‘Don’t tell me you’re here to resurrect Gabe and Melvyn’s idea about us working together.’
He shook his head. ‘No, I’m out of the picture on that project; they’re looking for another writer who might tempt you to take up their offer.’
Her agent had told her much the same. ‘I’m sorry if my decision to leave so suddenly made things difficult for you,’ she said.
‘Don’t give it another thought. It was my fault for rubbing you up the wrong way.’
‘So what is your confession?’
‘Well, it’s kinda weird, and you have to promise not to laugh, but I have a thing for English women; it’s the accent. It makes me do crazy and improbable things.’
She worked hard to keep her face from breaking into a smile. ‘Is that so?’ she said. ‘And how many English women have you known who have had this effect on you?’
‘Do you really want to know?’
‘Why else would I have asked?’
‘You might not like the answer.’
‘That’s not a reason to avoid asking the question in the first place.’
‘In that case I have no choice but to risk it. You see, it’s just the one English woman, and the one English accent that drives me nuts. It’s yours.’
Determined to keep her expression as neutral as she could, she said, ‘How interesting. I wonder why that is?’
‘I was hoping you’d put me straight, because I’m damned if I know why. I’m in uncharted territory here; I’m all at sea.’
‘You don’t strike me as a man all at sea,’ she remarked. ‘Far from it.’
‘I hide it well. But then I hide so many things. As you pointed out to me that day when I behaved so badly.’
‘We all hide things,’ she said, thinking of Matteo’s letters.
‘Even you?’
‘Oh yes. I have plenty of things I’d sooner not reveal.’
‘Bad things?’
‘Bad enough.’
For a few minutes neither of them spoke. Romily put down her glass and went to put another log on the fire. After nudging it into place with the poker, and seeing Red’s empty glass on the table next to hers, she offered him a refill.
He shook his head. ‘No thanks. I’ve cut back. I go through phases when I drink far too much.’
‘Is there a reason for that?’ She was surprised at his admission.
‘There’s a reason for everything.’
She sat down again, and once more tucked her legs beneath her.
His arm trailing along the back of the sofa, he said, ‘Can we rewind to that moment when I said you had the most bewitching eyes?’
She turned so that she was facing him square on. ‘Is that because you want to make a seductive move on me?’
‘Would it be wholly unwelcome if I did?’
‘What do you have in mind?’
His hand crept towards her shoulder, and then her neck, releasing a wave of spine-tingling desire within her. ‘I’d like to kiss that delectable mouth of yours,’ he said.
She grimaced. ‘Delectable?’
He smiled. ‘Okay, way too clichéd. How about irresistible?’
‘As bad,’ she said. ‘Definitely as bad.’ Then putting a finger to his lips, she pressed ever so slightly against his teeth. His eyes blazed, and she felt a tremor run through him at her touch. ‘How about you stop talking for two seconds?’ she murmured.
‘Why, what will you—’
She silenced him by removing her finger and kissing him lightly on the mouth. His lips were warm and soft, and tasted of Rémy Martin. She let her lips linger against his, until he tilted his head away from her. For a moment he gazed intently into her eyes, then he kissed her deeply, his hands firmly around her shoulders pulling her closer. Still kissing him, she somehow managed to slip her legs out from under her and he tilted her back so her head was resting on the arm of the sofa, his body on top of hers. It felt good to feel the weight of him against her. His mouth moved slowly from her lips to her throat, and just as he reached the hollow above her collarbone, she let out a gasp of pleasure.
‘Have I found your weak spot, Mrs Devereux-Temple?’ he said, teasingly. Before she could reply, he had kissed her in the same place again and elicited another sigh from her. In turn she slid her hands to his chest and began unbuttoning his shirt. She had three buttons undone when he suddenly raised himself off from her.
‘I think we need to stop,’ he murmured.
His words were like the pricking of a balloon and at once she felt deflated and embarrassed. ‘If you say so,’ she said, not without a tinge of annoyance. Was this some kind of game for him?
‘No,’ he said, ‘you don’t understand. I don’t want this. I mean, not like this.’
Confused, she said, ‘You’re right, I don’t understand.’
‘I don’t want it to be a momentary loss of control. I don’t want you to wake in the morning and think, “What the hell was that all about?” Or worse, think that I took what I could on a spur of the moment thing.’
‘I assure you I can think for myself.’
He sat up. ‘Now you’re cross with me.’
She sat up beside him. ‘Maybe I am. Because I really don’t understand you, Red. Most men would have simply—’
‘That’s just my point,’ he cut in. ‘I don’t want you to think of me in that way. Oh sure, I’ve behaved like that a hundred times. Hell, maybe more! But this time I want it to be different. Is that asking too much?’
His pained expression touched her, and taking hold of his hands, all her annoyance gone, she said, ‘For it to be different, Red, we need to know each other a lot better.’
‘That’s what scares me.’
‘Why?’
‘It would mean I would have to be completely honest with you.’
‘Would that be so awful?’
‘There are things I’ve done that would shock you. Perhaps even make you hate me.’
‘Have you thought that maybe I’ve done things that would shock you?’
He shook his head. ‘I doubt what you’ve done comes close.’
‘Then tell me. Tell me everything. Even if we have to be up all night.’