‘I’ve already eaten,’ she answered with inward satisfaction.

‘It’s only nine o’clock,’ Liam protested.

‘When I’m at home I always dine at seven-thirty,’ she said firmly.

‘And where’s home, Laura?’ he enquired huskily.

‘Nice try, Liam.’ She gave a softly confident laugh. Although her hand tightly gripping the receiver was slightly damp with tension…

‘I thought so,’ he came back mockingly. ‘You were a little less than enthusiastic about my calling you when I mentioned it at the hotel earlier today, too,’ he continued thoughtfully. ‘Why the secrecy, Laura? Could it be that you don’t live alone?’ There was a sharp edge to his voice now.

‘How clever of you to guess, Liam,’ she teased. ‘Although it couldn’t have been that difficult. After all, it’s been eight years.’ And this man had been married and divorced in that time—wasn’t it logical that she might have done at least one of those things too?

‘You aren’t wearing a wedding ring,’ he bit out.

She hadn’t been mistaken earlier about the reason for that glance at her left hand! ‘Not all women do nowadays,’ Laura rejoined.

‘You would if you were my wife,’ Liam rasped.

‘If I were your wife I would also carry a certificate of insanity!’ she snapped.

Then wished she hadn’t. The silence that followed her outburst was icy cold, the only sound their joint breathing down the respective receivers.

Why had she said that? It was no good telling herself she had been goaded into it by Liam’s arrogance. Her intention had been to keep this call as short and impersonal as possible; two minutes into the conversation she had let Liam break through her reserve.

But once again it was that cool control that came to rescue the situation, allowing her to remain silent after her outburst.

‘You know, Laura—’ Liam was finally the one to break that silence, speaking slowly ‘—you and I should have met years ago.’

‘Strange, but I thought we did,’ she said acidly. ‘There must be something wrong with your memory, Liam,’ she added with barely contained sarcasm.

‘Nothing at all,’ Liam drawled. ‘But if you had been this Laura Carter eight years ago, perhaps things would have worked out differently between us.’

‘Oh, please, Liam.’ She sighed her disgust. ‘It has been eight years—and in that time I’ve probably heard every chat-up line there is. That one ranks right down there at the bottom!’ she assured him.

‘It isn’t a chat-up line! I’m not sure I even know any of them any more,’ he said self-disgustedly. ‘Unlike you, it seems, I’ve lived a very quiet life the last five years. Come and have a drink with me, Laura,’ he pressed.

‘I thought you said you didn’t drink any more,’ she reminded him dryly.

‘I occasionally indulge in a social glass of white wine,’ he corrected.

‘I’m afraid I’m booked up for the next two evenings,’ she refused.

It was just like Liam to assume that she could drop whatever arrangements she might have made in her social life just so that she could go and have a drink with him!

Probably because eight years ago she would have done exactly that. She had been head over heels in love with Liam then, had taken any opportunity she could to spend time with him, even to the point of letting down other friends if he’d asked to see her.

But that had been then. This was now. The two situations were completely different.

‘I meant now, Laura,’ Liam cut softly into her indignant thoughts.

‘Now?’ she repeated incredulously.

‘Why not?’ he pressed huskily.

‘Because I’m already in bed!’ she protested astoundedly.

And then wished that she hadn’t. It was, after all, only ten minutes past nine!

‘Alone?’ Liam prompted harshly.

What on earth—! ‘I would hardly be calling you if I weren’t!’ she answered with cold disdain.

‘You might be surprised at what some women are capable of,’ he rasped scathingly.

‘Not this woman,’ she assured him indignantly.

‘So you’re in bed. But alone. What’s to stop you joining me for that drink?’

Having to get up. To dress. To put on make-up she had already removed. Drive over to the hotel. All just to spend time with someone she didn’t want to be with!

‘I don’t think so, thanks,’ she refused distantly. ‘I did as you asked and called you. I don’t think I owe our past—friendship any more than that.’