Free White Lies by Sara Wood Page B

rage.
    'Please!' He winced. 'Stop screaming for England and listen to me. Other than checking to see if you were all right, I did have another reason for coming into your room—'
    'I knew it!' she spat, angrily scraping her hair back again because it had fallen forward in a misleadingly sensual way and right now she wanted to be as sexually attractive as a bowl of porridge. 'You are a lecherous brute—' she began haughtily.
    'For bringing you supper?' he asked, apparently pained by her accusations. 'I thought you'd be hungry.'
    She was, she discovered to her surprise. Ravenous. But far too suspicious to be taken in by that excuse. 'I don't believe you! Where is it? I can't see it!' she snapped.
    'On the deck. With my compliments.'
    Peering out, she could see the shape of a tray on a low table, and her stomach rolled at the thought of food. 'So it is,' she said grudgingly. But how could she be sure that it hadn't been an excuse? 'Why didn't you leave it there, check that I wasn't gasping my last breath,' she said waspishly, 'and make a discreet exit? You didn't have to sit and watch while I slept!' she accused, feeling the flow of blood staining her skin as she pictured him taking a leisurely look at her intimate secrets. Her eyes closed as if that would wipe the image out of her mind.
    'I thought you ought to be watched,' he said levelly. 'You could have been ill from the effects of sun and alcohol.'
    'You seem very clued up about it,' she muttered. 'Is that from personal experience?'
    'Yes. My father drinks a lot.'
    Her brow furrowed as she wondered apprehensively if that was true. But it didn't alter the fact that Pascal had been arrogant in the extreme. 'I don't believe a word of your explanations,' she declared stubbornly. 'But I'm fine and I'm awake so you've no excuse to stay any longer,' she added, refusing to be grateful to him. Food! She felt her mouth water. 'It's late. Almost...' she lifted her wrist and stared at her watch in surprise, then brought it to her ear to see if it was ticking. 'Three o'clock in the morning?' she cried in astonishment.
    'That's about right. However, it's about your breakfast-time in England,' he murmured. 'I knew you'd wake hungry after the time-change, and—'
    Her eyes narrowed. 'When did you turn up?' she demanded.
    'Just before midnight.' He drew a rueful hand over his jaw and she heard the rasp of stubble. 'Don't worry,' he soothed. 'I used the time profitably. I had some thinking to do. And now I'd like to apologise.'
    'What?' Her mouth dropped open in amazement. 'You are apologising—after everything you said? What are you up to, Pascal?'
    'Roughly halfway through my rehearsed speech of contrition,' he answered drily. 'Let me explain.' He beamed broadly so that the dimples appeared, and she hardened her heart to his suspicious charm.
    'Do,' she said coldly. 'But go easy on the treacly smile.'
    He laughed softly. 'You have a right to be angry,' he admitted. 'I've harassed you unfairly. I realised that when I swam back to my boat after leaving you. It must have been a very different welcome from the one you'd expected.' He kept the smile going, even when she snorted in scornful agreement. .'I returned to the main hotel complex and waited in the dining room because I hoped you'd change your mind about room service and turn up for dinner. I wanted to buy you some champagne and make amends. I felt rather bad when you didn't appear.'
    'Good,' she muttered unsympathetically.
    Pascal's eyes twinkled. 'I'd be mad at me too,' he said disarmingly. 'If it's any consolation, I was awash with guilty feelings and didn't enjoy my meal at all. I pictured you alone up here, feeling ill, far from home, knowing you'd have to struggle to stay here—'
    'All that,' agreed Mandy coldly, glad of a chance to make him crawl. And she was still suspicious of his motives. The U-turn seemed a bit too abrupt to be true.
    'I know. You must have been worried,' he sympathised.
    His whole manner was one of