Page 22 of Too Wise To Wed? (The Bride's Bouquet 3)

‘I want to talk to you,’ she told him angrily.

Her sharp ears just caught his ruefully murmured, ‘Talk... That makes a change.’

It took a monumental effort for her not to respond. It infuriated her that he should somehow have managed to turn his refusal to have sex with her into a totally false assumption that she was desperate to have sex with him. There had never been anything personal in her determination to arouse him; all she had wanted to do was unmask him as the deceiver she knew him to be.

‘If it’s about the advertising campaign,’ he told her quickly, checking his watch, ‘I’m afraid—’

‘No, it’s not about the advertising campaign,’ Star interrupted him fiercely. ‘It’s about—’

Downstairs someone had opened the entrance door, causing a sudden gust of wind to rattle the window on the landing and her half-open front door to slam shut.

Star frowned as the unexpected noise interrupted her and then gasped as she realised what had happened. She had been in such a hurry to intercept Kyle that she had neglected to put her door on the latch. Now it was not just closed but locked as well, with her on the wrong side of it, without her keys, without anything other than the clothes she stood up in. She looked disbelievingly at the door and then accusingly at Kyle.

‘That’s your fault,’ she told him forcefully. ‘Thanks to you, I’m locked out of my flat.’

‘Thanks to me...?’

‘Yes,’ Star fumed. ‘If you hadn’t had the gall to interfere and telephone my father with that stupid message about us attending the wedding... How did you know where to telephone him anyway?’ she demanded suspiciously, and then answered her own question, her eyes widening in disbelief as she accused him, ‘You took my letter; you stole it. You—’

‘Hey, hang on a minute,’ Kyle interrupted her. ‘I did no such thing. As it happens, I found the letter caught up in my jacket, and when I realised what it was—’

‘You read it and—’

‘I thought it would be a good idea to ring your father and introduce myself to him, explain what we planned to do.’

‘What we planned to do?’ Star was thoroughly outraged. ‘We planned to do nothing,’ she protested bitterly.

Kyle looked pained. ‘You’d already agreed that we should attend the wedding together.’

‘I agreed no such thing.’ Star could feel her face growing red with temper. ‘You know what my father thinks now, don’t you?’ she almost howled in fury. ‘He thinks that you and I... That we’re... I’m not going,’ she told him vehemently. ‘You do realise, don’t you, that he’s booked us a suite, no less, and not two separate bedrooms?’

‘Well, he did explain that they were a little short of space,’ Kyle acknowledged, completely missing the point that she was trying to make. ‘And, to be honest, I thought you’d prefer the hotel...’

‘What I prefer is for you not to interfere in my life. You had no right. I’m not going. There’s no way that you can make me,’ she told him aggressively, before turning round to walk back into her own flat.

Only, of course, she couldn’t, could she? She paused, mentally consigning him to the deepest, blackest depths of hell, and then gritted her teeth, turned round and told Kyle crankily, ‘I need to use your phone...’

‘I’m afraid you can’t,’ Kyle told her politely.

Star stared at him. ‘What you mean, I can’t? I’ve got to. I’ve locked myself out of my flat, thanks to you. I need to ring a locksmith.’

‘Doesn’t anyone have a spare?’ Kyle asked her.

‘No,’ Star told him. That was against the rules, of course. They were supposed to deposit a spare with a trusted key-holder, only she balked at the idea of anyone—anyone at all—having access to her most private domain and so she had never supplied one.

‘I need to use your phone,’ she repeated, but Kyle was adamant.

‘You can’t...’

‘Just try stopping me,’ Star challenged him angrily, marching past him and straight into his flat, where upon she came to an abrupt halt. The hall and the sitting room beyond were both completely empty.

‘What’s happening?’ she demanded. ‘Where’s the furniture?’

‘Gone,’ Kyle told her ruefully. ‘Apparently your late neighbours neglected to settle all their bills before they left and this morning the bailiffs arrived and removed their furniture...’

‘And the telephone?’ Star protested. ‘But that’s...’

Kyle shook his head. ‘No, that’s been cut off. Apparently they didn’t pay that bill either. I’ve made arrangements to have it reinstated and to have new furniture delivered but unfortunately not until tomorrow.’

‘They must have left something,’ Star said weakly as she stared around the empty rooms.

‘They did,’ Kyle agreed. ‘The bed,’ he told her when she looked questioningly at him. ‘I bought a new one. The one they left wasn’t very comfortable.’

‘The bed... That’s all the furniture you’ve got...a bed...?’

‘Well, they left the kitchen fitments as well,’ Kyle informed her. ‘So at least we can eat as well as sleep.’

‘We?’ Star glared at him. ‘If you think I’m sharing a bed with you...’ she began.

But Kyle reminded her, ‘It’s either that or the floor.’

‘You’ve got a car,’ Star pointed out. ‘You could take me to a hotel.’

‘I could, but I doubt that they’d allow you to book in...not dressed like that...not without any money.’

‘Dressed like what?’ Star glanced down at herself and realised that he did have a point. She had no shoes on, her feet were bare and she was wearing a loose, soft cotton top and an old pair of leggings—hardly the kind of apparel to inspire financial confidence.

‘You could lend me some money; in fact I could stay here and you could book into a hotel room,’ she told him.

Kyle shook his head. ‘No way,’ he told her firmly. ‘This is my flat and my bed—a new bed, an extremely comfortable bed, a bed I am not prepared to give up for a demanding termagant who—’

‘Oh, very chivalrous,’ Star interrupted him, angry colour scorching her face. How dared he refer to her as a termagant? She had every right to be angry with him after what he had done.

‘I could go to Sally’s,’ she told him.

‘You could,’ he agreed, looking down at her feet. ‘But it’s quite a long walk, at least five miles.’

Star gritted her teeth. ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’ she challenged him bitterly, and the smile that curled his mouth and his open acceptance of her accusation did nothing to alleviate her rising temper.

‘Do you blame me?’ he asked her drily. ‘After all, would you turn down an opportunity to put one over on me, Star... to have me at a disadvantage? Don’t perjure yourself,’ he advised her kindly. ‘We both already know the answer...’

He was right, of course, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. How could she have been so stupid as to forget her keys or, at the very least, to put the door on the latch? She knew how, of course: she had been in such a steam of temper, so seriously determined to vent her anger on him, that she hadn’t stopped to think. That nasty, niggling awareness that she was very much the author of her own misfortune couldn’t be denied—at least, not to herself—but she was damned if she was going to admit it to him.

‘If you hadn’t made that idiotic telephone call to my father, none of this would have happened. Why did you?’ she demanded.

‘I thought it was what you wanted,’ he told her innocently. He was playing with her, deliberately baiting her; Star knew that.

She breathed in slowly and tried to count to ten.

‘Really?’ She gave him a saccharine smile, her teeth snapping together audibly as she told him, ‘I don’t believe you; you’re just trying to...’

‘To what?’ he queried. ‘To do a little game-playing of my own...a little truth-outing? Aha. You don’t like it when the boot is on the other f

oot, do you?’ he taunted her as he saw the way her eyes flashed.

‘What do you mean, “a little truth-outing”?’ Star asked him grimly, ignoring his mockery.

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