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He thought she would ask how. Entrepreneurs were always interested in how you made the media do things.

  She didn’t. She said fiercely, ‘Why?’

  He didn’t answer for a moment. Her eyes were huge—brown and bewildered and determined, not to be sold a line. Steven wanted to kiss her.

  ‘Because of me?’ she said furiously. ‘There was no need.’

  He spread his hands.

  ‘I didn’t cry, you know. I don’t care what people think they saw. I did not cry!’

  ‘Of course not.’

  The soothing tone was a mistake. She glared at him.

  ‘I don’t need special handling. I can take care of myself.’

  Her eyes snapped. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her until her eyes closed and she melted against him…

  He swallowed. ‘I know you don’t.’

  ‘So why interfere?’

  Steven said carefully, ‘I was unchivalrous. You weren’t expecting an attack. Result—both of us looked—’ he considered and discarded all the words she would resent ‘—unimpressive,’ he concluded.

  Pepper stared.

  Not very encouraging, Steven thought. He tried a winning smile. ‘Neither you nor I needed that. All I’ve done is to make sure that revealing clips don’t haunt us in the future as we go onward and upward.’

  The wide brown eyes were unwinking. He could not tell what she was thinking. Oh, hell, he hadn’t sounded as if he were patronising her, had he?

  She put her head on one side. ‘So you’re saving your own face as much as mine?’ she asked in a neutral voice.

  ‘Yes,’ he said fervently.

  A huge smile broke through. And that divine shyness that he remembered. She was slightly pink about the cheekbones and her voice was gruff.

  ‘Liar. But thank you.’ She thrust out her hand. ‘My turn to apologise, I think.’

  So she wouldn’t climb down, huh? Sandy Franks, you’re an idiot. This is a woman who wants her men to be gentlemanly. This is a woman of principle.

  He felt as if a dark prison had suddenly collapsed like a house of cards, without him having to do a thing about it.

  He took her hand and held on to it. ‘Then do it properly. Have dinner with me.’

  Her fingers twitched in his hold. ‘I—’

  ‘Go on. What have you got to lose?’ He laughed down into her. ‘Let’s share the heat of the kitchen and see where it gets us.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  STUPID, stupid, stupid. Steven cursed himself all the way back on the train to Oxford.

  Of course she wouldn’t come out to dinner with him. It must have sounded as if he was barely going to let the Lobster Thermidor touch her lips before he jumped on her. No woman in her right mind went to dinner with an incipient sex maniac. And Pepper Calhoun was certainly in her right mind.

  The trouble was, when she got that faint flush along her cheekbones—and those glorious lashes trembled—and her voice went as gruff as a guilty schoolboy’s…

  Remembering was too much for his self-command. Steven gritted his teeth and concentrated hard on the shadowed landscape beyond the window until he was in control again.

  Heaven help him, when Pepper Calhoun was agitated every little thing she did had the unfortunate effect of bringing his animal self banging out of the basement roaring. And Steven had thought his animal self was well and truly dead and buried, along with acne and examinations.

  What on earth had he been thinking of? He had never behaved like that before. Even when he was head over heels in love with Courtney he had never invited her to dinner in a voice that was more than half a threat.

  ‘Captain Blood strikes again,’ he said aloud.

  Fortunately the carriage was empty. But the sound of his own voice startled him enough to bring him to his feet. He prowled restlessly along the aisle, backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, his mind racing.

  What had the woman done to him?

  And what in the world was he going to do about it?

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. Pepper could not keep her mind on the cheerful conversation.

  Jemima had booked a table at a fashionable Italian bistro for dinner after the reception. ‘There are always stragglers,’ she had said wisely.

  She was right. The rump of the party was not going to be moved without offer of some serious protein. They were full of champagne and goodwill. Out of the Attic ought to get a terrific press out of it.

  But Pepper could have screamed with frustration. All through the endless meal she kept thinking, What am I doing here? I could be with him.

  It would have been so easy to have dinner with him. After all that champagne she needed to eat. Why not with Steven Konig? The cousins could have fielded the stragglers easily.

  It would have been the ideal opportunity for Pepper to make her point—and then a graceful apology on both sides, followed by a firm farewell. Closure—that was what it would have given her. And, boy, did she need closure with Steven Konig. At least she did if she were to stop thinking about him like this, all the time.

  So what on earth had made her go into full retreat, like a high school girl asked on her first date? He must have thought she was a complete idiot.

  Rightly, Pepper told herself grimly. She was a complete idiot.

  Her spaghetti carbonara lost its appeal. She pushed it away.

  ‘You and Jemima are going to break the chef’s heart between you,’ said Izzy dryly.

  Jemima had stirred her salade niçoise around her plate, but the pile of salad leaves had not diminished much. Pepper guessed that she had eaten a mouthful of tuna and a couple of olives. No wonder Izzy was worried, she thought, startled.

  But Jemima was not interested in discussing food.

  ‘I thought your Lord Zog was great, Pepper. One for the list.’

  The sisters claimed to maintain a list of eligible men. They called it the Endangered Species list.

  Pepper frowned. She did not like Steven Konig. He made her feel out of control and defensive. But she did not want her glamorous cousins to hurt him.

  ‘Leave him alone, Jay Jay.’

  Her cousin looked hurt. ‘I don’t poach.’

  ‘It’s not a question of poaching,’ said Pepper furiously. ‘I just don’t want to be the one to put him in the target zone.’

  Izzy and Jemima looked at each other. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Target zone?’

  ‘Your seek and seduce mission,’ said Pepper with feeling. ‘You’re lethal, both of you.’

  They weren’t hurt. They weren’t shocked. They laughed and called her a scaredy cat.

  ‘That’s what all women do,’ Jemima pointed out. ‘Why should Steven Konig get special treatment?’

  ‘Sweet. She wants to protect him,’ said Izzy kindly. She shook her head. ‘When will you learn, Pepper? Men don’t want to be protected.’

  Pepper stared.

  Izzy took on her tutorial voice. ‘Men think they’re lords of the universe. Let a guy think you want to stop him being hurt, and he’ll find it the biggest turn-off in the world.’

  ‘Like I care,’ flashed Pepper. ‘I never wanted to turn Lord Zog on, if you remember.’

  They both hooted. And then the subject of Steven Konig was overtaken by more important stuff, like how many people it took to order a zabaglione.

  But when they got back to the apartment Pepper said quietly, ‘I’m serious, guys. Leave the man alone. He’s not your style.’

  Jemima kicked off her five-inch heels and flung herself on the sofa. ‘But he’s yours.’

  ‘No!’ said Pepper recoiling.

  Izzy was peeling off everything, down to her lime-green underwear. It was a hot night. She was quite unselfconscious. More, she looked as if she was enjoying herself, dancing around bare-legged and gorgeous in her uplift bra and matching tanga.

  Pepper thought, Would my self-confidence get a boost from psychedelic underwear? She thought of her abundant flesh and flinched.
>
  Izzy rolled her party gear into a bundle, as if she were going off to swim, and lobbed it into the corner.

  ‘Course he is. Just as well,’ she added irrepressibly. ‘You haven’t taken to any of the men that we’ve trotted past you.’

  ‘You’ve what?’

  The sisters looked at each other and laughed. ‘She didn’t even notice,’ sighed Jemima.

  ‘Told you,’ agreed Izzy.

  Pepper was horrified. ‘You’ve been trying to set me up with dates?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Izzy.

  Pepper began to walk up and down agitatedly. ‘I thought I’d got away from all that. How could you?’

  The others looked at each other, bewildered.

  ‘We do it all the time,’ said Jemima eventually. ‘Girls do.’

  ‘Not this girl.’ Pepper was very angry. But she could see they did not understand. She took a deep breath. ‘Look, I appreciate the thought. But you two are different from me,’ she said with care. ‘I’ve dated in the past but—well, it was all very low-key. Do you know what I mean?’

  They both frowned. Jemima looked embarrassed. Izzy, true to form, was more blunt. ‘Do you mean you’re a virgin?’

  Pepper flushed. When would she get used to the frankness with which these two discussed their private lives? ‘That’s not quite what I meant,’ she said with dignity.

  ‘Okay. Explain, then.’

  Pepper marshalled her thoughts. ‘Look, there are two ways to find a boyfriend, right? Either you’re both in the same group or the girl is such a spectacular dish that the tomcats just gather.’

  Izzy gave a choke of laughter. ‘That’s one way of putting it.’

  ‘Well, I wasn’t either of those things. I’ve never been beautiful. And I sometimes thought I went to a different school every year. Summer camp, too. Even when I went to the local high school eventually I had a social life but—Well, let’s just say I was not the cheerleader type.’

  ‘You were a swot,’ Izzy interpreted comfortingly. ‘So was Jay Jay. People grow out of it.’

  Pepper was surprised into laughing in spite of herself. ‘I guess they do, at that.’

  Izzy’s comforting tone became edged with impatience. ‘So, when you were sixteen you were a swot, not a swinger. What has that got to do with the price of fish?’

  This was so much more difficult than she could have imagined. She could not bring herself to share her cousins’ frankness. She imagined herself saying, I got dates because the boys in high school were all the sons of people who owed my grandmother, and she came out in a cold sweat. Was she ever going to get over the effect Mary Ellen had had on her life? ‘You have no idea what it cost me to get you a social life.’

  She said, ‘I did get dates. I went to parties and picnics. But—take the high school prom. There was always a guy to escort me. But at the end of the evening people stop clowning around. That’s when it gets up close and personal, you know?’

  They were both staring at her as if they had been stuffed.

  ‘The slow dance moment?’ said Pepper desperately.

  ‘You mean when someone turns the lights out and everybody goes into a clinch?’ said Izzy gropingly.

  ‘Not at any school I ever attended,’ said Pepper, shocked into laughter for the second time. ‘But in principle, yeah, you’ve got it.’

  Both cousins still looked blank.

  ‘And?’ prompted Izzy.

  ‘I pretended I was enjoying myself,’ said Pepper baldly.

  There was a pause. The cousins looked at each other.

  Then Izzy patted her hand. ‘Yup. Women do that. It’s only adolescent males who think sex is a group sport.’

  ‘But that’s just the point,’ said Pepper sorrowfully. ‘The guy was pretending, too. In fact—’

  In fact he probably had a contract with my grandmother in his pocket. No, she was not going to say that. Not even to these unshockable cousins. She needed to hang on to some self-respect, after all.

  ‘Look, guys, I really appreciate what you’re trying to do. But just leave it, okay? I’ve had steady dates in the past and I know I’m better off without them. Believe me.’

  She tried to sleep but it was fitful. In the end she gave up and padded out into the kitchen. She even made herself some of their disgusting orange tea, though she could not bring herself to put milk in it.

  Oh, it was not fair. She should be on top of the world. She had her start-up funding. Now she could rent the Victorian shop she had found; confirm her orders with the suppliers; start to plan the opening. She was on her way at last, doing what she did best.

  And all she could do was sit here in the dark thinking about a man she had met twice in her life.

  This is no time to turn into a kid with a crush, she scolded herself. Grow up. You’re responsible for other people’s money here.

  Yes, that was better. When self-contempt did not work, guilt was always a great spur, she thought, mocking herself. She began to flick through the second stage of her business plan in a desultory way.

  Yes, it stood up really well. Pepper was pleased. She was particularly proud of her analysis of the best locations for branches of Out of the Attic. It was all in there: demographics, local facilities, ambience, transport. Even the way the pattern of visitors to the area varied over the course of the day.

  ‘The second store is even more important than the first in many ways. To minimise the impact on management it should be sited no more than two hours’ journey from the first,’ she had written. So what was she going to do about it?

  She reviewed her list of possibles; so far she had worked on statistical information alone. Now she had better start looking at them in earnest. Where to start? St Albans? Esher? Oxford…

  Oxford. It set off a warning bell in her head. Rapidly followed by an earthquake.

  She remembered the nearly bearded pirate on the plane laughing down at her. His eyes. His hands. That long moment when she had thought he could hear her thoughts.

  She heard herself saying, ‘That’s a great marketing job you’re doing. Has the town got you on a retainer?’

  The pirate had offered her the full Oxford tour, hadn’t he?

  And he was Steven Konig.

  The report fell to the floor as Pepper jumped up, hands to her cheeks. Horrified. Ashamed. Mad.

  Oh, God, she was more than stupid. How on earth had she missed that before?

  The kitchen door opened and Izzy trailed in, yawning.

  ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘You all right?’

  Pepper did not respond. Steven Konig was the pirate who had said ‘I bet you could do just about anything you set your mind to.’ The first time she’d met him she had felt as if they were two ends of an electric arc. She had wanted him to ask her name so badly. Only he hadn’t. And now…

  Her whirling thoughts skidded to a sickening halt. Did he know?

  He had to know. He had turned into someone else when they met at Indigo. Pepper had not expected to see the pirate, so of course she had not recognised him. She had been deceived by the lack of beard and the casual clothes. Steven Konig in a suit was an entirely different class of renegade.

  But Pepper had been just the same. Heck, she only had one wardrobe. She didn’t change like a chameleon. He must have recognised her the moment he saw her. Of course he knew.

  So why…?

  ‘You don’t look all right.’ Izzy slumped into the kitchen chair opposite her. ‘What got you out of bed at five in the morning? Hangover? Or cold feet about what you’ve taken on?’

  Pepper’s lips felt numb. ‘I know who Steven Konig is.’

  Izzy raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Memory loss, too, huh? That sounds like hangover double plus. Yes, duckie, we all know who Steven Konig is. Sexy article who gave you a bad time on network television.’

  ‘No. Well, yes, but that’s not all.’ Pepper raised shocked eyes. ‘I met him before, Izzy. How could I have forgotten?’

  Izzy blinked. ‘What?’

>   Pepper explained. ‘The guy looked like he was a member of a heavy metal band,’ she finished.

  She thought about his three days’ growth of beard and that devil-may-care swagger. If Izzy thought he was sexy in suit, what would she have made of that? Just the thought of it made Pepper uncomfortably hot.

  ‘I mean, not at all the sort of man who attracts me normally.’

  ‘And that would be…?’ said Izzy politely.

  Pepper ignored that. ‘But the plane banked and I fell. He sort of caught me, you know? And I just felt—’

  ‘Whoosh!’ supplied Izzy, whizzing her hands up like an exploding rocket.

  Pepper was disturbed. ‘I suppose so.’ A muscle worked in her cheek. She felt irritated with herself. ‘It’s so not me. So—adolescent.’

  ‘Lucky you,’ said Izzy, unimpressed. ‘Especially as the world clearly went whoosh for him, too.’

  Pepper was torn between hope and a curious reluctance. ‘You don’t mean that,’ she said hopefully.

  ‘Listen, I’ve been watching men pant after Jemima since she was twelve. Trust the Izzy eye. That was a man on a major frustration trip last night.’ Izzy beamed. ‘And gorgeous with it. Great. Go for it.’

  ‘But I don’t know how,’ Pepper wailed, shocked into simple truth.

  Izzy stayed calm. ‘You’re quite sure you’re not a virgin?’

  ‘Absolutely. I was large. I was homely. I was a swot with a protective grandmother and a homework habit,’ said Pepper coldly. ‘I was not a prisoner. I’m not a virgin.’

  Although the way she felt now she might just as well be. And her sexual experience was very limited in comparison with most of her generation. With her cousins’, for example. She nearly admitted it. But what would be the point?

  Izzy shrugged.

  Pepper pounded her fists on the wall. ‘Oh, why is this happening now? I haven’t got time for all this. I’ve got a business to set up.’

  ‘The timing is always wrong,’ Izzy said tolerantly.

  Pepper stiffened. ‘Timing of what?’

  Her cousin gave her a wide, understanding smile. ‘The extremity of lust,’ she said cheerfully.

  Pepper flinched.

  Izzy got up. ‘It won’t go away, you know. Better get it sorted once and for all. Before it takes over your life.’