Free Wild Melody by Sara Craven Page A

particularly
    anxious to have known,' Catriona said quietly.
    He shrugged. 'As you wish. But this isn't really what I brought you here to
    talk about.' He paused. 'Do you remember saying you intended to repay me
    for the dress and other stuff?'
    'Yes.' Catriona looked at him a little apprehensively. 'But I don't start work
    until Monday and ...'
    He raised his hand again, silencing her. 'I don't mean money,' he told her, his
    smile widening as he took in her instant look of alarm and the instinctive
    stiffening of her slender body. 'And I don't mean what you seem to think,
    either. Making love can be a gift—but never the repayment of a debt. I'm
    afraid what I have in mind is far more prosaic. How are you at housework?'
    Catriona was too taken aback to answer for a minute. Jason paused,
    obviously expecting some response, then gave a little impatient sigh.
    'I ask, because you could help me out of a real jam, if you wanted,' he said.
    'Mrs Birch, poor soul, has slipped and fallen at home and sprained her wrist.
    She'll be out of action for some time and the flat is chaos without her.' He
    paused again and eyed Catriona. 'I can't do without a woman around, I
    suppose—even if not for the purpose you seem to suspect.'
    'Can I get this straight?' she demanded, her voice quivering a little. 'You
    want me to come and clean your flat for you every day?'
    'Oh, not as often as that,' he said hastily. 'But if you could pop round and
    straighten up for me until I can make alternative arrangements, I'd^be
    grateful. But if you think the suggestion is an insult. . .'

    'Oh, no,' Catriona said quickly. 'I'd be glad to do it. I'm quite used to
    housework. It would be no bother at all.'
    'Then it's a bargain. Consider all debts paid in full.' He slid off the desk and
    held out his hand, his eyes compelling her to return the gesture. She rose in
    turn and touched his fingers awkwardly, wishing that she did not find the
    slightest physical contact with him such a disturbing experience.
    'It doesn't seem right, though,' she said, her forehead puckered slightly. 'The
    dress cost such a lot and this is so little to do in return.'
    'So little?' he echoed mockingly. 'I can't think of one other girl I know that
    I'd care to ask—or trust to do it. And you don't have to worry about having to
    endure my company for two days running,' he added abruptly. 'I shall be
    here at the studio all day. You can get on in your own way and eat when you
    feel like it. There's masses of food jn the fridge. Mrs Birch stocked up just
    before her accident.'
    'Thank you,' Catriona said, feeling foolish. For a moment her imagination
    had created a scene she did not care to contemplate of Jason working in his
    study, while she cleaned and prepared meals and made coffee. It was
    somehow a more intimate picture than the night she had spent in the flat.
    'I shall be gone by half past eight. Can you manage that, or shall I leave the
    key with the other tenants?' he asked.
    'I'll be there before you leave,' she assured him. 'Will I find everything in the
    kitchen?'
    'Yes, I'll show you round before I leave. I know where everything is even if
    I'm not much good at using it,' he said, grinning. 'There are some rubber
    gloves as well, I think.'
    'Oh, I never use the silly things,' she said, speaking more lightly than she had
    felt inclined to do in his presence previously.
    'No.' He reached out deliberately and took her hand again, studying the
    small rounded palm and slim fingers. 'This is a working hand all right.' He

    traced one of its lines with his fingertip. 'This is your heart line, Catriona. It
    looks remarkably steady. I don't see Jeremy on it, do you?'
    Catriona wanted to pull away, but instead she stood gazing down at the floor
    while the silence between them became almost tangible.
    'Catriona.' His voice was low, and the teasing note was still there but subtly
    altered in some strange way. 'Shall I tell the studio to go to hell and stay at
    home