‘You don’t scare me. And you’d better believe that.’

Bemused by the tense glitter in her eyes, he tried to placate her. ‘You’re upset. Shari, please.’ He gestured imploringly. ‘Be reasonable. Maybe you’re angry with R'emy. Try to understand, I cannot allow myself to be exploited as a weapon of revenge in some—dispute between lovers.’

‘Exploited,’ she echoed, her voice low and trembling. ‘Revenge.’ She closed her eyes. ‘Oh, why didn’t I see? You’re just like him.’

‘How am I like him?’ he retorted, stung.

Her eyes sparkled fiercely. ‘Everything you’re saying, every word is—is—accusing me of cheating. You’re calling me a-a-a slut.’

His blood pressure made a surprising leap, but he cooled that purely visceral response. ‘No,’ he said coolly. ‘I am far too polite.’

She wrenched the door open and walked quickly down the path.

After a second, driven by some impulse, he strode in pursuit. He’d almost caught up to where she stood outside on the pavement, when without warning she dashed forward and hailed a passing taxi.

The car drew into the kerb and she scrambled in. As it moved into the road she turned to cast him a last icy, burning look through the window.

He felt stunned. Nom de Dieu. What sort of guy did she think she was dealing with? With fire flaring in his veins, he raced for his hire car.

Attempting to keep her cab in sight among the many, he wove in and out of the traffic—absurdly heavy for a country of this size—rationalising his impulse. At least if he talked to her again he could explain his position more fully. Surely it was important to leave their encounter on a positive note.

They were practically family, weren’t they? She’d be grateful, as he would be. After all, it had been a fantastic few minutes they’d shared. Fantastic.

Her silky softness still seemed to be in his senses, her voice, her very essence … His hands tightened on the wheel. If he was honest, he wasn’t ready yet to call it quits with her.

They left the Harbour Bridge behind, wound a way through the neon city and plunged into a maze of narrow one-way streets lined with terraces. Having lost the taxi a couple of times, he thought he still had the same one in view, and was heartened when he saw the name Paddington on a shop front.

Wasn’t that where she’d said she lived?

Just his luck, he was trapped on the wrong side of a red light. By the time he started again, the cab was out of sight.

He cursed long and colourfully. Taking the direction he calculated his quarry must have taken, he crossed a couple of intersections before he reached one where he caught a fleeting glimpse of someone alighting from a stationary cab. The distance was too far for him to be certain it was Shari, but it was a chance. His only chance.

Curbing his impatience, he recircuited the block and waited for the lights again, drumming his fingers on the wheel in his urgency to backtrack.

By the time he reached the terrace he’d estimated was the one, the cab was well and truly gone, the street quiet.

Breathing fast, her heart still thumping painfully, Shari paused in the delicate task of stripping her face bare. She would not accept the verdict. She wasn’t guilty of anything.

She’d done nothing to feel ashamed of. She didn’t care what Luc Valentin thought of her. She’d allowed him to enjoy her body purely out of generosity.

She took some deep calming breaths to slow herself down, then, when her hand was steadier, gingerly dabbed the paint from the bruise, revealing it in all its violent glory.

Was it her imagination it looked worse? She cleaned her teeth, then changed into her flowery old oversized tee shirt and slipped into bed. Lying there in the dark, she rolled the events of the evening around in her mind.

It was his problem if he couldn’t appreciate an honest human exchange without labelling a woman. And the insulting way he’d refused to believe a word she’d said. What was that all about?

She was startled from her reflections by noise from outside. Her heart thudded until she remembered tonight was the neighbourhood’s bin collection night. Hers was crammed full to overflowing with trash left by the previous tenants.

She should get up and take out the bin. She should.

From his park across the street Luc scrutinised the row of houses in the terrace. He suspected 217 could be the one, for a light had recently gone out in its upper front window. Now the entire house was in darkness, as was its neighbour.