The Price of a Wife

'Uh-huh.' She nodded as she risked a glance at the hard, tanned profile and then wished she hadn't as she caught a whiff of spicy, sensual aftershave. 'I've found it pays to leave nothing to chance. Even the firms that come with the best recommendations don't always match up to their reputation. It's better to trust no one.'

'Is it…?' The silver eyes narrowed and she wished she had worded that last comment differently. He had a way of picking up on what she said that was disconcerting.

'I think so.' She kept her voice very flat and matter-of-fact, as though she thought they were discussing only her attitude to her work. 'Face-to-face contact is good too, for both sides. They can see I won't tolerate any slackness for one thing. It's amazing how many male-oriented firms still think they know bettor than a mere woman.'

'And do they?' he asked drily.

'Occasionally.' She nodded slowly. 'Yes, occasionally, but that's no problem. I'm always open to good suggestions.'

'I wish.'

Josie expelled a quiet breath, conscious that the silver-grey gaze had flashed swiftly over her face.

'You don't flirt, do you?' he asked softly, making the words more of a statement than a question. 'Not at all. I find that very… refreshing, but also vary disturbing.'

'Disturbing?' She turned fully to him now, sensing and resenting criticism.

'You are young, beautiful, successful and excellent at what you do. With most women one of those attributes would guarantee a certain…confidence. But you aren't confidant, Josie, not deep inside, whore it really counts.

So, yes, I do find that disturbing,' he finished expressionlessly. 'More than disturbing.'

'I don't know what you're talking about.' Her voice was too high and too sharp and she tried to moderate it, her stomach turning over in panic. 'Really, Luke, you do seem determined to make a drama where none exists.'

'Don't I?' he agreed complacently. 'But, you see, I've learnt at least one thing during our short acquaintance, and that is that you never say what you mean. Now, with my vast experience of women—' the hard mouth twisted sardonically '—I'm used to that regrettable little defect to a greater or lesser extent as par for the course. But you're different.' He paused and the butterflies in her stomach went into overdrive.

'With you that defect is not used as an easy way out, part of the male-to-female game to keep me guessing and interested, to titillate and intrigue. Your dishonesty is honest. You would like me to flatter and appreciate your beauty and your gracefulness, like any other woman would, but you don't ask for it—not by word or gesture or even from the depths of those great honey-gold eyes. Why?'

'Why?' She was trembling deep in her stomach at the sudden confrontation, and terrified, more than terrified, at the thought of where it would lead.

'Yes, why?' he repeated slowly. 'If it wasn't so crazy, so ridiculous, I'd think you didn't rate yourself at all, but one look in the mirror would blow that theory to hell. So what is it that keeps you behind that locked door? And don't say it's where you want to be because I won't buy it. Last night you wanted me, Josie; you wanted me so badly I could taste it, feel it, smell it—but it wasn't enough. Dammit!'

There was a thread of anger in his voice now, a rage that she couldn't guess was directed at himself rather than her. 'Why wasn't it enough? How could you let someone stop you living, loving—?'

'I haven't—'

'Don't give me that.' His voice was too hard, and as she flinched he cursed himself for letting his frustration show. Force wouldn't get her out of that steel prison; she'd just retreat further from him again. 'Josie, it's only a man that could make you withdraw from life like you have. What did he do? Beat you? Ill-use you? Or was it some form of mental cruelty, is that it? However much you loved him, however it went wrong, can't you see you're still the winner? You are young and beautiful and desirable and it's his loss, not yours. If he didn't value what he had then you're better off without him—'

'Please—please, Luke…' She couldn't take any more of this. Winner? He thought she was a winner? The bitter irony swept through her with such intensity that she felt faint for a moment. He saw what the world saw. What would he say if he saw the real Josie Owens?

'OK, OK.' He held up one large, tanned hand as he accelerated with more fury than finesse, the powerful car leaping forward with a growl of rage. 'But it's a waste. A damn waste.'

You'll never know how much of one, she answered him silently as misery became a hard lump in her throat.

The scenery was flashing by the windows as the car fairly flew along the road. They were back at the chateau in half the time it had taken them to drive to the caterers, arriving a moment before an impressive dove-grey Mercedes, which drew to a smooth halt just as Luke opened Josie's door.

'Mr Hawkton?' The tall, burly, fair-haired man who unwound himself from the car's interior was handsome and young, his good-looking face wreathed in a smile that didn't fade an iota at Luke's less than enthusiastic response. 'I'm Pierre Delpire; I have an appointment with yourself and a Miss Owens at eleven.'

He spoke excellent English, Josie thought fleetingly as she smiled and shook hands with the young Adonis along with Luke, his accent adding just a faint sexy tinge to his words. And he was the first builder she had met who travelled in a Mercedes, she reflected wryly, although this was the South of France after all.

'I expected someone older.' Luke's voice was not exactly offensive but it wasn't welcoming either, and the other man's hundred-watt smile dimmed slightly as it met the silver-grey gaze.

'Did you?' Pierre Delpire was polite, but clearly he felt somewhat out of his depth. 'Probably my father. But he would not be of use on something like this, Mr Hawkton, not at this stage. I have trained as an architect and so we decided it would be useful if I came to discuss the preliminaries, yes? Then if the proposition is feasible we go from there?'

Luke looked set to argue some more, but before he could speak Josie nodded brightly, her voice brisk. 'That's fine, Monsieur Delpire. Perhaps you'd like, to come and look at the site?'

'Thank you, yes.' He smiled down at her, the bright intensity back in shining order as his vivid blue eyes took in the delicate beauty of the small woman in front of him.

'Mr Hawkton has hired my firm to oversee the project,' Josie said quietly as the three of them passed through the massive wrought-iron gate at the side of the house that led directly into the gardens. 'The idea of the ice rink was mine, I would be grateful for any help you can give that will make things easier.'