The last, Brice was sure, was added for his benefit. Completely unnecessarily. The fact that Sabina was here at all was unexpected; he certainly didn’t delude himself into thinking she had dressed like this just to come and see him!
‘What do you want?’ he demanded as soon as the door had closed behind the departing Mrs Potter.
Sabina eyed him coolly. ‘You really are the rudest man I’ve ever met,’ she told him calmly.
He raised dark brows mockingly. ‘At least I’m consistent.’
‘True,’ she drawled dismissively. ‘I called in—’
‘You said that,’ he rasped.
‘Because I know Richard intends ringing you tomorrow about commissioning the portrait,’ she continued firmly. ‘I want you to tell him that you can’t do it,’ she added hardly.
Brice eyed her with mocking amusement. ‘And why should I do that?’
Sabina’s gaze remained unblinkingly steady on his. ‘I’m sure I don’t have to explain why.’
No, she didn’t have to—but there was no way, after the three days of torment he had just gone through, that he could let her off the hook so easily. Besides, the mask of polite indifference that she was showing him tonight irritated him immensely!
‘You’re referring to the fact that we kissed each other the other evening?’ he challenged.
An angry flush darkened her cheeks. ‘Besides being rude, Brice, you obviously have a selective memory,’ she snapped. ‘You kissed me—’
‘Only initially,’ he drawled in a bored voice. ‘I seem to remember that you kissed me back.’ He raised challenging brows.
Sabina drew in an angry breath. ‘You-are-not-a-gentleman!’ she bit out tautly.
Oh, yes, he was—because if he followed his ungentlemanly instincts right now, he would end up kissing her again; she was absolutely magnificent in her anger!
His mouth twisted derisively. ‘And I suppose Latham is?’
She stiffened, her eyes glittering coldly blue. ‘Exactly what do you mean by that remark?’
Brice shrugged. ‘I don’t suppose for a moment that Latham sleeps in one bedroom of that big house the two of you share, while you sleep virginally in another!’ he scorned.
If he had thought her coldly distant before, she now became the ice maiden, every desirable inch of her withdrawn behind an icy barrier Brice knew he could have no hope of penetrating.
‘I don’t believe that is any of your business, Mr McAllister,’ she spat the last out contemptuously. ‘I came here this evening hoping to appeal to your better nature—but you obviously don’t have one, so—’
‘Latham doesn’t know about the other evening, does he?’ Brice took a calculated guess, more or less sure he was right, but needing to know for certain.
She flushed. ‘Richard is aware that I saw you that evening—’
‘That isn’t what I meant—and you know it!’ he rasped.
‘Tell me, Brice, can you still walk?’ she taunted.
He looked down at his denim-clad legs as he stood across the room from her. ‘Obviously,’ he drawled.
‘Then I think you can take a calculated guess that I haven’t told Richard of your—overfamiliarity the other evening,’ she drawled mockingly.
Brice smiled without humour. ‘What you really mean is that your future husband is nothing but a thug!’
All the time knowing that if Sabina were his fiancée he would feel violent himself just at the thought of any other man kissing her, let alone actually knowing he had done so!
Sabina gave him a disgusted glance. ‘You—’
‘How’s your mother?’ Brice abruptly changed the subject, sensing Sabina was about to leave, and knowing a desperate need for her not to do so.
Having her come here at all was completely unexpected; after the other evening, Brice had been certain Sabina would ensure he never saw her alone again. The fact that she had come here like this was evidence of just how much she didn’t want Richard Latham to know that, not only had Brice taken her out to dinner the other evening, but that the two of them had ended the evening by kissing each other.
Evidence of how much she loved the other man…?
She looked nonplussed now by his change of topic. ‘I haven’t spoken to my mother since the day we had lunch together,’ Sabina answered warily.
‘Putting off the evil moment?’ Brice chided softly. ‘Is that being completely fair to your mother? After all, from the little you told me, I doubt you were very gracious that day about her proposed holiday plans.’
Her cheeks became flushed once again. ‘I really don’t think this is any of your business, Brice—’
‘Coward,’ he murmured softly.
Her eyes widened indignantly. ‘Not that it’s anything to do with you—but I have every intention of talking to my mother. In my own way. In my own time.’
He nodded grimly. ‘And, in the meantime, she can just sit there and stew in her own juice!’
Sabina frowned. ‘You know nothing about my mother—’
‘I know she cared enough to take the time and trouble to come to London to tell you about her proposed holiday to Paris, with a male friend,’ Brice rasped. ‘Even though she probably knew exactly how you were going to react,’ he added tauntingly.
Sabina was all eyes now, huge blue pools of pained disbelief. Because he was deliberately attacking her, challenging her. But he couldn’t help that; the cool Sabina, behind her wall of ice, was not acceptable to him.
Because from the moment she had arrived what he had most wanted to do was kiss her again!
Sabina swallowed hard, giving Brice a quizzical look. He looked different today, and it wasn’t just the several days’ growth of beard that darkened his jaw, or his rumpled hair and clothes. Those things could easily be explained in an artist of his calibre who became lost in whatever he was working on at the moment.
No, it was something else… She just didn’t know what it was!
‘And exactly how was that?’ she finally breathed huskily.
He shrugged. ‘It’s okay for you to live with a man old enough to be your father, but heaven help your mother if she tries to find a little happiness of her own in her twilight years,’ he rasped scathingly.
She shook her head, smiling without humour, unappreciative of any of his remark, but especially the part about Richard being old enough to be her father. ‘I doubt my mother considers she has reached that at only sixty-six!’ Her mother came from a long line of octogenarians.
‘Exactly,’ Brice pounced pointedly. ‘Hell, if it were me, I would say good luck to her!’
There were plenty of replies she could have made to such a remark; predominantly that, from the safety of his own parents’ obvious longevity of married life, he was hardly in a position to say how he would feel in the same circumstances.
But Sabina had finally realised exactly what Brice was doing—and she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of being successful. Because, like a small boy, he was trying to pick a fight…
She shook her head. ‘I didn’t come here to discuss my mother with you, Brice.’
His mouth twisted. ‘No—you came here to ask me to tell your fiancé—when he telephones!—that I can’t paint you.’
And she could tell, just from looking at his face, that he wasn’t going to do that!
‘I’ve obviously wasted my time,’ she acknowledged with a sigh before glancing at the slender gold watch on her wrist. ‘I really don’t have any more time to discuss this with you now, Brice—’
‘You mustn’t keep Richard waiting,’ he taunted hardly. ‘And I expect the attentive Clive is sitting outside in the car waiting for you too,’ he added scathingly.
‘Richard isn’t with me this evening,’ she dismissed impatiently. ‘I’m working.’
She was attending a charity dinner with several other models this evening; Richard away on business again until tomorrow. But Brice was quite right about Clive waiting outside for her in the car. As he would also be waiting to take her home again once the evening was over…
She picked up her evening bag. ‘I’m sorry we can’t come to some sort of amicable agreement concerning the portrait, Brice,’ she told him coolly. ‘I really was hoping we could keep this on a friendly level.’
His eyes narrowed to green slits. ‘Meaning?’
She shrugged slender shoulders. ‘I’m not sure yet,’ she answered slowly.
Brice watched her consideringly. ‘And I’m not sure I like the sound of that.’
Sabina gave a brief smile. ‘But I’m completely sure I don’t give a damn how you feel about it!’ she told him mildly before turning to leave.
‘There’s something I would like to know, Sabina.’ Brice spoke softly behind her.
Too close behind her, it seemed to Sabina, the warmth of his breath brushing against the bareness of her shoulders.
Reminding her all too vividly of those minutes spent in his arms three days ago.
Remind her? She hadn’t been able to put them out of her mind for a moment!
Oh, she had dated several men before meeting Richard almost a year ago. And they had been pleasant friendships. But none of those relationships had been in the least serious, certainly none of those men causing her pulse to race and her body to turn to liquid fire. And now that she was engaged to Richard—for whatever reason!—was not the time to find herself reacting in that way three days ago, with Brice McAllister, of all people!