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'I'm glad you did,' she said quietly.

'I have the call-display unit for you,' he said. 'When I take you home later I'll set it up for you.'

'Thank you,' she said.

'I'm very sorry it's necessary,' he said.

Lisa shrugged. There was a silence between them, which she sought desperately to fill, yet could think of nothing to say. Normally their silences were reasonably comfortable ones. There was so much to say, yet little that she could actually put into words at this moment.

'You.. .you're very lucky to have a cook,' she said at last.

'Don't I know it.' He laughed, moving a little away from her so that she let out the breath she realized she had been holding. 'I took over this house from my parents, with most of the contents, when they recently decided they wanted a much smaller place and would like to spend every winter in the Caribbean. This is where I grew up, apart from a few forays abroad. The cook wanted to stay on so I let her.'

'Do you have a butler?' she asked facetiously, gaining confidence.

'No.' He grinned, the action lighting up his ruggedly attractive face. 'I hire one from an agency when I need one.'

'Oh, do you?' She smiled. 'You're beginning to intimidate me. You're not the Dr Blair I know at work.'

'And you're not the Lisa Stanton I know from the hospital,' he countered. 'You look very lovely. Perhaps I should say.. .more lovely.'

She shrugged again. 'Thank you.'

'Come and sit down, Lisa.' With a motion of his arm he indicated a voluminous sofa near the baronial fireplace.

Hastily she sipped her sherry when she was seated, deciding that she needed the courage that it afforded. If she wasn't careful she'd make a fool of herself with Marcus Blair. Already she felt herself shivering with a delightful—and fearful—anticipation whenever he came within two yards of her. As she drank he knelt down and put a match to the newspapers and kindling which were in the fireplace.

To her relief, he took a seat opposite her when the flames were leaping warmly around the wood.

'Tell me more about yourself, Lisa,' he invited softly. 'I'm curious.'

'I can't imagine why,' she said, forcing a lightness to her tone. 'Are you vetting me or something? Trying to find out if I'm worthy of the efforts of your cook?'

'Maybe.' He smiled slowly, his eyes on her face. 'Go on.'

'There isn't much to tell. As you know, I grew up in the house I live in now. My childhood was ordinarily happy, with super parents. I have an older sister who works in Ottawa and an older brother who lives in Vancouver— he works in the film industry.'

'So you're the baby of the family,' he murmured.

'Yes...' she said, lowering her eyes before his astute gaze. The word 'baby' brought thoughts of her own baby, never far from her mind, sharply into focus. From the silence that ensued she sensed that he was thinking of her too.

When the silence lengthened so that she could no longer bear it, while he looked at her openly, she blurted out, 'Why did you invite me here, Marcus? You can't exactly be short of female company. We could have said all we have to say on the telephone about the dreadful situation that you're in. . .and that I seem to be in now, too.'

'I wanted to see you in person to talk about the problem,' he said, unabashed. 'Is that good enough?' There was innuendo in his tone, as though there was more than one problem.

'I'm not sure,' she said, blundering on, the sexual tension unmistakable between them. 'Why do you look at me. . .as though you want to. . .?'

'What?'

'I don't know. I.. .know this may sound crude...' She bit her lip convulsively before continuing, 'I hope you don't think that because I've had a baby without being married that I'm.. .that I'm what you might call a...' She couldn't go on.

'An easy lay?' he offered.

Her face flushed. 'Something like that,' she said painfully.

'You mean exactly that,' he said.

With lithe ease he got up to put a few logs on the blazing fire, then he came over to her and she found herself holding her breath again. Kneeling down in front of her, he took both her hands in his.

'You
are
cold,' he said, squeezing her hands briefly and then letting them go. 'Lisa, I don't think of you that way. Having a baby outside marriage doesn't have the same connotations that it used to have in our parents' generation, particularly in a city.' He got up and walked to the fireplace restlessly, half turned away from her. 'I look at you because you're a remarkably attractive woman. I can't help myself.'

There was a loaded silence in the room, filled fitfully by the crackling of the fire.

'I'm sorry. I know I'm defensive. I can't help it yet,' she said. Having told herself not to presume with him, she seemed to have done just that.

Abruptly, he came and sat near her on the sofa. She looked down at her clasped hands as the subtle scent of his cologne filled her nostrils, his proximity disturbing.

'Has Richard Decker destroyed all your confidence as a woman?' he asked softly, very close to the mark. When she didn't answer he went on, 'I invited you here because I want your company,' he said levelly. 'I'm a lonely man. My social life at the moment is about nil. Too much work, not enough time to make social contacts. So, you see, I have no ulterior motive.'

A knock came on the door, and after a few moments an elderly woman with a shock of pure white hair peered around it as Marcus stood up and called, 'Come in!'

'Your dinner's ready, Mr Marcus. Shall I serve it now?'

'Thanks, Anne. Just give us five minutes, would you?' Marcus said.

'Okey-doke, Mr Marcus.'

Marcus smiled at her crookedly. 'Enough talking for now. Finish that sherry, Lisa,' he said. 'I think you need it.'

As Lisa drank the sherry she had a depressing feeling that she might have made a fool of herself. In her efforts to be open and honest she had—rather clumsily, she felt now—made the assumption that he would find her acceptable as a lover.

The dinner was superb, as was the wine Marcus served with it. Bit by bit Lisa found her defences melting as one course followed another. After a hesitant start, the wine worked its magic and conversation was no problem. They talked about themselves, and everything else under the sun—except Charlene Damero. That, by tacit agreement, would come later. Likewise, the silences became easier.

The dining room, with its huge table and sideboards, was almost as big as the sitting room they had vacated. A glittering chandelier hung low over the table.

'Come on,' Marcus said, rising to his feet to serve their final course. 'We'll eat our dessert and have coffee in the sitting room by the fire.'

Lisa glanced at her watch. 'Oh, my God! It's almost half past nine. I didn't realize. I have to feed Emma at ten. I.. .1 really must go very soon. This is a fantastic dinner. Thank you so much. But I'll have to forgo the coffee, if you don't mind.'

'Give me coffee at your place,' he said smoothly. 'That will save us time since I'm going to drive you back.'

In no time at all they were in Marcus's car and driving swiftly back to the part of the city where she lived, a distance of about two miles, leaving behind them a delectable jumble of used dishes and wine glasses in the impressive dining room.

'Would you like me to make the coffee?' Marcus offered, once they were back at her flat.

Lisa, who couldn't help making the comparison between her small flat and his spacious house, hesitantly agreed. The wine had relaxed her.

Mrs Stanton had made herself scarce as soon as they arrived, and Emma Kate was just beginning to work up a righteous anger. Quickly Lisa changed her clothes and began to feed her baby.

After about fifteen minutes a slight noise brought Lisa's attention to the half-open doorway of Emma's tiny room.

'Would you like your coffee in here?' Marcus asked, from where he was leaning against the doorframe.

'How long have you been there?' she asked, as a wave of familiar heat ran swiftly through her. From where she sat, partially turned away from the door, he could get a good view of her, breast-feeding Emma Kate.

'Long enough...' There was a note of wry amusement in his voice. Awareness seemed to crackle between them as he continued to lean there, and she went on feeding Emma, outwardly calm.

'I'll have my coffee later, thanks, in the kitchen,' she said, her voice tight. 'I won't be much longer.'

His eyes seemed to bore into her as she quickly returned his glance, yet he didn't move from the doorway—didn't invade her privacy any further. There was a barely contained energy in him, and strange vibes that she could not interpret. Silently he withdrew, and she breathed more easily.

Then the thought came to her of how Richard had taken her that last time—thoughtlessly, as though he had a right. That had been the way he did everything—going for what he wanted and just taking it.

When Emma was in bed they talked in the sitting room over coffee about their security and about what Ravi Davinsky wanted to do, before handing over to the police. As they talked, Marcus attached the new call-display unit to her telephone.

'Essentially,' Marcus said, making a move to leave, 'he wants to get enough evidence—with witnesses, if possible—to build a good case against her. She's breaking the restraining order, for one thing. Every thing's, in hand.'

'I feel safer with that gadget,' Lisa said as she went to open a window to let in a little fresh air. 'Thank you for getting it.'

'That's the least I can do.' He was on his feet, ready to go. 'I feel responsible for getting you into this, Lisa... however inadvertently.'

'My number's not actually in the book, but she could probably get it without too much trouble.' The sitting room window faced the street. Darkness had fallen and in the dim light of the streetlamps Lisa could see Marcus's car parked in front of the house. Now that he was ready to go she felt ambivalent about his going, feeling a surge of anticipated loneliness, even though her parents were just through the connecting door.

'Don't answer any numbers that aren't familiar to you. Let the machine answer,' he said with authority. 'If we're lucky we could get her on tape, although she's so damned devious I doubt that she'd actually leave a message.'

As she stood looking through the window, down to the street, Marcus came up behind her. 'Try not to worry too much,' he said. 'We've done all we can for now. Goodnight, Lisa.'

'Goodnight, Marcus. And. . .and thank you. For the wonderful dinner.'

'My only regret is that you've been drawn into this utter madness—.' He stopped, looking down at her.

'It's not as bad as being in the surgical pits in Somalia,' she said, in an attempt at lightness. 'In those awful hot tents, wondering if you'll ever leave the country alive... waiting for dawn.. .trying to identify at least some of the sounds outside...'

'Mmm. . . Puts everything into perspective, doesn't it...?' His voice was barely audible as he looked at her with a taut expression, a slight frown between his dark brows.

'Well, goodnight, then,' she said again. 'I.. .I'll see you to the door.'

Instead, she didn't move because he seemed to will her not to—seemed to compel her to stay within his orbit.

'Yes... Goodnight,' he murmured. Slowly he put his hands lip to her face, one on each side, cupping her cheeks with his warm fingers. The room was silent, the house quite still. He stroked a thumb delicately over her lips and she trembled with an exquisite anticipation. Immobilized, she waited, her breathing shallow.

As his head came down slowly towards hers she closed her eyes, unable to sustain the intensity of their silent visual exchange. When his mouth touched hers a sensation of such exquisite pleasure swept through her that she gave a muffled cry of longing. She couldn't move, couldn't obey the vague dictate of her conscious mind that she ought to move away from him. She stood inert, her body tingling with shock at his touch.

He didn't bring his body in contact with hers: only his hands on her face held her captive while his mouth took possession of hers, his firm lips moving sensuously over hers so that she felt totally lost in him. So often she had wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. The reality was so much more devastating than the fantasy had been. Time seemed to stand still in a moment of utter perfection... She wanted this contact never to end...

Again and again he raised his mouth from hers, brushing her lips tantalizingly with his—teasing her, yet never quite breaking contact. She found herself daring to respond and tentatively kissed him back, responding to that hopeful fluttering of renewed trust within her, even as she sensed intuitively that he was kissing her because he couldn't help himself, that it wasn't something he had planned.

The knowledge that he desired her filled Lisa with
a
wild exhilaration. At the same time a warning voice spoke in her head those awful words, 'an easy lay', and told her that sexual desire didn't, of itself, always mean a great deal. Richard had taught her that. An 'easy lay'... She had never been that.

Then she felt him stiffen as he pulled back from her, and he lowered his hands to her shoulders. 'Hell!' he muttered.

Lisa's eyes snapped open, to find Marcus looking over her head out of the window. He was frowning.

'What?' she asked. 'What is it?'

'There's a car down there, right behind mine. Too close to mine to be parking. There are no other parked cars on the street. The lights are on and there's someone in it,' he said tensely. 'It could be our friend, Miss Damero.'

Lisa turned quickly, feeling Marcus's restraining hands on her shoulders. 'Oh, no!' she said, her feeling of warm relaxation giving way to apprehension.

'Careful,' he said, gripping her. 'Stay back. If it is her I don't want her to see more than she has already.'

'That car wasn't there a few moments ago when I opened the window,' Lisa said. 'Do you think she's been watching us? If it is her.'

'Probably,' he said, a note of disgust in his voice. 'Come away. I'm going to phone Ravi—see if he's lost sight of her.' As he strode over to the telephone Lisa sat on the edge of the sofa and did a mental inventory of her doors and windows, assuring herself that they were securely locked or latched.