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She cheered up at the thought that Hunter Lewis’s electricity might have gone off as well. A trouble shared was a trouble halved, and he wouldn’t be able to blame her if the whole floor was out.
She crept into the bedroom to listen to Ivan’s steady little snore, and frowned as she heard the tap-tap and the music still filtering through the wall.
Oh, well, at least she knew he was at home and still awake!
But in no better a mood, she realised five minutes later when he flung open his door and glared at her.
No wonder his door was so battered; he must be hell on joinery! she thought to herself as she smiled hopefully at him in the dimly lit passageway.
‘I wonder if you could help me—?’
‘No.’
‘My electricity has gone off and I don’t know where the fuse-box is located,’ she continued calmly as if he hadn’t spoken.
‘God defend me from helpless women!’ he said through his teeth.
‘Why, are you too feeble to defend yourself?’
‘Very funny!
‘Then why aren’t you smiling?’ She threw up a hand. ‘No, don’t tell me, let me guess. You smiled once and the sky fell on you. Well, Chicken Little, you can stop panicking now. All I want is a light and the fuse-box.’
‘And fuse-wire, and a screwdriver, and—’
‘Are you naturally this obnoxious, or is it something you’ve specially trained for?’
‘Look, lady, I didn’t ask you to come thumping on my door—’
‘I didn’t ask you to come thumping at mine either, Mr Lewis, but you did. So we’re even. Now, are you capable of answering one simple question without turning it into a tiresome lecture? Do you know where the fuse-box for my apartment is located?’
For an answer he shut the door in her face and she was just about to scream it down when he reopened it carrying a small toolkit. He looked down at her furiously flushed face, small clenched fists and bare toes curled with rage and, wonder of wonders, produced a slight smile that bracketed the rectangular mouth with deep lines.
‘Temper, temper!’
‘You can talk!’ she said tartly, fascinated in spite of herself. He didn’t look all that much different when he smiled, she realised in amusement. He still looked broodingly dangerous, his black eyes smouldering with hostility and suspicion, their hooded lids giving them a predatory quality.
He didn’t answer, turning his back and walking towards the stairs. Anne got the impression that he did that a lot—turned his back on people.
At the head of the main flight of wooden stairs a sensor turned on a light on the first landing down, revealing a small cupboard in the wall which proved to contain odds and ends of tools and cleaning equipment—and fus
e-boxes numbered for both apartments.
‘Thank you.’ Anne waited for him to get out of the way. ‘Excuse me.’ She tapped him on the shoulder as he pulled out the rectangular fuses, checking them. Her finger practically bounced off the armoured muscle. Anne’s four brothers were well-built—even Mike who was still only fourteen was much bigger than she was—so she wasn’t usually impressed by male bulk, but this one was built like a tank.
‘Hold this.’
She ignored the screwdriver.
‘Look, Mr Lewis, I do know how to change a fuse—’
‘Hold this.’
‘No.’
He turned his head. In profile his nose looked every bit as arrogantly prominent as the rest of him. ‘Haven’t you ever been told not to look a gift-horse in the mouth?’
Her eyes shifted to his wide, straight mouth and for no particular reason she felt herself flushing.
