In Bed with the Enemy (2 page)

Okay, he could take a hint. In the morning when the sleeping pill had worn off things would be different. He turned over to his side, resisting the urge to toss and turn whilst he tried to conquer the rising desire in his body.

He couldn’t sleep. After a while he rose and padded to the bathroom. This time the shower he took was savagely cold and brief - but it did the trick.

On his way back to the bed he took the engagement ring from the box. It was exquisite, he thought, ignoring the reservations gnawing at his gut as he slipped it on her finger.

Helen had expressed her admiration for the perfect heart-shaped diamond ring herself when she’d spied it in a jeweler’s window. Helen had taste, albeit a fairly expensive one. Leon yawned as he turned his back on her. In fact, Helen had everything a man needed in a woman. She was beautiful, witty, sensual ... if a little bit self-centered. Ah well, nobody was perfect, even himself. He was a lucky guy ... a very lucky guy, he was thinking as he began to drift off.

Before him stretched a future every man dreamed of. He - Leon Price, who’d stepped ashore in this country just a few short years before with nothing but dreams in his pocket - would soon have the woman sleeping by his side as a wife. Not only that, by this time next year he’d be living in a house he’d designed and built himself, on that wonderful stretch of land overlooking the sea at Petrel Point.

In time, he and Helen would produce the family he’d always wanted. They’d have a dog running around the yard and a thriving business to run - and they’d all live happily ever after - exactly as he’d planned ...

Happily ever after was not Leon’s immediate concern when he woke just before dawn.

Helen’s long leg was draped over his thigh, her arm had wound through the curve of his waist and lay lightly against his stomach. He could feel her breath drifting through the perfumed silk of her hair, soft and warm against his shoulder. 

He caressed her silky, smooth thigh. It seemed leaner somehow, firmer - as if she’d been exercising.

Immediately, his body began to assert its male prerogative. He turned in her embrace, and nuzzling his lips through the curtain of hair covering her face he took her mouth in a kiss designed to bring her into lustful consciousness.

Her response was delightfully immediate, her mouth responding with a sensuous softness that surprised him. Helen didn’t usually enjoy making love in the morning, yet she snuggled compliantly against him. She must have missed him more than he’d imagined.

Then she suddenly stiffened. Her hands came against his chest and she pushed him away with considerable force before scrambling to a sitting position with the sheet clutched protectively in front of her. Flicking the hair back from her face in one movement, she stared at him through shocked blue eyes and hissed with the false bravado of a cornered cat.

‘Who the hell are you?’

Now it was his turn to scramble upright and clutch at the sheet. God, did he need something to cover himself at that moment!

There was a bit of a tussle for possession, with both of them locking eyes and glaring at each other. Eventually, might of muscle won and she was forced to snatch up a pillow to cover her charms with.

 ‘What is more to the point - who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my bed?’

 She glared at him. ‘Would you believe, I’m Goldilocks?’

‘This is no time for sarcasm, but if I were you, Goldilocks, I’d beware the biggest of the bears. I’d be quite within my rights to call security. We don’t allow women of your type in the inn, so get out of my bed and go and ply your trade elsewhere.’

Goldilocks’ face began to burn, but she refused to let her terror show. Or perhaps he hadn’t terrified her enough, he thought, when she snarled with a convincing menace, ‘Listen, you poor excuse for a rat. It was you who was mauling me. I happen to be a guest of Leon Price.’ Reaching out to the bedside table she snatched the receiver from its rest and gave him the death stare. ‘If you don’t get out by the time I count to ten I’ll ask reception to ring the police and have you arrested for attempted rape.’

‘Go ahead.’

His glance wandered down her long shapely legs as she began to dial. There was something vaguely familiar about her. ‘You forgot to count,’ he said helpfully.

‘Nine ... ten ... I counted silently.’ She kept a watchful blue eye on him as she spoke. ‘This is Darcie Channing. I’m a friend of Leon Price’s. Would you call the police station, please, there’s an intruder in my room.’

She had guts, he’d give her that much. He made his smile ironic as he drawled, ‘The reception desk isn’t manned until eight, and
I’m
Leon Price.’

Impossibly, her eyes became even larger, and even though they were undecided she managed a disbelieving snort. ‘Leon Price has a moustache.’

He grinned slightly, recalling the facial hair he’d grown in his twenties, in an effort to appear mature. So she went back that far. ‘I can’t recall ever setting eyes on you before, but the name’s slightly familiar. Perhaps you’d like to see my credentials.’

‘I’ve seen enough of your credentials to last me a lifetime,’ she snapped back, then incredibly, she blushed.

There was something about her that made Leon grin. Perhaps it was the pillow clutched against her. She was a smooth fluid curve of shoulders, hips, thighs and calves around a small oblong of white - almost like a modernist sculpture.

‘I take it we’ve met before, Darcie Channing.’

When she worried at her bottom lip and didn’t answer, he prompted, ‘Perhaps we had a one-night stand in the past and you enjoyed it so much you’ve come back for seconds?’

Darcie felt like dying of embarrassment as she met a pair of amused gray eyes, and she clutched the pillow tighter to her body. ‘You’ve got to be joking.’

He raised one dark eyebrow. ‘No, I’m not joking. You look just the type of woman I’d go for.’

‘Make one move towards me and I’ll scream blue murder.’

‘Likewise.’ Her mouth twitched up at the corner as she tried not to laugh at his answer. Being in bed with him was no laughing matter to her. Personally, he was beginning to enjoy the situation.

There was something appealing about the woman despite her profession, Leon was thinking, so what was she up to? ‘Am I to take it someone is about to burst through the door with a camera? If you’ve got blackmail on your mind, forget it.’

‘The very last thing on my mind is blackmail, Mister Price. At the moment I have a pressing need to get off this bed and get dressed.’

‘Go ahead.’

There was a grin on his face now, and her insides fluttered like a salad being tossed. It was obvious she’d have to reason with him. ‘Mister Price, I came here to talk to you - and for no other reason. I’m not the type of woman you seem to think I am.’

His lip curled.

He was impossible!
Her glance went to the sheet ... if she snatched it off him fast ...?

‘Don’t even think about it.’ A warning glint of arctic gray came her way before his dark eyelashes closed again. ‘Talk, lady - and make it fast.’

The fury Darcie had experienced the night before was impossible to rekindle when dressed only in a pillow. He had her at a disadvantage - and knew it!

Taking a deep breath she flung the pillow at his face, leaped out of bed and dived for the robe she’d left on the chair. It was safely wrapped around her when she turned to face him. ‘
Now
we can talk!’

Someone rapped on the door.

 Alarm triggered in him as he remembered Helen. ‘Don’t you dare open it!’

She flung a laugh his way. ‘Are you kidding? It’s the breakfast I ordered.’

And breakfast meant a waiter - and a waiter meant safety to her. She made the door in five seconds flat and opened it a crack, inviting, ‘Come in.’

Leon groaned.

He caught sight of a glimpse of a pair of vicious green eyes and a red-slashed mouth. The next minute Darcie Channing was sent sprawling backwards as the door was pushed in her face. She managed a suitably succinct curse as she landed on her back.

‘It’s not what it looks like, Helen,’ Leon Price said desperately as Darcie scrambled up from the floor.

‘No?’ 

Helen was some riled-up lady, Darcie noticed as the woman whipped the crumpled sheet from Leon’s body with the finesse of a matador waving a cape at the bull.

‘Ahah!’ Helen cried out.

Ole!
Darcie thought, her eyes widening a fraction.

Leon covered his tool set with a two-handed protection technique. He had the desperate look of an animal about to be gelded and Helen was obviously the type of woman with the disposition to do it.

She suddenly felt sorry for him. ‘You’re making a big mistake if you think-’

‘Shut up you cheap little tramp. I’ll deal with you, after.’

 That’s what she thought. Darcie was not about to be mauled by a female with nails as long as hers - or get involved in something that wasn’t her business!
Discretion getting the better of valor she picked up her case and headed for the bathroom. For safety’s sake she shot the bolt on the door and turned on the shower so she didn’t have to be a witness to Leon Price’s murder.

Ten minutes later when the shouting had died down, she pulled a raspberry colored sweater over her head, and then tore the wrapping from a complimentary toothbrush. She scrubbed noisily at her teeth.

She nodded in approval as Leon’s voice rose above that of Helen’s and smiled at her reflection when he said, ‘This is the last time I ask you.’

‘You must be mad if you think I’m going to give up my friends and live in this dump of a place. I hadn’t realized you were quite so drearily provincial. If you want a wife and children you can marry that cheap little trick you shacked up with last night. She’ll probably jump at the chance.’

Darcie gave her reflection a tooth-pasty grimace, rinsed her mouth and spat the water down the plughole.

‘I might just do that, Helen.’

 And a canine chorus might sing The Messiah at the Sydney opera house!

‘Go ahead.’ Helen’s voice was one big sneer. ‘You’d better warn her though. Every time I snap my fingers the great Leon Price will come running back to my bed. You see, Leon darling. The thing I find quite divine about you is your ability to -’

Darcie hastily stuck her fingers in her ears, and only deemed it safe to remove them when the sound of a slamming door reverberated through the bathroom. He was that good, huh! She waited for a few minutes, giving him time to compose himself, then poked her head around the corner. ‘Is it safe to come out?’

Water dripped from his crisp, dark hair. Reaching for a towel she threw it at him.

‘Thanks,’ he grunted, applying it to his head as he glared at her.

There were roses all over the pillow and a vase still spouting water on to the middle of the bed.

‘Helen doesn’t muck about, does she?’

She couldn’t decide whether his lip movement was a snarl, a grimace or a grin. At least he was more or less dressed, she thought deciding to risk it anyway, as, case in hand she strolled casually out of the bathroom and towards the door.

He looked as mad as a nest of hornets! She winced as he savagely zipped up his jeans and said, ‘Where do you think
you’re
going?’

‘To chase up my cousin. I can ring for a taxi from the phone box down the road.’

‘You’re not going anywhere until this is sorted out. You worm your way into my room ... sleep in my bed ... destroy my life, then expect me to let you walk away as if nothing has happened. Get real, lady.’

‘Perhaps I should make an appointment to see you after your disposition improves.’ A battle went on his eyes, then he frowned ominously and his forefinger stabbed at a chair. ‘Sit!’

She sat.

Just then breakfast arrived - born by a waitress Darcie vaguely remembered from her school days. ‘It’s Jean isn’t it ... Jean Edwards?’

‘Darcie Channing? I’d heard you’d gone to England.’ She threw a nervous glance at Leon who was gazing out of the window. ‘Did you want me to open the champagne you ordered, Mister Price - or will you do it?’

‘Just leave it.’

‘Congratulations,’ Jean whispered, staring down at Darcie’s hand. ‘I never realized it was you. What a lovely engagement ring? You are lucky. Wait until I tell the others I went to school with you.’

Darcie stared stupidly at the heart shaped diamond on her finger. Where the hell had that materialized from?

‘I’m sorry about your father,’ Jean said. ‘It must have been a shock.’

Leon came between them, his voice even, and with no evidence of temper in it. ‘I’ll finish off, Jean.’

‘Congratulations, sir.’

‘Thank you.’ Leon ushered her firmly to the door. ‘Has Harry’s wife had the baby yet?’

‘Oh yes, just after midnight. A little girl, they’re calling her Rose.’

‘Tell him congratulations, and I’ll expect a cigar when he comes in.’ He closed the door behind Jean, leaned against the panel and gazed reflectively at her. ‘Now I know why your name is familiar. I bought that old shack at Petrel Point from someone called Channing. You were that skinny kid who got her tongue caught in her braces when I visited the second time.’

The reminder brought a scowl to her face. ‘You stole the land, you mean. That
shack
was my home - mine and my father’s. My cousin had no authority to sell it as soon as my father died.’

Leon’s face tightened for a second. ‘I assure you, the deal was completely above board. It was handled by my lawyer.’

Then either your lawyer is as crooked as my cousin, or the three of you are in cahoots.’ She shot to her feet. ‘Whichever it is, I intend to get to the bottom of it. Then I’m going to take you to court. I want my land back, my house back, all my belongings back, and Wee Georgie.’

‘Wee Georgie?’ There was something totally attractive about the quizzical frown he gave. His looks hit her in the guts like a sledgehammer. She sucked in her stomach muscles to steel herself against them. No man should be as attractive as this one.

‘Wee Georgie is my dog.’