‘Don’t be such a bad loser,’ Jenny chided teasingly.
‘It’s all right for you, but what do I tell Leon? He’s going to be furious,’ he groaned.
‘You’ll think of something,’ Helen said uncaringly. ‘Preferably the truth.’
‘Which is?’
‘That I’m not interested,’ she said in a bored voice.
She went back to her book, pretending an interest she no longer felt until she heard them leave, then relaxed back on the sofa. Leon Masters had a nerve using a trick like that to try and trap her into meeting him. She had no doubt that he had been the one to insist on secrecy about his presence there today.
Thank heavens she hadn’t agreed to go. She didn’t want to meet Leon Masters again, not in any circumstances. And she didn’t want to probe this reluctance too deeply; sufficient to say she didn’t want to see him.
The book that had seemed so good earlier on no longer held her attention, her thoughts drifted again and again, and to things she would rather not be reminded of, painful things that could only hurt her. Why was it always Leon Masters who disrupted the even tenor of her life like this, however unwittingly? Why did he have the power to anger and unnerve her at one and the same time? What was it about him that—
She scowled as the doorbell rang, and got reluctantly to her feet to answer it. It couldn’t be the milkman, she had paid him yesterday, and they weren’t expecting anyone to call today. It must be someone for her cousin.
Her mouth fell open as she saw who stood on the doorstep. It was Leon Masters, vital and attractive in dark brown fitted shirt and trousers, the sunlight shining on his golden hair. ‘What do you want?’ she asked rudely.
He raised his eyebrows at her aggression. ‘To come in.’
‘Why?’ she snapped.
‘So that I don’t have to talk to you standing on the doorstep,’ he said softly, not rising to her anger.
Still she didn’t ask him in. ‘What are you doing here? Wasn’t there anyone available for you to send?’ she sneered.
Leon didn’t wait any longer for her invitation to come inside but pushed past her and walked into the sitting-ro
om. ‘Nice room.’ He sat down.
‘We like it,’ she said abruptly, glowering down at him. ‘I don’t remember inviting you in.’
He gave a slow lazy smile and relaxed back on the sofa, his legs splayed out in front of him. ‘If I’d waited for that I’d still be out there. Sit down, Helen. Relax.’
‘With you?’ she scorned. ‘I can’t relax with someone I don’t trust.’
He sighed. ‘That lets out about ninety-nine per cent of the population. I know you’ve been hurt, but—’
‘What do you mean?’ she demanded suspiciously.
‘I mean you lost your husband at a very early age,’ he said slowly, watching her closely. ‘But you can’t let something like that warp the rest of your life.’
Helen gave a bitter laugh. ‘You don’t know the first thing about it, so don’t presume to offer me advice.’
‘You’re too young to be buried with your husband,’ Leon said forcefully. ‘You have to get on with living, not bury yourself in the past.’
‘Mind your own business!’ Her eyes sparkled angrily. ‘No one asked you here, no one asked for your advice, so will you just leave?’
‘No,’ he told her calmly. ‘Why didn’t you come to the boat with Jenny and Matt?’
‘Didn’t they tell you?’
‘They muttered something about you being tired, about you wanting to spend the day quietly, that you get seasick. Oh, they came up with any number of reasons for you not being with them, but it was obvious what the real one was.’
‘I’d already decided not to go before Matt told me you would be there,’ she said defensively.
He smiled. ‘I know that. I’m not an ogre, you know, Helen, I won’t do anything about the fact that Matt let the secret out.’