Arden stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I met Alejandro in the hall and told him you and I would prefer a little supper served later, not now.’
‘You had no right to do that,’ Arden said sharply. She pushed past Lithgow, trying not to notice the press of his body against hers. ‘I think you’d better leave right now, sir. If you do—’
Lithgow caught hold of her wrist. ‘I haven’t dictated the memo yet, Arden.’
‘You can dictate it tomorrow, at the office.’
He looked at her steadily, while she tried not to let her growing fear show in her face, and then he sighed and let go of her hand.
‘You’re right, I should never have bothered you with such nonsense this evening.’
The breath whooshed from her lungs. ‘That’s all right, sir,’ she said. ‘We’ll-we’ll just forget all about—’
‘Do you think I might have a cold drink, before I go?’
No, Arden thought, no, you can’t. Just get out of here and let me pretend this never happened.
‘Miss Miller?’ She looked at him. ‘I would be most grateful for just a little sip of something cold.’
She sighed. ‘Very well, sir. I’ll get you a glass of water.’
He shuddered. ‘That bottled stuff? No, I don’t care for the taste.’ He nodded towards the little fridge the hotel provided. ‘What do you have in there?’
‘Coke and some orange juice,’ she said reluctantly, ‘but—’
‘And ice?’
All right, she told herself, all right, if that was what it took to get rid of him ...
‘Yes,’ she said with a sigh, ‘of course.
’ She bent and opened the fridge. ‘Which would you like, sir? Coke? Or—’
‘Just the ice, Arden,’ he said, and it was the tone of his voice as much as the way he’d gone back to using her first name that made her look up. That sly grin was on his face again and, as she watched, he pulled a bottle of gin from his pocket. ‘Ta da!’ he said. ‘If Arden won’t come to the party, the party will come to her!’
Arden straightened up slowly. ‘You’ll have to leave now, Mr Lithgow.’
“I agree with you, my dear. Business can wait until morning.’ He smiled again. ‘Why don’t you get us some glasses, hmm?’
‘Mr Lithgow—’
‘Edgar.’
‘Mr Lithgow,’ she said firmly, ‘you’re going to regret this tomorrow. Now, why don’t you—?’
‘What I regret,’ he said, moving towards her, ‘is all the time I’ve wasted, watching you slip around the office, waggling your hips in my face, showing off those breasts, and not doing what a man ought to do when faced with what was offered.’
Arden’s hazel eyes widened. ‘That’s a lie! I never—’
‘Temptation was put in my path,’ he said solemnly, putting the gin bottle on the night stand as he walked slowly towards her, ‘and for months I thought it was a test of my virtue.’ He laughed softly. ‘And then I realised that I’d misunderstood. You weren’t here to tempt me, you were a gift.’
‘Now, wait just a damned minute,’ Arden said, moving backwards.
‘A gift from my maker, Arden.’ He was standing almost on top of her now; his breath was a cloud of gin, rising like an evil miasma to her nostrils. ‘His way of thanking me for my years of dedication to charitable works.’
He’s crazy, Arden thought frantically. Either that, or he’s suddenly developed a sick sense of humour. But the hot weight of his hand at her breast was no joke. Arden skidded away.