The Price of a Wife

The thought was there in the front of her mind before she could push it away, stark and unwelcome and abrupt, and she realised it had been simmering in her subconscious since Germany. It was the word 'civilised' that had brought it to the surface again.

Because he would be deliriously uncivilised in the throes of passion, she thought helplessly. She knew it. She felt it in her bones. That cool, controlled exterior would melt into a hot sensuality that would take the woman in his arms to the heights… Stop it Josie. She shut her eyes tightly for a second in an attempt to block out her thoughts.

But there was something about him, a dark, brooding kind of masculinity, that chew her mind to the physical in spite of herself, and she found it all the more difficult to cope with because nothing of that kind had ever bothered her before. But with Luke Hawkton… She just couldn't ignore it, she conceded helplessly.

'I know you live in Chelsea, but a few directions would be useful.' The deep voice cut into her tortured thoughts, and when she glanced out of the window she realised she was nearly home, the Mercedes having eaten up the miles with consummate ease.

'Of course. Sony, I was daydreaming,' she said hastily.

'That does m

y ego the world of good, Josie, thank you,' he said with cool sarcasm. 'Now, the address is Chiltern Close, isn't it? And that's somewhere off Jade Road?'

'Yes. You turn right in a few minutes—I'll tell you when— and then the next street after the traffic lights is Jade Road,' she said as evenly as she could. 'Chiltern Close is the third on the left.'

The Mercedes nosed into Chiltern Close a few minutes later and came to a smooth stop under a large silver birch tree, a line of which bordered the quiet, pleasant road. Oh, help, they were here now, Josie thought desperately, and her mind struggled with the problem that had been occupying her thoughts for the last few moments. He had just flown back from Germany after what had probably been quite a gruelling business trip and he hadn't even touched base yet. She couldn't let him drive away without offering him a cup of coffee and a sandwich…could she?

No, she couldn't; of course she couldn't, she told herself quickly. It would be the height of rudeness, but— She took a deep breath before she spoke. Every instinct in her body was telling her to do just that.

'Would you like a coffee?' She was amazed at how light the words sounded when she felt anything but. 'Or perhaps you want to get straight home—'

'A coffee would be great.' That's your opinion, she thought darkly as she smiled brightly and climbed out of the car. 'Here, let me take those.'

He relieved her of her briefcase and portfolio in one easy movement and then followed her the one or two steps to the front door, glancing up at the large, three-storeyed house as he did so. 'How many flats are there?' he asked quietly as she opened the door into the wide hall, her fingers fumbling with the key and almost dropping it in her agitation.

'Four—one on each floor, including the basement,' she said as she shut the door behind him. 'Mr Jones, the caretaker, lives in the basement flat, and he sees to the other two houses either side as well. The same property company owns them all.'

'Which property company is that?' he asked as he followed her up the narrow stairs leading from the hall.

'Pears.' She was acutely conscious of the bulk of him just behind her, but when she reached the smartly painted door of her flat she steeled herself to open it smoothly this time, and as it swung open Mog was there in front of her, with a mournful and very reproachful long-drawn-out miaow.

'So this is the man in your life?' Luke asked softly as he deposited the briefcase and portfolio on a nearby chair and bent down to stroke the cat, who had totally ignored Josie and now arched ingratiatingly against his legs. 'Yes, I can see why he would be; he's very handsome.'

'You like cats?' Josie asked in surprise. Somehow she hadn't put him down as an animal-lover.

'That doesn't fit your mental picture of me?' Luke asked silkily, the smoothness of his voice at odds with the narrowing of the piercing silver eyes. 'Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Josie, but yes, I like cats—dogs too, as it happens.' He straightened, but Mog continued to wind round his legs as his chest rumbled with a loud purr. 'I have several cats at my home in the South of France, and also here in Greenwich, which are ably cased for by my resident housekeepers.'

'No dogs?' she asked carefully, ignoring the first part of the conversation.

'Not yet.' He continued to look at her, his hard face cool and remote and his voice soft. 'They'll wait until I settle down and enter the next stage of my life.'

'Which is?' she asked flatly.

'Family man and attentive husband,' he answered with a mocking smile. 'And I bet you can't imagine that either.'

'No, not really.' She turned away as she spoke, a shaft of pain stabbing at her throat. So he wanted to settle down soon and raise a family? Well, of course he would; she shouldn't have expected anything else. Even the most dyed-in-the-wool philanderer succumbed to the natural human desire to build a nest and raise fledglings eventually. The desire to procreate, to have sons and daughters, was strong in any man, but especially in one as virile and sensual as Luke; it was perfectly normal. Absolutely to be expected.

She walked through to the kitchen, her back rigid.

'Josie?' His voice caught at her, and there was a note in it she didn't understand but didn't date try to explore. 'What's wrong?'

'Wrong?'

She bent to the low cupboard that housed Mog's cat food and took a long, deep breath before reaching for a tin and turning to face him. He was standing in the kitchen doorway and she noticed suddenly that he looked tired, that there were dark shadows undo: his eyes which brought the prominent cheekbones forward and gave the grey eyes an even more silvery hue. And the feeling that it aroused in her was as unwelcome as it was unexpected. She didn't want to feel tenderly towards him; she didn't dare.

'Nothing's wrong,' she said carefully. 'What ever gave you that idea? It's just that Mog has ignored me since I walked through the door and that tells me His Highness is displeased that his dinner's late.'

'Right…' He grinned at her, and she didn't like what that did to her fragile equilibrium either. 'A demanding male, is he?'