CHAPTER FOUR

KITTY’S fingers inflicted cruel punishment as she slammed the dough down yet again on the flour-covered marble board which lay on Darius’s pristine work-surface.

What an utterly stupid, stupid thing to do, she told herself, her hands moving in time with her thoughts as she viciously kneaded the bread she was making. Darius had wanted sandwiches—well, she would give him sandwiches to die for!

She closed her eyes briefly. What had she been thinking of, sneaking around the house like a second-rate sleuth in an amateur-dramatic society’s annual production?

And not just that, she reminded herself as the heel of her hand came down hard on the elastic mixture. Because then ... Her cheeks flared with remembered chagrin. Then she had displayed the kind of fawning behaviour which was on a par with the woman in the black dress in the restaurant— the one with the ridiculous name—whose behaviour at the time she had so despised. Going gaga just because he’d touched her—even though he was thoroughly disreputable. No, far worse than that, she hadn’t just gone ga-ga, she’d gone completely overboard. And if he hadn’t stopped kissing her, she probably would have been tugging at the belt of that too-short robe to get her hands on even more of that smooth brown flesh. What must he have thought? Or was his spell over women so mesmeric that any woman taken into the arms of Darius Speed was doomed to behave so pathetically?

Kitty pounded the dough. What had happened back there? She’d seen stars, heard violins, swooned in his arms—all the things which were supposed to happen when you fell ...

She shook her head and actually laughed aloud. Now she really was letting her imagination run away with her. All that had happened was that the king of seducers had given her a taste of his considerable expertise at kissing. Imagine all the women he must have kissed over the years. Small wonder that a brief demonstration should act as such a powerful aphrodisiac. Although it was a little shaming to have been such a walk-over— why, she’d gone out with Hugo for nearly six months and her reactions towards him couldn’t have been more different ...

She took a deep breath as she covered the dough with a damp tea-towel and put it to one side to rise, looking up as she heard the kitchen door open, her hackles rising protectively as she steeled herself for Darius.

But it was Simon who smilingly appeared, his shiny brown hair gleaming, dressed in the habitual Australian male summer uniform of knee-length shorts worn instead of trousers, teamed with accompanying long socks. He had a pleasant face with regular features and none of the brooding watchfulness of his employer. In the normal course of events Simon was, Kitty decided, the kind of man who would never have a problem with women— but she suspected that he would always play second fiddle to the colder, harder but infinitely more attractive Darius.

‘Hi!’ His eyes lit up. ‘How’s it going?’

‘Great, thanks,’ said Kitty, relaxing instantly, thinking what a pleasant and genuine smile he had.

There was something almost of the big brother about Simon—not that she had any brothers to compare him with, of course, but he made her feel somehow safe—the very opposite to how her boss made her feel.

Was she at ease with Simon simply because they’d shared a meal that evening? Because they were both in the subordinate roles of employees? Or was it because he seemed so uncomplicated and easygoing when compared with Darius?

Or maybe, she thought ruefully, it was just that she needed an ally in a house where she was planning to break the law ...

‘What’s cooking?’ asked Simon as he reached for a wooden spoon which stood in a bowl full of chocolate sauce.

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