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friends.’
    ‘Friends?’
    ‘Of course.’ She slid down the seat in an indolent, relaxed way, her arms loosely folded, resting on her head. ‘You don’t think I mean it? Don’t you think it would help us keep to your plan of action if we got along better?’ she asked, for once a serious look in her eyes.
    In that split second he was caught by that serpent-dark gaze, magnetic, obsidian, mesmerizing, her words almost registering but not quite. Friends. The idea was a joke when you considered his reaction to watching her lick the ice cream off her fingers.
    ‘Well?’ she prodded. Her skin looked soft, supple. Her hair, spread out behind her face, looked like strands of lustrous silk beckoning him to touch and make sure. The wide eyes, so dark as they stared back into his, pools of hypnotism. That petal-soft mouth so full he was tempted to avail himself of the implied invitation.
    The alarm beeped, warning of closeness to the kerb, and his attention snapped back to the controls. What was the matter with him? He wasn’t going to get caught up in the attraction she projected.
    That she knew perfectly well she projected, he reminded himself. The way she dressed in itself should be a warning to him. This woman knew what effect she had on men. And she seemed determined to provoke him.
    He was just as determined not to lose his cool.
    So what did this friendship offer signify?
    ‘Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately,’ he told her, ‘I don’t make friends easily.’
    ‘I’ve been told people can’t stay distant with me,’ she said with a toss of her head.
    ‘I do hope,’ he drawled, ‘you don’t thrive on a challenge.’
    A gleam was in her eyes when he glanced at her. ‘It can’t hurt to try,’ she came back.
    ‘Easier said than done.’
    ‘No pains, no gains.’
    ‘An uphill task,’ he warned.
    ‘Not if one is ready to burn the midnight oil!’
    ‘Getting ahead of yourself, girl!’
    ‘Um… you know what it is… no hill too high, no road too long…’ she quoted softly, obviously pleased with herself.
    ‘How about this… keep yourself to yourself or mind your own business.’
    She glared at him, then folded her arms primly and made an event of settling down and staring straight ahead. She condescended to award him a single word. ‘Rude.’
    He glanced at her, amusement seeping into his voice as he kidded, ‘Turning blue with sulks. Not figuratively but literally.’ He turned the rearview mirror towards her. ‘Have a look.’

CHAPTER THREE
    T HE HOUSE THAT came into view surprised Saira. It certainly was no cottage, yet you couldn’t call it a proper bungalow.
    He drove down an enchanting winding road which gave glimpses of sea on every outward curve. Fishermen sitting by their boats. Waves tossing restlessly. Ahead of them, the tall coconut and betel nut trees loomed and then the clumps gave way to open ground and a brick edifice. Clean modern lines, yet walls overgrown with bougainvillea. Quaint stone cherubs on the gateposts flanking the entrance to a short formal driveway. Surrounded by shrubbery and palms, the house looked part of the land itself. Except for the eyesore of a cemented portion jutting to the side.
    ‘The builders were taking too long so I sent them off,’ he explained in response to her wrinkling nose.
    It looked, she decided, like a cake beautifully iced but left part-way.
    The inside was as surprising. The riotously flowering garden hadn’t prepared her for the sleek panelled hallway and the plush furnishing of the sitting area it led to. Camel colour leather which she could tell was butter-soft just by looking. She couldn’t help running a hand over the backs of sofas as she passed. Expense. Elegance. Comfort.
    He deposited her bag. ‘Let’s show you around. So you know which places to keep clear of,’ he added, mockery adding a gleam to the sherry depths of his eyes.
    ‘By all means!’ She pulled a face at his back. A well-muscled but stiff-as-a-board