‘Your chef?’ she echoed.
He shrugged. ‘It was my yacht.’
‘You mean you’ve walked out on your guests a second time?’ she was amazed.
He gave a rueful grin. ‘I must admit it’s getting to be a habit of mine.’
Helen felt a reluctant smile curve her lips, and her eyes met his as she heard his sharp intake of breath. ‘What is it?’ she asked curiously.
‘That’s the first time you’ve smiled at me, really smiled at me.’
She blushed. ‘You weren’t exactly pleasant to me the last time we met.’
‘No,’ he agreed slowly. ‘You’re completely different from any other woman I know, and I’m not sure how to handle you. I’m not used to women who don’t—’
‘Fancy you,’ she finished teasingly.
‘I wasn’t going to say that.’ He looked at her with dark brooding eyes. ‘Don’t you “fancy” me, Helen? Answer truthfully,’ he added warningly.
‘You’re very attractive.’ She did as he said. ‘Very handsome, very assured, very—’
‘Are you attracted to me?’
She bit her lip, frowning her despair, knowing she would arouse his anger with her answer. ‘No,’ she admitted huskily, unable to look at him.
Leon drew a ragged breath. ‘Do you practise being cruel or does it come naturally?’ he asked in a strained voice.
‘I’m sorry,’ she replied jerkily, ‘but I thought you wanted honesty.’
‘Like I was with you?’ he rasped.
‘If you like,’ she nodded. ‘You were honest about wanting me, I’m being just as honest when I say I don’t feel the same way. I’m sorry if it wasn’t the answer you wanted.’
‘Hell, Helen, you aren’t sorry at all,’ he snapped angrily. ‘You’re enjoying this, enjoying seeing how much you can hurt me. Well, I’m not hurt, I’m bloody furious! I came here—’
‘Because you want an affair with me,’ she finished disgustedly. ‘But I can’t help it if I don’t want you. You can’t force these feelings.’
‘The trouble with you is that you don’t have any feelings.’
Helen turned her back on him. ‘I’m glad I don’t. I—’ She broke off as he spun her round, cringing from the determination she could see in his face. ‘Don’t kiss me! Please, don’t kiss me!’ she cried her anguish.
He flung her away from him. ‘I don’t want to kiss you,’ the words were wrung from him. ‘I could shake you until your teeth rattle, but I don’t want to kiss you! You might as well have died with your husband for all the feeling there is in you,’ he added cruelly.
‘I w
ish I had,’ she choked. ‘I wish to God I had!’
She heard the door slam as he left, then slowly turned to face an empty room. She crumpled down on to the carpeted floor, sobbing hysterically. She might claim to have no feelings, but Leon Masters was making her live again, dragging her forcibly out of her living hell, and it was much more painful than the limbo in which she had existed the last two years.
* * *
’More coffee?’ Jenny asked her over breakfast on Monday morning, a breakfast that for Helen had consisted only of coffee.
‘No, thanks,’ she replied absently. ‘I—I have to be going in a minute. I don’t want to be late to work.’
‘Just once wouldn’t hurt. You look as if another cup of coffee wouldn’t come amiss.’
Helen grimaced. ‘I could probably do with a whole potful,’ she stood up, ‘but I have to finish getting ready.’