Harlequin Presents January 2015 Box Set 3 of 4(97)

‘You’re far too young to be so cynical about men...’

Alice bit her tongue but she and her mother knew each other well and she looked away because she could read what her mother was thinking.

If you’re not careful you’ll end up with no one because no one will fit the bill.

‘I’d rather be on my own than make a mistake,’ she said, her cheeks bright red, pre-empting the statement before it could be made.

Her mother sighed and lowered her eyes. She was not argumentative, and neither was Alice, but she had to be firm. She’d always had to look out for the two of them and it somehow felt treacherous for her mother to tell her that she was too cynical about men.

‘What’s the point of learning curves if you don’t learn from them?’ Fat lot of good that had done for her, she thought. She had been swept up in the same tidal wave of lust and desire that afflicted all the women who came into Gabriel’s magical range. And she hadn’t stopped at the lust and desire, which would have been bad enough. Oh no, she had taken it a step further and fallen in love with the man!

Her mother would have been distraught, had she only known. Like her, Pamela Morgan had worked hard to cultivate a healthy scepticism when it came to the opposite sex. There was nothing wrong with that. It was called reality. How many times had they joked that men were more trouble than they were worth? For her mother, it would have been more than just a joke.

They usually ate in the kitchen, unless there was something on the telly they both wanted to watch, in which case trays were brought—although her mother never failed to complain that eating in front of the television was a sloppy habit.

But her mother watched a great deal of television and there had been times when some detective series or gardening show had been too tempting to miss.

Tonight, Alice set the table for them, leaving her mother in the sitting room, where she was happily flicking between her crossword book and the television.

She had almost had an argument with her mother and she felt awful about that.

Not only was the man intruding into all her thoughts, her waking moments, her dreams, but he was now managing to interrupt the easy flow of conversation with her mother.

She slammed place mats on the table and was reaching for wine glasses when there was a knock at the door.

Everyone used the kitchen door, but whoever it was had banged on the front door and, after just a brief hesitation, she dropped what she was doing and arrived at the front door at exactly the same time as her mother.

‘You sit back down,’ Alice said firmly. ‘I’ll get rid of whoever is out there.’

‘No! I mean, dear, I’ll get this. I don’t like just telling people to go away. You know—it’s a small village and I wouldn’t want to get a reputation for being the sort of person who can’t be polite to visitors...’

‘Mum, if it’s a visitor, of course I’m not going to send them on their merry way! But if it’s someone trying to sell double glazing...’

‘I’m not sure they do that any more, dear. Do they?’

As they stood there, vaguely quibbling, there was another loud knock on the door and, with a sigh of exasperation, Alice pulled open the front door and stared...

‘What are you doing here?’ Her mother was right behind her and she edged out of the door and half-shut it behind her, then she poked her head through and told her mother, who was avid with curiosity, that the caller was for her.

‘Who is it?’

‘No one! You...er...go inside and I’ll be in, literally in a minute or two...’ For a moment, Alice thought that her mother was about to ignore that suggestion but, after a brief staring match, Pamela Morgan tutted and headed towards the kitchen, not before casting another curious glance in the direction of the front door.

‘What do you want? What are you doing here?’

Gabriel stared down at Alice. This was an Alice he had not seen before. Not the brisk, efficient secretary in the neat, uninspiring suit, or the glamorous, leggy woman in the designer clothes she had bought when she had been in Paris with him. A beautiful, fresh-faced girl who looked her age, with a ponytail and wearing stay-at-home, faded clothes and peculiar bedroom slippers with a cartoon motif.

Warmer weather had brought out a band of light freckles across the bridge of her nose. He had completely forgotten why he had come but he was damn glad that he had. Just seeing her did something to him and he fidgeted and looked away before resting his gaze once again on her upturned face.

‘I couldn’t get you out of my head.’ Hell, had he just said that?

‘What?’ Alice was so shocked by that statement that her mouth fell open. Her eyes were glued to his face, which the early evening threw into shadow. He looked tired and dishevelled and drop-dead gorgeous. He had pushed up the arms of his long-sleeved cotton jumper and the sprinkling of dark hair brought back vivid memories of those strong arms around her. His low-slung jeans clung to him, delineating his long, muscular legs.