Chapter 6 Dinner, Interrupted

BUT ONLY SINCE his wife had died ... not during the first twelve years of Vivienne's life. And he could have come to see her before that. He could have been a part-time father to her throughout her childhood. The couple who had looked after her had never pretended to be her parents, never given her the love she had missed out on by not being part of a normal family.

Vivienne had grasped from a very early age that they were paid minders. She had been told that her mother had died soon after giving birth to her, and her father was busy elsewhere. She couldn't remember exactly when she had learnt that he had another family. The sense of being an outcast went back a long way. And one day, when she was twelve years old, he had simply come to claim a possession he hadn't valued at all while his wife had been alive.

Vivienne had defied his right to her with all the pent-up resentment of not ever having belonged to anyone.

'I don't want to live with you. And I won't!' she had cried. 'Don't try to make me. I won't go!'

He hadn't tried to make her. Perhaps he realised she could never feel she belonged there. She didn't belong anywhere. And while he had fulfilled a limited father role over the last twelve years, she could never feel at home with him, let alone in his house.

She put on a brittle smile. 'It's a bit late for that, don't you think, Father?'

'That's up to you, my dear,' he answered easily, removing any sense of pressure.

Their attention was drawn by the entrance of a noisy party into the subdued atmosphere of the restaurant; a number of men preceded by five stunning-looking women, dressed and groomed in the height of fashion-probably models, Vivienne thought-and all laughing at something that one of the men had said, it seemed, because they were turned towards him with expressions of delighted amusement and happy expectation.

'Adrian Blackwood,' Sir Gabriel muttered in a tone of vexation.

Vivienne's head jerked back to face her father as her heart performed a most uncharacteristic flutter. Even at this distance in time Adrian Blackwood had an effect on her that no other man had ever had. She felt her heart start to race and sternly took control of herself.

The last thing she would want was for Adrian to catch her looking at him with any interest or curiosity. Not after what had happened before. That one time so long ago ... how close she had come to making a fool of herself. That wouldn't happen again!

If he passed their table, an idle glance at him was acceptable, but she would not allow the feelings he aroused in her to show in any way... to betray even the slightest hint of her vulnerability to his potent attraction.

She was prickly with awareness of the party's progress towards them. She hoped that it would not stop short of where she and her father were seated, so that she could see the man again without appearing overtly curious.

Vivienne worked on perfecting a facade of indifference as the voices came closer and closer ...

'You must come, Adrian ...'

'Adrian, darling ...'

'Adrian, you couldn't possibly ...'

How typical that he should have gathered a harem of beautiful women about him, Vivienne thought savagely. The other men in the party obviously didn't count. The women only had eyes for him. If ever there was a satyr of a man, it was Adrian Blackwood.

To have even considered for a moment that he might have sent the cards and the roses was utter madness. His whole attitude to the female sex was diametrically opposed to such constancy.

'Gabriel ...'

The low, sexy drawl struck an instant chord of memory and vibrated along it, making Vivienne's nerves tingle with tension.

The waiter leading the party glanced back at Adrian, who gave directions in his smooth, charming manner. 'Please take my guests on to our table and see to their needs. I'll be with you all in a moment or two.'

'Please don't leave your guests,' her father said in reluctant acknowledgement as the man halted beside them.

'Pardon me for intruding, Gabriel ...'

A shiver of apprehension ran through her body ... or was it anticipation? The quick rise and fall of her breasts... she hoped he hadn't noticed. Vivienne clamped her fingers together, nails pressing tightly into her flesh under cover of the tablecloth. The need to prevent any revealing reaction to him was paramount. Control was the only key to handling a man like Adrian Blackwood.

She repressed the nervous flutter of emptiness that attacked her stomach and commanded herself to relax ... at least externally. Only then did she lift her head-slowly-her eyes dragging up the tall, lean physique of the man-elegantly clothed in a dinner-suit. Her gaze lingered briefly on the darkly tanned throat-she knew now that he would be just as she remembered him-the sharply chiselled chin, the sensual mouth with its knowing little curve, the aristocratic nose. She steeled herself to look once more into those disturbingly magnetic black eyes.

As soon as she did so, she knew it was a mistake. They still had their power to draw and hold her, probing into her soul, raking her heart for desires that had to be sternly repressed.