Jake had entered the hotel and was now making his way towards them, his face grim. His blue eyes flickered scathingly over the hold Brad had of her arm and Stacy felt herself tensing for his sarcasm.
‘Give him a chance,’ Brad murmured for her ears alone.
‘To do what?’ she muttered back. ‘He looks murderous!’
Brad chuckled. ‘He wouldn’t get violent here in front of everyone.’
‘I wouldn’t count on it!’
Jake had reached them by now and after a contemptuous look in her direction he turned to his friend. ‘I came to say goodbye and apologise for my churlish behaviour this morning. I didn’t realise you would have company.’
‘Stacy and I had breakfast together.’
Jake’s speculative look seemed to ask what else they had done together. ‘You’re leaving now?’
‘In a few minutes,’ Brad confirmed.
Blue eyes turned to focus on Stacy again and she saw the reason Brad had known she had hit him. On the left side of his face there were three scratch marks on his cheek where she must have caught him with her nails.
‘Is there something wrong?’ Jake asked her coldly as she continued to stare at him.
She looked hurriedly away. ‘No, nothing,’ she mumbled.
‘Good.’ He turned back to Brad. ‘You’ll check on that business for me when you get back?’
‘Yes.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Actually, I have to be off now. Thank you for keeping me company, Stacy. And remember what I told you.’
‘I’ll remember,’ she said quietly.
There was a stilted silence between them once Brad had left, she nervous and shy with him, and Jake withdrawn and haughty.
He too looked at his wrist-watch. ‘I’ll have to be getting back,’ he said tersely.
Stacy tentatively touched his arm. ‘I—er—I’m sorry about your face.’
‘Don’t be,’ he snapped. ‘In you
r estimation I probably deserved it. I didn’t realise you were that friendly with Brad.’
She frowned. ‘That friendly?’
He shrugged. ‘I suppose I should have guessed, really. He’s a man, isn’t he.’
‘Just what do you mean by that?’ she demanded.
‘Every man who looks at you wants you,’ he remarked coldly. ‘Brad was attracted to you from the start. And you like a man’s adoration.’
‘No! That isn’t true, Jake. Brad—’
He shook off her hand. ‘I don’t want to know.’
‘But I’m not like that. I’m not like Marg—’ She broke off, biting her top lip painfully.
His fingers dug into her arms as he restrained her. ‘Like who?’ he demanded, his eyes narrowed in glittering anger.
She couldn’t meet that look. ‘I’m just not like that. I— Let me go, Jake. You’re hurting me!’
‘I’d like to do more than that,’ he ground out savavely. ‘What do you know about Margaret?’