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settee in what was obviously a den. The walls were café au lait , priceless-looking scatter rugs dotted the parquet floor and wooden louvres framed the view of a dark sky but a tinsel-town view of the city lights.
    Brett had poured her a brandy then she’d washed her face and hands and handed her car keys over to his PA. Brett had gone to take a shower.
    She’d only taken a couple of sips but she was thinking deeply when he strolled back into the room. He’d changed into jeans and a shirt; his hair was towelled dry and spiky.
    ‘Will you stay for dinner?’ he queried as he poured his own brandy.
    ‘No thank you,’ Holly said automatically. ‘You know, it’s just struck me—this could look strange.’
    ‘What could?’ He sat down opposite her.
    ‘Me flitting around with you.’
    ‘In what respect?’
    She glanced at him then looked away a little awkwardly. ‘People might wonder if I’ve joined the long list of, well, perhaps not beautiful—I mean they were all probably stunning—but the long list of women you’ve squired around.’
    ‘What long list is that?’ he enquired in a deadpan kind of way that alerted her to the fact he was secretly laughing at her.
    Holly went slightly pink but said airily, ‘Just somethingI read somewhere. But, believe me, I have no ambition to do that. Unless…’ she stopped, struck by a thought, and relaxed a bit. ‘I’m not stunning enough or upmarket-looking enough to qualify? Don’t answer that,’ she said with a lightning smile. ‘I’m just thinking aloud.’ She sobered and contemplated her drink with a frown.
    Does she have no idea of how unusually attractive she is? Brett Wyndham found himself wondering. Maybe not , he conceded. She certainly didn’t appear to expect him to counter her claim that she wasn’t stunning enough to qualify as someone he would “squire around”.
    On the other hand, she’d had to fight off a bandit and a sheikh, if she was to be believed, so…
    He shrugged. ‘I never bother with what people think.’
    ‘You may be in a position not to bother—your reputation is already set,’ she retorted. ‘Mine is not.’ Then she took a very deep breath. ‘Please tell me why you’re doing this.’
    He rolled his glass in his hands then looked directly into her eyes. ‘I’m intrigued. I can’t believe you’re not.’ He paused. ‘And I guess that’s brought out the hunter instinct in me. At the same time, I don’t ever force myself on unwilling women, if that’s what’s worrying you.’
    Holly looked away. She paused and pressed her palms together tightly. ‘And if I told you I don’t have any interest in…Well, the thing is, I got my fingers pretty badly burnt once due to “chemistry”. It’s—it hasn’t left me yet. I don’t know if it ever will.’
    He narrowed his eyes. ‘Not the bandit or the sheikh, I gather?’
    Holly waved her hand. ‘Oh, no,’ she said dismissively.
    ‘I think you better tell me.’
    She glanced at him from under her lashes, then smiled briefly. ‘I don’t think I should. It’s supposed to be the other way round—you telling me stuff. And you have no intention of going into your private life.’ She looked at him with some irony.
    A silence lingered between them.
    ‘So, should we just leave it there?’ she suggested at last.
    He stared at her pensively. ‘Don’t you want the interview now?’
    ‘I thought you might have changed your mind.’
    His lips twisted. ‘Because I got my wrist slapped metaphorically? No, I haven’t changed my mind.’
    ‘But you won’t—I mean—bring this up again?’ she queried, her eyes dark and serious.
    ‘Tell you what,’ he drawled. ‘ I won’t say a word on the subject.’
    Holly frowned. ‘That sounds as if there’s a trap there somewhere.’
    ‘Sorry, it’s the best I can come up with. So, are we on or off?’
    She hesitated then put down her glass, stood up and walked over to the louvres that framed the city view. She was in two