Double trouble by Barbara Boswell Page A

not excitement and certainly not desire.
    "As a matter of fact, I do mind," she said, her frozen tones belying the heat blazing inside her. She kept her head high and straight, refusing to turn and look at him.
    ''Too bad." Matt pulled out the chair opposite hers and sat down. He was grim and unsmiling, and an unnerving determination glittered in his dark blue eyes.
    The table was tiny and the length of Matt's legs caused an unavoidable collision of his limbs with Kayla's. Kayla drew back as if she'd been scalded. She stood up so fast she nearly upset the table. ''Since you seemed to have claimed this table, you can have it all to yourself."
    She raced off, threading her way through the crowd, toward the neon-lit exit sign. Within moments she was standing outside on a wooden deck that jutted over the rocky shore, overlooking the boats docked beyond. Groaning, she realized that this was not where she and Kristina had come in. To reach the front entrance, she would have to traipse back through the club, where Matt Minteer sat at the table he had commandeered. Where he would be watching and waiting for her?

    Her heart jumped, as she headed bhndly across the deck, to clutch the thick wooden raihng that surrounded it. She had to calm down, she admonished herself. A few more minutes out in the cool night air, a few deep breaths, and she would be in control of herself and up to the daunting challenge of getting out of this place.
    Kayla heard the footsteps behind her with a nerve-tingling sense of inevitabihty. She whirled around to see Matt walking steadily, inexorably toward her. Her breath caught in her throat. She felt perilously rooted to the spot. Fingers trembling, she drew her thick boxy-knit sweater more closely around her.
    '*Are you cold?" Matt asked, misinterpreting her nervous little gesture. The deck was dimly lit, but he had no difficulty focusing on her figure, which was somehow both concealed and enhanced by the long shrimp-colored sweater that skimmed to her mid-thighs and the tight charcoal gray leggings that clung to her shapely legs.
    '*No." Her back was pressed against the wooden railing, and her eyes darted frantically, assessing her avenues of escape.
    But it was too late for that now. Before she could think, move, or even breathe. Matt was directly in front of her, as close as he could possibly be without their bodies touching. He needed only to lean forward an inch or two to close the gap between them. "Don't even think of trying to run," he said tautly. ''You're not going anywhere until we've—"
    ''You can't threaten me," Kayla snapped with far more bravado than she was feeUng. She forced herself to look up at him, to meet his gaze squarely.
    Matt stared at her. God, she was a knockout, he reluctantly admitted to himself, even more so than he'd remembered. She was conventionally pretty, true, but she had something else, some intangible charm, some irresistible appeal for him, that evoked feelings in him no one else ever had. It was exhilarating. More than that, it was downright

    alarming. How could one woman have such power over him?
    ''And don't think you can scare me with that menacing glare of yours," Kay la piped up. The intensity in his eyes disturbed her, but it didn't scare her. The fact that it didn't—that it drew her, excited her—did. She didn't want anyone to have such a command over her emotions.
    "Scare you, threaten you. You have some opinion of me." Matt laughed mirthlessly. ''I haven't meant to do either. I just want to talk to you and you make it damn difficult with your penchant for taking off. Is running away your usual style or am I the only one to inspire you to it?"
    Kayla was instantly on the defensive. ''I wasn't running away from you. I—needed some air and I came outside to get it."
    He raised his brows. ''And now?"
    "Now that I've had some air, I'm going back inside. It has nothing to do v/ithyou/'
    "Uh-huh. And what about last week? Saturday morning, to be specific. You