themselves in the factory’s main office, and she had introduced herself to the factory manager, Beth’s heart started to sink as he proceeded to show her some samples of the type of article they made.
The manager’s English was good enough for her not to have needed the services of an interpreter, which, when she realised that all Alex’s warnings about the unsuitability of the factory’s goods for her market had been more than justified, made her chagrin increase.
The things she was being shown were simply not of the high standard required by her customers, and far too mass market for her one-off select gift shop. With a heavy heart Beth wondered how on earth she was going to get out of accepting the offer of a tour of the factory which the manager was enthusiastically offering her. She had no wish to hurt his feelings, but...
Behind her she could hear Alex saying something to the factory manager in Czech. Enquiringly she looked at him.
‘I was just explaining to him that since you have other factories to visit there won’t be time for you to accept his very kind offer,’ Alex told her smoothly.
Illogically, instead of feeling grateful to him for his timely rescue, Beth discovered as they headed back to the car that what she was actually experiencing was a seething, impotent, smouldering, resentful anger.
‘Is something wrong?’ Alex asked her in what she knew had to be pseudo-concern as he unlocked the passenger door of the car for her.
‘You could say that,’ Beth snapped acidly back at him in response. ‘In future, I’d prefer it if you allowed me to make my own decisions instead of making them for me.’
As she spoke she wrenched impatiently at the car door handle, and then gave a small, involuntary yelp of frustrated anger when it refused to yield.
Imperturbably Alex reached past her and opened it for her.
‘And will you please stop treating me as though I’m totally incapable of doing anything for myself?’ Beth told him sharply.
‘I’m sorry if I’m offending you, but I was brought up in the old-fashioned way—where good manners were important and where it was expected that a man should exhibit them.’
‘Yes, I can see that. I suppose your mother stayed at home and obeyed your father’s every whim...’
Beth knew even as she spoke that what she was saying was unforgivably rude. No matter what her personal opinion was of men who treated women as second-class citizens, she still had no right to criticise Alex’s home life. Alex, though, far from being offended, was actually throwing back his head and laughing, a warm, unfettered sound of obvious amusement which strangely, instead of reassuring her, made her feel even more angry than before.
‘I’m sorry,’ he apologised. ‘I shouldn’t laugh, but if you knew my mother— when you get to know my mother,’ he amended with a very meaningful look, ‘you’ll understand why I did. My mother is a highly qualified senior consultant, specialising in heart disorders. She worked all through my childhood and still continues to do so. The old-fashioned influence in my life actually came from my grandfather, who lived with us.’
Immediately Beth felt remorseful and ashamed. Her own grandparents, who lived in the same small Cornish village as her parents, were similarly old-fashioned and insistent on the necessity of good manners.
‘I apologise if you thought I was trying to patronise you,’ Alex added once they were both in the car. ‘That certainly wasn’t my intention.’ He paused and looked straight at her, and then told her softly, ‘Has anyone ever told you that you have the most sexily kissable mouth? Especially when you’re trying hard not to smile...’
Beth gave him a frosty look.
‘I’d really prefer it if you didn’t try to flirt with me,’ she told him primly.
She tried to look away, but discovered that she couldn’t; there was something dangerously and powerfully mesmeric about the intent look in Alex’s
The manager’s English was good enough for her not to have needed the services of an interpreter, which, when she realised that all Alex’s warnings about the unsuitability of the factory’s goods for her market had been more than justified, made her chagrin increase.
The things she was being shown were simply not of the high standard required by her customers, and far too mass market for her one-off select gift shop. With a heavy heart Beth wondered how on earth she was going to get out of accepting the offer of a tour of the factory which the manager was enthusiastically offering her. She had no wish to hurt his feelings, but...
Behind her she could hear Alex saying something to the factory manager in Czech. Enquiringly she looked at him.
‘I was just explaining to him that since you have other factories to visit there won’t be time for you to accept his very kind offer,’ Alex told her smoothly.
Illogically, instead of feeling grateful to him for his timely rescue, Beth discovered as they headed back to the car that what she was actually experiencing was a seething, impotent, smouldering, resentful anger.
‘Is something wrong?’ Alex asked her in what she knew had to be pseudo-concern as he unlocked the passenger door of the car for her.
‘You could say that,’ Beth snapped acidly back at him in response. ‘In future, I’d prefer it if you allowed me to make my own decisions instead of making them for me.’
As she spoke she wrenched impatiently at the car door handle, and then gave a small, involuntary yelp of frustrated anger when it refused to yield.
Imperturbably Alex reached past her and opened it for her.
‘And will you please stop treating me as though I’m totally incapable of doing anything for myself?’ Beth told him sharply.
‘I’m sorry if I’m offending you, but I was brought up in the old-fashioned way—where good manners were important and where it was expected that a man should exhibit them.’
‘Yes, I can see that. I suppose your mother stayed at home and obeyed your father’s every whim...’
Beth knew even as she spoke that what she was saying was unforgivably rude. No matter what her personal opinion was of men who treated women as second-class citizens, she still had no right to criticise Alex’s home life. Alex, though, far from being offended, was actually throwing back his head and laughing, a warm, unfettered sound of obvious amusement which strangely, instead of reassuring her, made her feel even more angry than before.
‘I’m sorry,’ he apologised. ‘I shouldn’t laugh, but if you knew my mother— when you get to know my mother,’ he amended with a very meaningful look, ‘you’ll understand why I did. My mother is a highly qualified senior consultant, specialising in heart disorders. She worked all through my childhood and still continues to do so. The old-fashioned influence in my life actually came from my grandfather, who lived with us.’
Immediately Beth felt remorseful and ashamed. Her own grandparents, who lived in the same small Cornish village as her parents, were similarly old-fashioned and insistent on the necessity of good manners.
‘I apologise if you thought I was trying to patronise you,’ Alex added once they were both in the car. ‘That certainly wasn’t my intention.’ He paused and looked straight at her, and then told her softly, ‘Has anyone ever told you that you have the most sexily kissable mouth? Especially when you’re trying hard not to smile...’
Beth gave him a frosty look.
‘I’d really prefer it if you didn’t try to flirt with me,’ she told him primly.
She tried to look away, but discovered that she couldn’t; there was something dangerously and powerfully mesmeric about the intent look in Alex’s
Similar Books
