Free Stranger by the Lake by Jennifer Wilde

don’t need rescuing, thank you. I-I was just taking a pleasant stroll——”
    â€œAnd I just happened to be on the terrace when I saw you stepping into the maze! Thought at the time it was a damned foolhardy thing to do, but I assumed you knew how to find your way about. When half an hour passed and you still hadn’t come out——”
    He paused. “Well,” he said huskily, “here we are—alone.” He lowered heavy lids over lazy blue eyes, turning it on full blast. Some women would have melted. I found it slightly ludicrous.
    â€œDo you try to seduce every woman you meet?” I asked, my voice pure acid.
    â€œNot all of them,” he said lazily. “Once in a while I let one or two slip by.”
    â€œYour conceit knows no bounds, Mr. Stanton.”
    He looked at me beneath drooping lids, blue eyes lazy and seductive. “We both know there’s going to be something between us,” he said. “Don’t fight it.”
    â€œMy God! Where did you pick up that bit of dialogue?”
    â€œFrom your last novel, as a matter of fact. Norman said it to Lauren as they were standing in the ruined temple. Agatha insisted I read the book when she found out you were coming. I must say, it was quite revealing. One can learn a great deal about the author from the book——”
    â€œIt was a work of pure fiction,” I said calmly.
    â€œThe hero was very interesting, the kind of man women dream about. I gather you’ve done your share of dreaming.”
    â€œNonsense. Heroes in romantic novels have to be dashing. I can assure you that if any man acted like that in real life a woman would laugh in his face.”
    â€œIndeed? You’re quite sure of that?”
    â€œQuite sure,” I said icily. “Shall we leave?”
    I gave him a cool, frigid stare. He frowned, lowering his brows. He looked rather angry, eyes dark, mouth turned down, as though he found it incredible that I hadn’t tumbled into his arms. Turning abruptly, he strode briskly down the aisle between the shrubs. I had to trot to catch up with him. He moved up and down the aisles with complete confidence, turning left and right and left again without the least hesitation, obviously familiar with every shift and change of its intricate pattern. I stumbled, almost crashing into a leafy green wall, but Craig Stanton didn’t hesitate, didn’t so much as glance back. He moved quickly in that long stride, turning a corner and going out of sight. I was infuriated, but I ran like crazy, terrified at the thought of losing him. A few minutes later I stumbled out of the maze, incredibly relieved to see the open air again. Craig Stanton was waiting, arms folded across his chest.
    â€œTook your time, pet,” he said.
    â€œI almost lost you,” I snapped. “You’re hardly gallant, Mr. Stanton.”
    â€œGallant? Guess I’m not. I’m a real man, you see, not one of your romantic heroes.”
    He gazed at me for a moment while I tried to compose myself. I loathed the man, I told myself, yet in all honesty I had to admit I wasn’t entirely immune to his charm. The charm was quite real and, combined with his good looks, quite formidable.
    â€œYou’re an expert at handling fictional romance,” he said, “but I wonder how much you know about the genuine article.”
    â€œI hardly think I need lessons from you,” I retorted.
    â€œNo?”
    He stepped over to me and laid his hands on my shoulders, looking down into my eyes. The smile curled lightly on his lips, and his eyes gleamed with intolerable amusement. I stood rigid, far too aware of his nearness, far too disturbed by those heavy hands kneading the flesh of my shoulders. His face was inches from my own, and I could see the tiny scar at the corner of his mouth where he had cut himself shaving. I felt totally helpless, hypnotized by the man. He raised one hand and