, I suppose, but not at all domestic. She hated children. If Cameron hadn’t threatened to toss her to the press, she’d have had an abortion. She left him just after Amanda was born. She was killed several years later in an automobile accident. A tragic affair, all around.”

“Did Amanda know her at all?” Merlyn asked.

“No. Marcia considered Amanda a liability, not an asset. She’s not the most beautiful child in the world, despite her sweet nature and kind heart. Although I doubt Marcia would have wanted her anyway. She just didn’t have any maternal instinct at all.”

“How sad,” Merlyn said quietly. “And it’s even sadder that her father gives her so little of himself. He’ll regret that one day.”

“He probably will. But he doesn’t listen to advice, my dear.”

“I noticed,” Merlyn replied dryly.

“Keep right on ruffling him, Merlyn,” the older woman said. “Maybe it will help.”

“Oh, that doesn’t take much effort—ruffling him,” she assured her colleague. “I have a feeling my very existence is enough to do the trick.”

***

They were hard at work, discussing possibilities for fictional characters during the reign of Henry VII, the founder of the Tudor line, when Amanda came downstairs. Lila was right, Merlyn thought. The little girl favored her father, and she was nobody’s idea of beautiful. God bless her, she was gangly and thin and nervous, and those huge eyes swallowed her face. Probably when she grew up, she’d surprise everybody by being a beauty, though. Often it was the ugly ducklings who made the most beautiful swans—simply by taking advantage of what they had and making the most of it.

“Good morning,” Merlyn said brightly, and smiled.

Amanda smiled, too. It was hard not to, when their visitor had such a contagiously sunny disposition.

“Good morning, Miss Merlyn,” she said. “Good morning, Grandmama.”

“Have you had breakfast?” Lila asked the child.

“No, ma’am,” Amanda murmured. She sat down on the glider, her hands folded on her skirt, her long hair in neat pigtails, her blouse spotless.

“Why not?” Lila prodded.

“I didn’t like to ask Mrs. Simms to fix it just for me,” Amanda said shyly.

“Nonsense,” Lila said. “Tilly doesn’t mind. And, Amanda, it isn’t as if we don’t pay her. Now go and ask for what you want.”

“But I’m not hungry,” the child insisted.

Lila sighed heavily. “Oh, Amanda, you’re just skin and bones.”

“She certainly is,” Cameron boomed, joining them. His dark, unsmiling eyes studied his daughter’s thinness. “Get in the house and eat,” he said curtly.

“Yes, Father,” Amanda said in a subdued tone. She got up without raising her eyes and went back into the house.

“My, what a way you have with children, Mr. Thorpe,” Merlyn said sweetly. “All the diplomacy of a rocket launcher, in fact!”

“Shut up,” he told her coldly, his dark eyes daring her to make another statement.

She got to her feet “Look here,” she said, “you may order Amanda around, but I’m a big girl. I’m here to work, not to…”

“Then why don’t you work, Miss Forrest, and leave my daughter’s upbringing to me?” he asked coolly.

“Mr. Thorpe…!” she persisted.

“Your duties include research, I believe, Miss Forrest, not child psychology?” Cameron went on, not giving his mother a chance to interfere.

Merlyn’s green eyes glittered at him. “My father used to be just like you,” she said angrily. “All work, all ice. I grew up on the mercy of neighbors. I wonder how you’re going to feel when Amanda is old enough to leave home, and if she’ll say the same things to you that I said to my father?”

He gave her one last glare before he turned and went back into the house, slamming the door behind him.

“Oh, my,” Lila murmured.

“Sorry,” Merlyn grumbled as she sat back down. “He makes me so mad! I did have a lot of terrible things to say to my father at one time. We’re good friends now, but we weren’t always. He and your son would get along just fine.”

“Yes, well, I’m sorry about all this,” Lila said. “He isn’t the most relaxing person to work around, even if he is my son.”

“I had no right to say those things to him,” Merlyn said after a minute, cooler now. “I’ll apologize, if you like.”

“And make him even more smug than he already is?” Lila exclaimed. “You will not!”

Merlyn laughed. “All right, then.”

Amanda came back minutes later, looking puzzled yet happy. “Daddy sat with me while I had breakfast,” she said. “He hasn’t done that in a long time. He even talked to me.”

Merlyn and Lila exchanged shocked, faintly amused glances before they got back to work.

Chapter Three

Lila scribbled on a yellow legal pad and Amanda played quietly with a doll, while Merlyn dug into several volumes of information on the Tudors. But her mind was wandering, tugged away unwillingly by the conversation she’d had with Cameron earlier.

My, my, wouldn’t Cameron Thorpe’s eyes bulge if he could see her as she really was? She pursed her lips and fantasized about coming down the staircase of her father’s town house in her white Bill Blass original with her blue fox boa draped lovingly over her bare shoulders, her hair in a high coiffure with a diamond tiara, and her mother’s diamond necklace and earrings gracing her milky complexion.…

She shook herself. Why destroy his illusions? Let him think what he liked.

“You said the history of the English Kings had always fascinated you. Why?” Lila asked, interrupting Merlyn’s mental wanderings.

She almost told the older woman the truth—that her own family history could be traced back to the time of the Plantagenets and Tudors. But that would be giving away far too much.

“Actually, I had a cousin who was British,” she said. Well, it was the truth.

“One you had a crush on?” Lila pursued.

Merlyn pursed her lips and smiled, thinking about that cousin—Richard the Lion-Hearted—and the dashing picture he made in fact and fiction. “You might say that,” she agreed.

“You must tell me all about him one day.” Lila sighed as she studied her notes. “This is going to be quite a feat when I really get started. I’ve only just roughed out the main characters. Merlyn, I’m fascinated by Uncle Jasper.”

“The one who was responsible for Henry VII’s accession to the throne?” Merlyn laughed delightedly. “I’m finding great material on him. During the War of the Roses, he took his brother’s widow, Margaret Beaumont, to his own castle at Pembroke and provided for her while she gave birth to his nephew Henry, who was to become Henry VII—father of Henry VIII. Jasper lost his fortune in the War of the Roses, conducted something of a commando campaign against the Yorks and eventually rescued Henry Tudor from them. Henry, you see, was the last surviving male of the Lancastrian line. Their great enemies were the Yorks. Those were the two factions that fought the War of the Roses.

“But to get back to Jasper, he and Henry spent quite a while imprisoned in Brittany until the death of Edward IV, whose sons were captured by Richard III—remember him? Anyway, a faction arose to support Henry’s bid for the throne, with the help of some political maneuvering by his mother, Margaret Beaumont. Uncle Jasper helped to raise an army, which marched finally into battle against Richard III. Richard was killed after a valiant defense, and Henry married Edward IV’s eldest daughter, Elizabeth of York, uniting the Lancasters and Yorks and ending the War of the Roses.”

Lila caught her breath. “You do have it down pat, don’t you?”

“Not nearly as well as I’d like to,” Merlyn confessed. “There are a lot of questions about Jasper that I haven’t found answers to yet. But he seems to have lived to a ripe old age and regained his fortunes.”

Lila pursed her lips and frowned. She tapped her pencil on the legal pad. “What a fascinating man. Do you suppose…” Her eyes cut sideways.

“Why not?” Merlyn grinned. “A fictional character patterned after him would be a natural. And the period is fascinating, as you’ll see when we get further into it. I’m getting so caught up in it that I actually feel as if I can experience it in my mind.”

“You should try writing,” Lila told her. “I feel the same way about my fictional people and the periods they inhabit. This is the first time I’ve dabbled in this particular period of English history, but I’m delighted that we discovered each other.”

“So am I,” came the fervent reply. “I’m enjoying it more than I can tell you.”

“I’m very glad.”

“I’ve been a fan of yours for years,” Merlyn told the older woman. “I do so enjoy the love scenes,” she confessed sheepishly.

Lila laughed. “And I still do them blindfolded, because they embarrass me so!” she confessed.

“I’ll bet they don’t embarrass Miss Forrest,” came a deep, unpleasant voice from the walkway between the rose garden and the patio.

Merlyn looked up with arched eyebrows. “Is that wishful thinking?” she asked conversationally, “because you’d like to do one with me? Well, Mr. Rochester, you’re not bad-looking at all, but, honestly, I did come up here to work,” she told him with a sly smile.

His eyes got darker. He was wearing a green pullover knit designer shirt with tan slacks, and despite his size he looked trim and elegant. “Are you ever serious?”

“When I balance my bank statement. It’s enough to make me grim,” she lied.

“Did you want something, dear?” Lila asked before the conversation had a chance to deteriorate even more.

Reluctantly, he shifted his gaze to his mother. “Delle and Charlotte are on their way up. I thought you’d like to know before they walked in. They can only stay overnight. Delle has to fly to France in the morning to join her brother in Nice for a few days.”

“Lovely place, Nice,” Merlyn sighed. “Blue skies, white beaches…”

“How would you know?” Cameron scoffed.

Oops, she thought, smiling to conceal her lapse. “You don’t believe that I might spend holidays there?” she asked innocently.

“I do not,” he said bluntly, and his stare told her that he didn’t think she could afford a bus ticket to Atlanta, much less a plane ticket to France.

She shrugged. “Well, then, I won’t bore you with tales of summers in my father’s villa there.”

He ignored her. “I’ve asked Tilly to go to extra pains for dinner this evening,” he continued. “And we’ll dress. Charlotte and Delle are used to proper attire at dinner.” He gave Merlyn a hard look. “They’re from Charleston. Old money.”

Merlyn let her jaw drop to show that she was suitably impressed.

“I would appreciate it, Miss Forrest,” he added, “if you could manage to control your rather unusual sense of humor during the visit. The Radners are rather special to me.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, sir, I know my place,” Merlyn assured him.

He looked as if he’d never smiled. Poor man, she thought, probably he never had. She wondered what he was like in bed. He probably was less adventurous than Merlyn, and Merlyn was a virgin. She grinned at the thought of Cameron without clothes.

“When I said dress,” he added, “I meant formal dress.”

“I have this neat sweat shirt with lace on it.…” Merlyn began.

“But, Cameron,” Lila was protesting, “Merlyn shouldn’t be expected to…”

“Oh, really, I have plans for the evening,” Merlyn assured them, with a smile for her dark adversary. “In any case, since I came without my Bill Blass originals, it’s probably for the best. Don’t worry, I won’t be around to embarrass you in front of the Radners. I like staying out late at night. Until the wee hours.”

“Not here,” he told her. “You’ll be in by midnight, Miss Forrest. House rules. I don’t intend having my routine interrupted by you.”

She glared up at him hotly. “I will stay out as late as I like, Mr. Thorpe,” she returned. “These are not Victorian times, and you are most certainly not my master. As for dressing up for dinner…”

“Merlyn, you are most welcome to sit down to my table naked, if you like,” Lila interrupted.

“What a marvelous thought!” Merlyn laughed, rising to the occasion. She grinned at Cameron, who was getting madder by the minute. “You’re turning purple,” she added.

He drew in a slow breath, and his black eyes made threats. “Keep pushing,” he said quietly, “and see what happens.”

Her eyes widened. “I can hardly wait!”

With a harsh sigh, he turned on his heel and stalked off.

Lila grinned. “What a repressed boy I raised,” she murmured. “I had such plans for Cam, but his father stole him away from me in his formative years. Being dragged around the world and ridiculed at every turn has left its mark on him, I’m afraid.” She stared after him wistfully. “His father hurt him, belittled him. He wanted Cam to be strong and shrewd—well, he’s that. But my husband managed to take almost all the tenderness out of him. And what he left behind, Marcia destroyed with her cruelty.” She shook her head. “Cam’s had a hard life. But if he marries Delle, it can only get worse.”

“Is she that bad?” Merlyn asked, momentarily sympathetic.

“Oh, my dear,” Lila sighed, shaking her head mournfully. “I had such high hopes that he’d settle down one day—he’s nearing forty, you know. But I had hoped for a daughter-in-law who would be…” She glanced warily at Amanda, who was lost in her doll and its expensive accessories. “…different from Delle.”

“Different, how?” Merlyn asked, fascinated.

“You’ll see, I’m afraid,” came the weary reply.

***

The remark turned out to be prophetic. Merlyn had already decided that the best thing for her to do would be to go into Gainesville for the rest of the day while the Radners were in residence. She’d had enough of Cameron Thorpe’s disapproving glare for one day, and Lila had already told her it would be impossible to get any more work done with the guests around. The older woman had sighed wistfully when Merlyn made her decision known, and muttered that she’d like to go, too.

Merlyn walked out into the hall in her tasseled Mexican poncho with a green long-sleeved cotton blouse and white slacks, and stopped dead when she got her first look at Delle Radner.

Thin and dainty, with Shirley Temple blonde hair and over-mascaraed blue eyes, Cameron’s girlfriend was dressed as if she’d just been to a cocktail party or was headed for one. Her dress was a black street-length silk Charmeuse, obviously a designer model, with lavish floral lace inserts at the neckline and cuffs. Against her delicate fairness, it was devastating, and she had to know it. Her accessories were equally flawless, black snakeskin sling-back pumps and a matching purse. She was speaking to Cameron in low, girlish tones, and her full red lips were pouting up at him. Cameron, in a black dinner jacket, was looking irritated. And devastating. He would have graced the most chic establishment. Even Merlyn couldn’t help feeling a ripple of pleasure at the picture he made.

She jerked herself back to reality. This man was trouble, and she wanted no part of him. Besides, she wasn’t here to cozy up to Cameron the Cold. She was little more than an employee. The thought made her giggle, and she hid her mouth behind her elegantly kept hand.

The giggle drew unwanted attention. She felt two hostile pairs of eyes on her and made the most of her inbred composure. “Well, hi there,” she said breathily, entering the living room with a toss of her long, exquisite hair. “You must be Delle,” she told the blonde. “I’ve just heard so much about you!” She held out her hand, and Delle took it with a patronizing smile as her blue eyes assessed Merlyn’s apparel.

“You are…?” Delle asked politely.

“Merlyn Forrest,” Cameron supplied coldly. “She’s helping my mother with a new book.”

“Oh, are you a writer?” Delle’s eyebrows went up.

“No. I have a degree in history,” Merlyn replied.

Delle blinked. “I thought only men got those,” she said with a tittering little laugh.

“Oddly enough, women do, too,” Merlyn replied. She glanced at Cameron with a twitch of her lips. “Although some of them leave the halls of academia to work for striking dark men.…”

“Were you going somewhere, Miss Forrest?” Cameron asked with venom in every word.

“Why, yes,” she told him. “Into Gainesville to pick up men.”

Lila walked in on that last mischievous statement and chuckled. “May I go, too?” she asked.

“Mother!” Cameron growled, scowling down at her.

“And who is this?” asked an icily polite voice from behind Lila.

“Merlyn Forrest, my research assistant,” Lila obliged. “Merlyn, you’ve met Delle, of course, and this is Charlotte Radner. Delle’s mother.”

“Research assistant?” Charlotte laughed softly, but her eyes were as icy blue as a winter storm. She was dressed elegantly herself, in a floor-length blue dress that clung to her willowy figure. Her hair must once have been blonde, but now it was white with one of those blue rinses on it.

“Merlyn is helping me research the Plantagenet and Tudor periods for a book I’m working on,” Lila offered. “Although we’ve almost definitely settled on the Tudors. The background is so interesting.…”

“I’m sure it is, dear,” Charlotte said, sounding bored, “but a great many people have no taste for history, you know.”

“It’s so dull,” Delle added, clinging to Cameron’s sleeve. “I’d rather talk about polo. Cam, are you coming down for the match next week?”

He shook his head. “I’ve got too much to do. There’s a board meeting on a new budget.”

“You never stop working,” Delle complained. “Work, work, work. Why don’t you come out from behind that desk and into the world? You used to play polo, I remember watching you.”

“You’d have been in pigtails back then, I imagine?” Merlyn asked with a smile, noting with wicked pleasure the anger on Charlotte Radner’s patrician features.

“Delle is quite mature for her age,” Charlotte said coolly, curtly motioning her daughter to silence when she started to reply. “And has exquisite taste in clothes.”

Merlyn spread her poncho. “And my lack of it shows?” she challenged.

Charlotte’s manner wouldn’t let her enter into an insult match. “My dear, I meant no offense,” she said formally.

“Of course not. You wouldn’t be so ill-mannered as to point out the obvious difference between your daughter’s clothing budget and my own,” Merlyn said.

Mrs. Radner gave her a hard glare, and Cameron’s dark eyes began to glitter.

“Weren’t you just leaving, Miss Forrest?” he asked, emphasizing every cold word.

“Why, yes, I was,” Merlyn agreed with a grin. She tossed her dark hair like a young filly about to bolt, and her green eyes glanced off his flirtatiously. “See you.”

He was openly glaring now, and Delle was giving him funny looks. She moved closer, holding on to his arm as if he might be keeping the house from sinking.

“Have a good time, Merlyn,” Lila called after her.

“I’ll try to be in by two or three at the latest,” Merlyn replied mischievously, with a glance toward Cameron, who’d already told her to be in by midnight. He started to say something, but before he could, Merlyn was out the door with a cheery, “Good night!”

It was a relief to breathe fresh air again. Delle was just a child, obviously infatuated with Cameron. But her mother was something else, and she held the reins on her daughter. It looked to Merlyn as if Cameron was slowly digging his own grave.

But she didn’t feel the least bit sorry for him. He was cold and domineering and obviously deserved every damned thing he would get. She didn’t like him. He was all the things she resented in a man. Just the thought of him made her bristle.

She walked around Lakeshore Mall for a couple of hours, haunted the B. Dalton store there, sighed over the latest computers at Radio Shack, and had supper in a charming little restaurant with hanging foliage and an uptown menu. Then she drove to the Holiday Inn, checked in, and spent the night watching movies on cable TV.

***

It was nine o’clock the next morning when she drove her little red Volkswagen into Lila’s driveway and parked it beside Cameron’s elegant black Lincoln. She glared at the larger vehicle. Black. It figured. He didn’t have the personality for flashy red sports cars.

She dragged herself out of the car, still wearing the clothes she’d worn the day before (she’d slept in her underwear) and went into the house.

Lila glanced up as she entered the dining room, smiling with something like relief. “Good morning, dear, have you eaten?”

“Not yet,” Merlyn replied, with a general smile for the rest of the people at the table. Apparently Amanda was sleeping late again, but Cameron’s guests were there, as elegant in pantsuits as they had been in dresses the night before. They looked as disapproving as Cameron did.

“What a lovely time I had,” Merlyn sighed. She sat down beside Lila and smiled at Tilly, who poured her a cup of black coffee and pushed the platter with the buttered toast within her reach. “I hope you didn’t worry?” she asked Lila.

“No, dear,” Lila said with an amused smile—because she already knew that Merlyn didn’t trust men and that she hadn’t really spent the night picking them up.

“I was just having too much fun to come back,” Merlyn sighed, munching on toast and washing it down with coffee.

“In my time,” Mrs. Radner said coldly, “decent young women didn’t carouse all night. Even at the age of twenty, Delle is not allowed to be out past midnight.”

“You’re only twenty?” Merlyn exclaimed, staring at Delle. “And you’re…forty-five, isn’t it?” she asked Cameron with pretended innocence.

“I’m thirty-nine,” he said coldly.

“Nineteen years.” Merlyn shook her head, glancing at Delle. “You poor child.”

Cameron slammed down his napkin. “Miss Forrest…!” he began furiously.

“Do call me Jane, all my friends do,” she told him and pursed her lips in a playful kiss.

His cheeks had a dull layer of red over them, and she was glad she wasn’t alone with him.

“Cameron isn’t old,” Delle defended him, touching his hand lovingly. “He’s in his prime. And so masterful!”

Merlyn sputtered into her coffee and almost choked. Cameron glared at her openly, clenching his fists on the table until the knuckles went white.

“My, you’re in a good mood this morning, Merlyn,” Lila said. “I must go with you on your next night out.”

“Lila!” Mrs. Radner said curtly. “You shouldn’t encourage this kind of thing. God knows, there’s enough immorality in the world.”

“Spending the night alone in a Holiday Inn is immoral?” Merlyn asked, recovering from her lapse. Her dark eyebrows lifted as she stared at Mrs. Radner. “How?”

The older woman looked stunned. She faltered, searching for words. “I assumed…”

“Miss Forrest,” Cameron began again, and his black eyes glared holes in her, “you were asked to be in by midnight.”

“No, I wasn’t, Mr. Thorpe. I was ordered to be in by midnight,” she retorted. “I don’t respond well to orders, even when they’re given by exciting dark men.”

“Cameron,” Delle interrupted, “don’t you think…”

“Keep out of this, Delle,” Cameron replied curtly, as if a mere woman’s comments weren’t worth listening to.

Delle meekly inclined her head toward her plate, and Merlyn glowered at Delle. “Are you going to let him talk to you that way?” she burst out. “My goodness, you don’t have to sit there and take orders like a family pet!”

Delle looked shocked, but her expression was nothing compared to Cameron’s. He threw down his napkin as if it were a gauntlet.

“That’s enough,” he told Merlyn, and his voice was like deep, icy water. “That’s more than enough.”

“You said it, honey,” Merlyn replied with a contemptuous laugh as she got to her feet, oblivious to Charlotte’s glare and Lila’s smothered grin. “I’d choke having to eat beside a male chauvinist like you. If you’ll all excuse me, I’m going to freshen up.”

She got up with a general nod in the direction of the guests and went upstairs.

“Male supremacist, sitting there like the first Caesar,” she muttered, stripping off her clothes and coiling her long hair up under a borrowed shower cap as she went toward the bathroom. “And that simpering child sitting there, lapping it up!” she hissed. She turned on the water and stepped under it, quickly soaping herself and as quickly washing off the lather. She grabbed a towel and dried herself, ripped off the shower cap and shook her hair dry. Cameron had made her furious enough, but that Charlotte Radner had really set her temper on fire. Snob! How dare that woman make such assumptions about her? Of course, she had to admit that she’d deliberately begun to give the wrong impression. But she was probably worth twice as much as the Radners, and she hated being put down. If this was how poor people lived, it wasn’t very pleasant. It made her think. Which was probably what her father had intended from the beginning, she thought angrily. And again she wondered if he had more than a nodding acquaintance with Cameron Thorpe. He couldn’t have picked a better adversary for her if he’d spent his life searching. Then she realized she was on the wrong track. Her father would have been in search of a soul mate for her, not an adversary.

She walked back into her bedroom, sleek and elegant in her nudity, her high breasts in perfect proportion to a body that was sensuous and graceful and unconscious of its own power. And as she walked into the bedroom, Cameron Thorpe walked in the door.

Her eyes widened. So did his. They went over her like dark fingers, tracing every soft curve, every long line, with an intensity that froze her into position like a nymph caught bathing.

“Damn you!” she whispered as sanity returned. She dived for the silky blue coverlet, and jerked it around her. Her face went blood red. No man had ever seen her without her clothes, not even that jackass she’d been engaged to. There had been very little more than kissing between them, in fact, which was one thing that had led to her suspicion that her money was the attraction for Adam, not her body. Or her heart.

“How interesting,” Cameron murmured, watching her reaction as she shrank against the post of the canopy over her wide bed. He closed the door behind him with a hard thud and went toward her.

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