Follow a Stranger

had a cruel tightness below the mocking eyes. Then he

slowly lowered his mouth until it touched hers. She gasped,

trying to shrink away, and he pulled her nearer. His lips

whimpered, against hers, “You want this as much as I do—

do you think I don’t know that? You can’t hide from me for

ever, Kate. I want you ...”

Then his mouth was moving, hotly, urgently against

hers, and she felt her body melting in passionate response.

Through the rising passion and clamour of her pulses she

dimly tried to reason with herself. He had not said he loved

her. But her own desire was breaking loose from the bonds

she had placed on it, and she knew she would not be able to

resist much longer. She loved him too much.

The sudden interruption was like a douche of cold water

on inflamed nerves. From behind them came a peal of

silvery laughter, and Marc’s arms dropped from Kate, his

head jerking upwards, a blind look on his face.

Marie-Louise stood there, head to one side, an artificial

smile of false amusement painted on her red mouth.

“Cheri, I am so sorry to spoil your fun, but there is an

urgent call for you from New York. They said it could not

wait.”

He muttered furiously beneath his breath, looked at

Kate, hesitated, then walked quickly into the house.

Marie-Louise smiled at Kate, her eyes hard and

glittering. “Marc is an exciting lover, n’est-ce pas? I hope

you enjoyed your little interlude him.” She held up a hand,

as Kate stirred in restless anger, “Mais non, I am not

jealous, ma petite. There have been so many pretty little

girls! Marc likes his girls blonde, sometimes, for a change,