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‘It wasn’t a nightie, it was a sundress, and I never said that Ivan was yours,’ Anne denied hotly. ‘Your mother jumped to that conclusion with no help from me.’
His black eyes suddenly lifted to capture hers. ‘I notice you don’t dispute the see-through bit,’ he said.
Remembering the way his gaze had crawled over the thin white Indian cotton dress, Anne took a hurried sip from the glass of iced water in front of her and tried to appear insouciant. ‘Just be thankful I was wearing underwear!’
It was difficult to maintain the brazen front when he murmured unexpectedly, ‘“Thankful” isn’t the word that instantly springs to mind.’
‘Anyway, when your mother appeared I thought…’ Anne hesitated. ‘Well, she’s very attractive, isn’t she? And she doesn’t look like you—I mean, she’s blonde for a start…’ She could hear herself floundering, and so could Hunter.
He slowly put his menu down, a strange light dawning in his dark eyes. ‘She’s been dyeing her hair for as long as I can remember—blonde is simply her current colour. And yes, she is an attractive woman.’ He studied Anne’s uncomfortable expression for a few seconds longer. ‘Did you think my mother was my lover, Anne?’ he purred.
She flushed guiltily. ‘I told you, I didn’t know who she was…’
‘But you decided to make trouble for me anyway,’ he said silkily.
Anne lifted her chin. ‘All I said was that you weren’t home.’
‘Thereby subtly establishing your role as female-in-residence. No wonder my mother started piling on the conclusions—she knows I prefer living alone.’ A slow smile widened his square mouth. ‘I wish I could have seen your face when you realised the audience you were playing to. Mum has always been the type to prefer audience participation to passive observation.’
‘So I discovered,’ said Anne ruefully. ‘I truly tried to straighten her out when I realised, Hunter, but she just seemed to take over the conversation…’
‘Another one of her great talents. Witness our being here.’ He looked around the small, elegant waterfront restaurant which specialised solely in extravagant desserts.
As if he had signalled, the waiter appeared at his side and took their orders, Anne waiting impatiently for him to depart before she replied aggressively, ‘You didn’t have to agree to come.’
‘Neither did you,’ he pointed out mildly. ‘We could have both stayed home and continued the conversation with Mother.’
Anne shuddered and Hunter gave her a small, ironic smile. He knew as well as she did that she had been so desperate to extricate them from the awkward situation in the flat that she had literally dumped Ivan and run when Louise had gaily suggested that she act as baby- sitter so that the two of them could go out for the rest of the evening.
All Anne had seen was a chance to get Hunter away from his mother so that she could explain the embar- rassing misunderstanding. Not that Hunter had seemed embarrassed. After his initial, brief burst of restrained fury when he had realised that Louise had discovered Anne in his flat, he had blatantly enjoyed his revenge, an infuriatingly silent witness to Anne’s harassed efforts to persuade Louise that she had the wrong end of the stick about Ivan.
‘Darling, you never told me about Ivan!’ Louise had chided him when he had sauntered menacingly into the room. She had been cheerfully undaunted by the furious black eyes that had sliced between the two women and made Anne quiver.
‘Element of doubt about what?’ he repeated tautly, bending over the baby in her arms to kiss his mother’s proffered cheek.
‘I was just telling Lou—your mother—that we don’t have that kind of relationship,’ Anne interjected hastily.
‘What kind of relationship?’ asked Hunter, straightening, the grimness in his eyes altering slightly as he took in her flushed agitation and his mother’s wickedly angelic expression.
‘You know,’ mumbled Anne evasively, not wanting to put it into words.
‘I don’t think I do,’ he said uncooperatively, his eyes narrowing as he took in her floating hair and dress. It covered her to mid-calf but somehow, with Hunter looking at her like that, she felt naked.
‘I was just remarking on how alike you and this little sweetheart are.’ His mother
interrupted the long, smouldering stare.
‘And I was just telling her it was pure coincidence—’ Anne began repressively.
‘Hardly pure, Anne,’ Hunter commented, destroying her frail attempt at regaining some of her normal composure.
‘Will you shut up?’ she snapped and then bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry; as I said to your mother, you and I hardly know each other…’
‘She’s afraid I’ll be shocked and disapproving just because she let slip that you both got carried away by your passions one day,’ added Louise helpfully. ‘You’ll have to convince her, Hunter, that I’m not some sort of maternal ogre. Really, Anne, I do admire people who refuse to be slaves to convention…’
‘Is that what you told her, Anne, that we lost our heads and were careless?’ he murmured with a sulphurous smile.
‘Of course not!’ she denied urgently, and Louise came unexpectedly to her defence.
