Free Hot Pursuit by Anne Mather Page A

she wouldn’t have provided an obstacle. She’d never dreamt that he might trip over her; that he’d break his neck as he fell.
    But it had happened. She could hear Max’s voice in her ears, hear the frantic cries he’d made as he’d tried desperately to save himself. He hadn’t given up without a struggle. She’d heard the scratching of his fingernails against the banister, the creaking of the wood beneath his weight. And then the awful thudding sound as his body pitched forward, no longer aggressive, out of his control.
    An accident.
    She sucked in a breath. That was what it had been. When she’d scurried down the stairs to where he was lying in the foyer of the apartment she’d had no other thought in her mind than to assure him she was sorry, so sorry, for what had happened.
    But he’d been lying still, so very still, and she’d guessed at once that it was hopeless. She’d attempted to revive him. She’d even put her trembling mouth over his cold one and tried to breathe air into his lungs. He hadn’t responded. That was when she’d called the emergency services. That was when she’d known she had to get away.
    She’d realised how it would look to a stranger. Realised that she was virtually admitting her guilt. But it was no good. No one was going to believe it was just an accident. Men like Max, men who were fit and strong, didn’t just fall down a flight of stairs without provocation. And if they arrested her, if they examined her and saw what he’d had done to her. Well, she was afraid her battered body would prove her guilt.
    She expelled the breath she had hardly been aware she was holding, and then almost jumped out of her skin when someone knocked on the bathroom door.
    Immediately she sprang to brace a shoulder against the panels, terrified that whoever it was out there was going to open the door and see her naked flesh. She suspected that Matt Seton was still curious about her. And if he glimpsed—
    But she stifled the thought, saying instead, ‘What do you want?’ in a voice that sounded annoyingly tremulous even to her.
    â€˜You okay?’
    It was Matt, and unreasonable irritation gripped her. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’
    â€˜No reason, I guess. Except that you’ve been in there for over half an hour and I haven’t heard a sound since the water stopped running,’ he replied mildly. ‘I wondered if you’d fallen asleep? That can be dangerous, you know.’
    She gulped. ‘Are you spying on me?’
    â€˜Hardly.’ His tone had hardened, and she couldn’t honestly blame him. He’d been concerned, that was all. Something she wasn’t used to. ‘Anyway,’ he went on, ‘supper will be ready in about an hour, so don’t hurry. You’ve got plenty of time.’
    Sara pressed her hot cheek against the wood. ‘Thanks.’
    â€˜No sweat.’ The harshness had left his voice. ‘Just don’t drown yourself, okay?’
    Her lips quivered. ‘Okay.’
    â€˜Good.’
    She heard him leaving the bedroom, heard the outer door slam behind him, and breathed a little more easily again. But she couldn’t help the frisson of pleasure she felt at the knowledge that he’d been worried about her. It was so long since anyone had cared about her in that way. Hugo had treated her with affection, it was true, but she’d always known that in any real confrontation he would always take Max’s side. He was his brother, after all, and without Max’s support his acting career would very likely have slid back into oblivion where it had begun.
    But she had to stop thinking about Max, she thought fiercely, checking that the door was securely closed before crossing the room again and easing herself into the bath. There was no lock on the door, but she found she trusted Matt Seton not to come in without an invitation. As for Rosie: she