As payback for the eye-roll that had accompanied her reply, he deliberately made no effort to hide the derision in his voice. His eyes bored into the quilt she was clutching to her chest, then shifted to the thin satin straps hugging her shoulders.
‘So who exactly are you expecting to “influence” dressed like that?’
The question ricocheted ominously inside his head as he replayed what she’d told him. Johnny inviting her to the family home on its private island...his last-minute call-back in the States...her decision to come without him. And, last but not least, he took in that teasing scrap of material she was wearing.
All of it could be explained away as either coincidence or misunderstanding. But the way she was biting into her lip and gazing up at him through that forest of eyelashes—that was calculated. It was the swift-thinking, self-serving, opportunistic response of a beautiful, unprincipled woman who knew her charms and was willing to turn them on for the right reward.
‘No one. I’m obviously not working.’
Not on the clock, anyway.
He felt anger stir inside him. She might not have an Equity card, but she was one hell of an actress. Only she’d picked the wrong man to hustle.
‘Not working. And not staying,’ he said coolly.
Spinning round, he picked up her ridiculous pillarbox-red suitcase and tossed it onto the bed.
‘Pack your stuff. You can spend the rest of the night here, but I want you out of my house in the morning. And out of my bed right now.’
She was staring at him open-mouthed, as if she couldn’t believe what he was saying. He couldn’t quite believe it either. He certainly hadn’t been raised to turf guests out of their beds.
But Frankie Fox was not a guest.
He knew her type and she was all kinds of trouble wrapped up in a silk slip. Maybe another man—a more trusting, less experienced man, like Johnny—might be tempted to unwrap her. He knew better. It was the one, the only benefit of his short-lived, disastrous marriage to Harriet. Being able to look before leaping.
‘You can’t do this...’ Her eyes were wide, and her mouth was trembling slightly. ‘You can’t just throw me out.’
‘It’s my home,’ he said flatly. ‘I can do what I like. And what I would like is to go to sleep. It’s been a very long day, and tomorrow I’ve got a series of lectures to write up. Because, unlike you, I don’t get paid to lounge around in my underwear. Nor am I running a B&B for my brother’s cast-offs.’
Watching her hands clench, he knew she wanted to hurl her suitcase at his head.
‘How dare you speak to me like that?’ she hissed.
‘Oh, I dare, Ms Fox.’ He held her gaze. ‘You see, I know exactly how this plays out. You came up here to play house with my sweet little brother, maybe “influence” him into something more serious. Only he bailed, so you’re switching to Plan B. Me.’
‘What?’
A slow wash of crimson flooded her cheeks as the case slid from her fingers. But he refused to let his gaze drop to the tempting thrust of her breasts.
‘Unfortunately, you’re wasting your time. I’m on a break from women right now, and even if I wasn’t, I would never be interested in some little chancer like you.’
She was looking at him as if he was something the tide had washed up on the beach.
‘Let me get this right. You think I want to seduce you.’ Hot colour flushed her cheeks like warpaint. ‘As if!’ She spat the words at him.
‘Then you won’t mind leaving my bed,’ he snapped, more annoyed than he liked to admit by her emphatic response.
‘Mind?’ She scrambled to her feet. ‘I’d rather sleep in the dog’s basket than with you.’
‘I wouldn’t,’ he said curtly, pulling his fleece over his head. ‘He snores. And you can cut the theatrics. There’s a whole other wing of bedrooms. But then I’m guessing you know that, from wandering around playing lady of the manor.’
The flush of colour darkened in her cheeks and with a rush of satisfaction he began unbuttoning his shirt.
‘What are you doing?’
He could hear the sudden sharp snag of panic in her voice, but he didn’t look over at her. ‘I’m getting undressed.’
Unthinkingly, he shifted his gaze to the mirror over the fireplace and watched her snatch jeans and a jacket from the window seat. Her face and collarbone were still flushed pink and that glorious hair rippled over her bare shoulders like molten copper. She was exquisite.