Dishonourable Proposal

'I'm a model,' she said flatly, and watched in amazement as Jake flung his head back and burst out laughing. 'I don't see what is so funny in that.'

'Oh, come on.. .I saw the poster of you—it was on hoardings all over the world.' He was still chuckling as his brown eyes caught and held hers. 'Claude must have millions on that line. The original Eve could not have done better. Every man who saw it spent hours wondering how that basque stayed over your nipples and waiting for it to slip.'

Her lips parted in an answering grin; she could not help herself. Her basic honesty forced her to admit that his opinion of the photograph was spot-on. She had been really quite well-covered, wearing a lot more than most women wore on a beach, but the photographer had shot her reaching for an apple on a tree.

"They would have had a long wait,' she giggled. 'I had it stuck to my flesh with strong tape.'

'Ah, another illusion bites the dust.' Jake groaned theatrically, and for the first time that evening they shared a smile of mutual amusement.

The waiter arrived with the food and for the rest of the meal Jake encouraged Katy to talk about her modelling career. By carefully avoiding anything personal and sticking strictly to the kind of chat she would give to any interviewer, they managed to get to the coffee stage without an angry word.

Katy quite happily spooned sugar into her cup and followed it with a hefty dollop of cream. The evening had not been half as bad as she'd first feared on seeing Jake was to be her companion. She could only hope the rest of the evening, at the nightclub, went as well... She stopped in the process of lifting the cup to her mouth. What was she thinking of? Enjoying Jake's company? She took a swift gulp of coffee and replaced her cup on the table.

He had been charming and courteous, and had fooled her yet again... Which, she thought cynically, considering he believed she was little better than a whore, and had said as much, tonight and two years ago, only underlined what she had first discovered as a shy eighteen-year-old, fathoms deep in love with the man.

He was a devious, ruthless devil, who could quite happily stab one in the back while smiling into one's face.

'Don't you have to watch your figure in your business?' Jake queried, glancing at her creamy coffee, then more leisurely at her bare shoulders and firm breasts. A lazy smile curved his sensuous lips as his dark eyes finally made contact with Katy's.

She easily recognised the male appreciation and the hint of more on offer in his dark gaze. How many women, she wondered, had fallen for that seductive smile and the potent masculine virility of the man over the years? Hundreds, no doubt. Her own stepmother Monica among them, she thought bitterly. Yet no hint of scandal ever touched him; to the world at large he was a highly respectable but rather boring banker.

Carefully she raised her cup to her mouth and took another sip of coffee to give herself time to control the swift stab of angry self-disgust she felt that she had once been stupid enough to be one of his women.

Replacing her cup on the saucer, she finally answered his question. 'Why should I?' She fluttered her ridiculously long lashes. "There are thousands of men to do it for me, darling.' She laughed, playing the flirt for all she was worth.

'Of course, how could I forget the pin-up of the decade?' he drawled sarcastically, his earlier easy charm vanishing as with a bitter look at her beautiful face he beckoned the waiter for the bill.

Chalk up one for me, she thought confidently, though why Jake should feel bitter Katy couldn't imagine; that was her prerogative, surely? Still, she was finally proving mature enough to handle him; perhaps the rest of the evening would not be such a trial after all. Reaching out t hand, she said, 'You're my guest; I'll take care of that,' as the waiter placed the plate with the folded paper beside Jake.

'No, you won't,' he almost snarled and, throwing a bundle of notes on the table, he glanced at the fine gold Rolex circling his wrist and stood up. 'Come along. It's almost eleven; the car will be waiting. Let's get the rest of this farce over with.'

She could not understand why his former easy charm had suddenly changed to bitter anger, but he was not ordering her about. 'Farce!' she snapped. 'May I remind you it was all your idea? You didn't have to bid; you're rich enough—you could have just given the money to the charity.'

She was talking to his back as he headed for the door of the restaurant, but his innate good manners forced him to wait at the entrance for her. She deliberately made for the powder-room, and dawdled over combing her hair and repairing her lipstick.

&nbs

p; By the time they were once more seated in the back seat of the Rolls Jake's face was flushed dark with rage at the delay. Katy had to hide a smile behind a cough. Serves him right, she thought gleefully. He strode through life as if he were God's gift to women; it would do him no harm to wait for one for a change.

'I'm glad you found that amusing, but I don't appreciate being kept waiting,' he grated.

'Sorry,' she drawled, but she could not keep the amusement from her voice.

'You will be if you keep me waiting again tonight,' he said stonily.

Katy made no comment. It's better to quit when you're ahead, she told herself, and settled back into the plush leather upholstery. She imagined she could feel the heat of his thigh burning into hers, but her common sense told her they were not even touching.

She chanced a glance at his face. His hooded lids closed half over his eyes, masking his expression; his mouth was set in a tight line. His ruggedly attractive face had a curious brooding quality about it. Totally different from the laughing young man she had once known. This cold remote man was a stranger to her, and that was how she wanted it to stay...

‘I asked you if you want more champagne, and I would appreciate it if you would acknowledge me when I speak to you.'

They had barely spoken since leaving the restaurant and now, as they sat at a comfortable table in Annabel's, Kart's head shot up with a jerk at the sound of Jake's obviously angry voice. Lost in her own thoughts, she had not been aware he had spoken. 'Yes, please,' she responded coolly. The champagne arrived and she watched as the waiter carefully filled the long fluted glass, and her eyes widened s a squat tumbler of what looked like whisky and soda was placed in front of Jake.

'Aren't you sharing the champagne? It is a waste of the bottle—I'll never drink all that.'

'I need something stronger,' he replied tautly, and, lifting his glass, he took a long swallow of the fiery liquid, put the glass back on the table, and raised his head, his brown eyes oddly enigmatic as they clashed with hers. Though I might share one with you later.' She did not trust his sensuous smile. He needed something stronger; perhaps he had the right idea—getting now would be one way of getting through the next few days, Katy thought wryly. In the dim intimate atmosphere of the nightclub, the shock of seeing Jake again was beginning to wear off, and some of his earlier comments had begun to sound vaguely threatening as they registered in her stunned mind.

'Have you seen David, your father, recently?'