One Reckless Night Read Online Free PDF Page A

off the hook, and she intended to enjoy the sensation for as long as possible.
      There was a selection of books on the night-table, including-joy of joys-a Dick Francis she hadn't read.
      That's my company for the evening sorted out, she thought with satisfaction, instantly closing her mind against the sudden intrusive image of a dark, mocking face and a pair of hooded eyes.
      What on earth is the matter with me? She asked herself, in profound irritation. And couldn't find an answer that gave her any satisfaction at all.
      By the time her dinner was served her hair was dry, and so was her underwear. She redressed herself reluctantly, longing for a change of clothes, then brushed her hair severely off her face, confining it with a ribbon in its usual style before descending to the bar.
      To her surprise she found it quite crowded, with cheerful, chattering people clearly there for pre-dance drinks. But a swift, wary glance told her that her bete noire was not among them.
      When it was her turn to be served, she ordered a dry sherry.
      'Trudy's laid your table in the snug,' the barmaid told her, carefully handing her a brimming schooner. 'She thought it would be a bit quieter in there.'
      Zanna carried her drink through the doorway indicated. It was a small room, cosy, with high-backed settles and polished oak tables. A small fire of sweet-smelling apple logs had been kindled in the hearth, dispelling the faint chill of the evening.
      Only one table was laid for a meal, but two places had been set, with a bowl of freesias and a single candle burning in a stylish glass holder. There was, moreover, a bottle of Chablis waiting in a cooler.
      Zanna, viewing these preparations in total bewilderment, heard the door squeak open behind her-presumably to admit Mrs Sharman with her meal.
      "There's been some mistake,' she began. 'I didn't order any wine...'
      'It's a peace-offering.'
      The voice she knew at once. Only too well. But as she swung round to face him, her expression freezing into annoyance, a surprised gasp escaped her parted lips rather than the haughty dismissal she'd been framing.
      Clean-shaven, with that dark mane of hair neatly combed, he looked almost prepossessing. His clothes-the well-fitting dark trousers, the pale grey jacket that might almost be cashmere, the classic white shirt and the silk tie in sombre jewel colours-all bore the hallmarks of Italian designer wear. And the aroma of engine oil had been exchanged for the discreet scent of a very up-market cologne.
      In fact, more than prepossessing, she realised with shock, as a strange awareness shivered along her nerve-endings. He was dangerously attractive.
      That faintly mocking grin hadn't changed, however. And Zanna had noticed before what beautiful teeth he had.
      'Lost for words?' he enquired lightly. 'That must be a novelty.'
      'Well, yes.' Zanna drew a breath. 'I-I hardly recognised you,' she added lamely.
      'Perhaps that's not such a bad thing.' He paused, as if choosing his words carefully, his face suddenly serious. 'I think we got off on the wrong foot earlier.' He gestured towards the table. 'I'd like to make amends.'
      She felt her heart thump painfully, as if in warning. 'That's really not necessary.'
      'You're condemning me to eat alone in the opposite corner?' There was a smile behind the plaintive words. 'I was thinking of Trudy as well, you see,' he went on beguilingly. 'How much easier it would be for her if we shared a table.'
      Somehow he made it sound all so reasonable-so impossible to refuse.
      Without quite knowing how, Zanna found herself facing him across the freesias. And, as if at some unseen signal, Mrs Sharman bustled in with the first course.
      Their meal began with watercress soup, served with a swirl of cream. Zanna had thought she would have no appetite, but she finished every drop.
      ‘Good?’ her companion queried, with a smile across the flickering candle-flame.
    ‘Better