'I'm not in love!' Natalie protested, but he gave her a glance that was both scathing and rueful.
'Kiddo, when he looks at you, you glow. If that's not love, then you're very ill indeed.'
'I'd rather be ill any day,' Natalie said fervently, stiffening as Kip strolled out to meet them, Annette still clutching him fiercely.
His eyes settled on Natalie with such determination that she felt a quiver run over her skin.
'As host to this part of the evening, I'm claiming a dance,' he said firmly. She wanted to refuse but his gaze was fixed on her inflexibly and she just seemed to float forward, straight into the arms that lifted to receive her.
'Hold my drink, Ray?' Kip handed his drink across, his other arm securing Natalie to his side, and Ray beamed at him, immensely pleased to be called by his
first name. He had heard Kip Forsythe say 'Bradshaw' with a great deal of distaste. Another one up on the odious Neil, he thought grimly. Not that he wanted to be left with the Annette woman; she looked mad enough to hold him under the water.
Her eyes followed Kip and Natalie—he could almost see her thinking and seething. Those two looked so right together, almost a part of each other. Natalie was tucked under Kip's shoulder like a delicate piece of china except that she was yielding and soft. If he could see it, then this madwoman couldn't miss it.
Natalie felt anything but yielding. She held herself stiffly away as Kip drew her to the dance-floor.
'I'm really not happy to leave Ray with Annette,' she snapped, controlling her trembling by sheer force of will. 'She looks all succulent and tropical, like a Venus fly trap.'
'Don't be spiteful. It doesn't suit you,' Kip said in a hard voice. 'And you can relax.'
'Thank you. I prefer not to.'
He pulled her tightly against him, almost angrily. 'It wasn't a suggestion. It was an order.'
'Well, you can't order me about!' It was terrible the way it was hurting to think of his arms around Annette, and more besides. She suddenly found tears blinding her eyes and he knew without even looking at her.
'What did Annette say to you?' he asked softly, his hold slackening to gentleness.
'Nothing I didn't already know. She just painted the picture more brightly. Very descriptive.'
'And of course you believed her.'
'I know about your love-affairs, Mr Forsythe. You enlightened me yourself, if you recall.'
'Never with Annette,' he said harshly.
'You expect me to believe that?'
'Not particularly. It's just that I like the sound of the truth for my own sake. Annette makes her feelings quite plain. Unfortunately, I can't go along with her, ungallant though it may seem.'
'I don't know why you're telling me this saga. I have nothing to do with it at all. I couldn't care less.'
He tilted her chin firmly, forcing her to look at him.
'Try lying to my face, Natalie,' he suggested quietly. His expression softened as he saw the tears. 'You certainly know how to get to me, don't you.? All I want to do right now is pick you up and carry you off.'
'You'll just have to stop treating me like a child,' Natalie told him, her voice trembling.
'Just give me the chance.' His dark voice shivered across her skin, catching every quivering nerve-end, and she was utterly lost, not one defence in sight.
'All right.' He relented and turned back to the area of the pool where now quite a few people had gathered, laughing, talking, some of them balancing plates of food from the buffet. 'I'll let you off the hook for now, but don't think it's going to go away.'
'That's all right. I'm going to go away.' 'And maybe I'll be right behind you,' he promised softly.
And maybe he wouldn't. Wanting wasn't loving, and she had found out far too late how she could feel. She had been too inexperienced to recognise any of the signs, although now they were glaringly obvious.