Wolfe's Temptress by Robyn Donald

Author:Robyn Donald [Donald, Robyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2002-08-18T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

ROWAN understood how her dog felt—baffled, resentful and suspicious, yet unable to resist Wolfe. His green eyes mesmerised her. She felt that if he tried he’d be able to pry her thoughts from the innermost recesses of her brain. Angrily, she lifted a mutinous face and met the icy brilliance of his gaze with stubborn defiance.

‘It’s none of your business,’ she said without expression, ‘but as it happens it was my father’s.’

He took it from her. ‘How do you feel?’

‘A bit tired,’ she admitted.

‘You’re stronger than you look.’

She stooped to pick up the wet heap of clothes, his and hers intermingled, wondering at her reluctance to touch them. Such extreme reactions were not normal for her—but then, meeting Wolfe had transformed her into another woman, one whose turbulent emotions kept threatening to break down the fragile armour of her control.

He commanded, ‘Leave those. I’ll deal with them.’

‘I’ll put them on to wash. The sooner they get in front of the fire the sooner they’ll be dry.’

‘In front of the fire is where you’re going right now,’ he said grimly. ‘I’ve built it up again. I’ll put the clothes in the washing machine.’

‘I can—’

‘Just get in there and sit down,’ he interrupted, ‘before I pick you up and carry you there.’

‘Oh, all right,’ she said stonily, backing out.

Collapsing onto the sofa in the sitting room, her fingers buried in Lobo’s dark ruff, Rowan accepted bleakly that the only way to banish Wolfe from her life before he permanently damaged it would be to tell him what he wanted to know.

If she didn’t, he’d keep pushing until his patience and temper snapped, and then he’d carry through on the threats he’d made.

But she couldn’t tell him. And as the night they’d spent together clearly meant nothing to him, she couldn’t allow it to mean anything to her—not that, nor Mrs Simpson’s anguish.

Guilt at this thought clenched her hand in Lobo’s fur. He made a questioning sound and blinked at her.

‘Sorry,’ she said, her voice catching in her throat as she rubbed around his ears in the particular way he loved.

Should she contact her father’s superior, the man who’d tacitly made it possible for them to cover up the circumstances of Tony’s death? No, of course she couldn’t! He was a policeman, and if she told him what had really happened he’d be forced to investigate, especially when Wolfe began to press him.

Because if he couldn’t get anything from her, Wolfe would dig deeper; he’d found her, and it would be much less difficult to find her father’s superior officer, now much higher in the police force after six years.

All she had to do was stick to her story and again learn to live with a conscience that had always pricked her. Taking meagre comfort from the fact that telling Mrs Simpson what Tony had tried to do couldn’t help her—would make her realise just how dangerous her beloved son had been—Rowan stilled her hand. Lobo pushed his head against her leg.

‘Good boy,’ she murmured.

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