"No." What else could she say? This wasn't a social visit. But if he really wanted to know more about her...or was he testing her again?
Challenging her? Why did he make her feel uneasy about what should be straightforward?
They walked through the living room. At one end of the kitchen he opened a door which led into a very workman-like office. The far wall had a picture window with a spectacular view of the rainforest park. A long L- shaped desk held a computer, printer, fax machine, telephone, photocopier —all the modern equipment necessary for running a home business. File cabinets lined the other wall. Above them was a series of large framed photographs, depicting various stages of the park.
Nicole was instantly fascinated by them. Matt drew her attention to a framed drawing above the printer. "You should look at this first. It's the original plan, sketched by my great-grandfather. This is what the internees worked from."
It was amazing... the thought, the detail, the vision of the man. "Do you have a photocopy of this?"
"Yes, I can give you one. Now if you look over here..." He directed her to the first photograph by the door. "The first thing planted was this fast-growing bamboo, all around the perimeter of the camp to block out the fences which represented imprisonment."
Understanding and caring, Nicole thought, again marvelling at what a remarkable person Frederico Stefano Valeri had been. As they moved from one photograph to the next, with Matt explaining the story behind each stage of the park, giving it all a very human purpose, she couldn't help wondering if goodness was inherited, as well as strength and the will to meet and beat any adversity.
There was no doubting the strength, both physical and mental, in the man beside her, but what was in Matt King's heart? Was it as big as his great-grandfather's? Did it hold kindness, tenderness? What moved him to act? Would he stand up for others?
Most people, Nicole reflected, were little people, wrapped up in their own self-interest. They didn't stride through life, shaping it in new ways for the benefit of others. Yet from all she'd learnt of the Valeri/King family, they did just that, certainly profiting themselves, but never at the cost of others. They were big people, in every sense.
Her gaze was drawn to the muscular arm pointing to the last photograph, tanned skin gleaming over tensile strength. Her own skin looked white next to his, white and soft, unweathered by time or place. Perhaps it was the contrast that made him so compellingly attractive.
His arm dropped.
The deep rich timbre of his voice was no longer thrumming in her
ears.
She looked up to find him observing her with heart-squeezing intensity. Having completely lost track of what he'd been saying, she held her tongue rather than make some embarrassing faux pas.
"I have the original photos filed if you want to make use of them," he said, but she knew intuitively that wasn't on his mind.
She shook her head. "I'd rather not have the originals. They're precious. If you could have copies made for me..."
"As you like. I'll bring them to the castle when they're done." "Thank you."
"It is too much for you, isn't it?" "What?"
"It would be fairer to my grandmother if you admit it now." "I don't know what you mean."
"Do I have to shake it out of you?" His hands closed around her upper arms, giving substance to the threat.
Alarm screeched around her nerves. "I think you've got something terribly wrong here. Please let me go."
He released her, throwing up his hands in a gesture of angry impatience. His eyes blazed with accusation. "You might have been able to swan through God knows what else on your looks and your ability to adopt a role convincingly, but let me tell you your performance on this project today has been too damned shallow for me to swallow."
"It's your fault!" she hurled back at him. "Making me nervous and..." "And why do you suppose that is, Nicole?" he savagely mocked.
"Because I recognise you for what you are?"
She stepped back, confused by the violence of feeling coming from him. It was like a body blow, shattering any possible sense of togetherness with him, shrivelling the desire he'd aroused in her.
"What am I...to you?" she asked, needing some reason for this attack.
His mouth curled sardonically. "The same bewitching woman I watched in New Orleans ten years ago."
"New Orleans?" He was there...when she was there with her father? "Don't tell me it's some mistake. The image of you is burned on my
memory. Indelibly."
"I don't remember you."
"You wouldn't. I was masked that night." "What night?"
"You must have spent many nights spinning your ghostly tales on the haunted history tour. You were very good at it."
"Yes, I was." Her chin lifted with defiant pride. "So what? That was ten years ago." And she wasn't ashamed of raking in the tourist dollar then, any more than he'd be of doing it now.
A black cynicism glittered in his eyes. "Still spinning tales, Nicole?
Drawing people in? Getting them to shell out money with clever fabrications and exaggerations? Pulling the wool over their eyes? Eyes already dazzled by the striking combination of pearly skin and flame-red hair?"
Shock spilled into outrage at his interpretation of her character. He had no cause at all to think she was some kind of confidence trickster. Even if she had embellished those old tales a bit, it was only to add to the fun of the tour, giving people more for their money.
"I was doing a job," she cried emphatically. "The only job I could get at the time. I followed a script I was given. I certainly didn't fleece anyone. Everyone got good value on the haunted history."
"And now you're fully qualified to research and write a family history." Scepticism laced every word. "Except you haven't quite demonstrated a fine nose for it today."
"You're right!" she snapped, feeling more and more brittle. "I'm much better at it when there's no hostile force muddling my mind."
"Hostile?" he derided. "I gave you every chance to prove you were on top of this job. You even lost track of what I was telling you right here."
"I was thinking."
"Sure you were! And maybe you were thinking what I was thinking..." His eyes raked her from head to foot and up again, "...how well we might go together in bed."
Her skin was burning. Her insides were quivering. She was in a total mess. For a few soul-destroying seconds she stared at him, knowing at least she hadn't been wrong about the mutual sexual attraction but there was nothing to feel good about in that. No way in the world could she stomach any physical intimacy with him now.
"Please excuse me," she said with icy dignity. "I'll go and rejoin the tour."
A fierce pride gave her the power to walk out of his office and cross
the living area to the table where she'd left her hat and bag. She was shaking as she picked them up.
"Running away won't resolve anything."
The mocking drawl flicked her on the raw. She turned her head to give him one last blistering look. He was leaning against the doorjamb, the loose-limbed pose denying any tension on his part. An ironic little smile played on his lips.
"Better to face up to the situation and try to make it more workable," he advised. "I could get you some help."
Her jaw clenched at this offer. She managed to unclench it enough to say, "Provided I satisfy you in bed?"
That wiped the smile off his face. "I don't trade in sexual favours, Nicole."
"Neither do I. And I've always found prejudice quite impossible for resolving anything. Please check my professional credentials with your grandmother before we have to meet again. I'd prefer not to feel under fire from you in future."
She didn't run, but she swept out of his house as fast as she could at a walking pace. He didn't come after her, for which she was intensely grateful because she was right on the edge of bursting into tears. Anger, frustration, disappointment...all of them were churning through her, and she hated herself for having given him any reason to think what he did.
She would not be vulnerable to his...his aggressive maleness... ever again.
Just let him come near her. Just let him. She would freeze him into eternity!