But their night together was over.
It was Saturday morning and their relationship had to go back to normal. Normal? How normal was it that every time he looked at her now he would recall the softness of her mouth under his, the stroke of her hands, the warm, velvet grip of her body? He shuddered and groaned as desire swept through him like a tide, heating and hardening his flesh to the point of pain.
He went for a long run along the country lanes, trying to summon his self-control. Maybe he should tweak the rules. Maybe she needed more than one night to gain even more confidence. She’d told him how her parents’ break-up had contributed to her uneasiness with intimacy, and it had made him realise even more how stressful and difficult her adolescence had been. Hadn’t he carried his own hang-ups from his childhood?
You’re rationalising—you just want to continue your fling with her.
Louis knew the danger of extending their fling. It was one of the reasons he’d been reluctant to start it in the first place. Ivy wasn’t like the other women he dated—not because they hadn’t been nice women, with lots to offer. But he could always switch off his feelings when he had casual dates. He was a master at it. But with Ivy those unwanted feelings had a habit of slipping under his guard, making him hunger for things he had so long suppressed or told himself he didn’t really want.
And then there was the other complication of his friendship with her brother. Ronan would never forgive him for hurting Ivy. And how could he avoid hurting her if he continued to sleep with her without offering her the whole package she yearned for—marriage, babies and forever love? A package he had no intention of offering to anyone. Ever.
Louis came back from his run and showered and dressed before going to Ivy’s room. The door of her room was closed, so he gave it a gentle tap.
‘Ivy? Are you up? Time for breakfast before we head back to London.’
There was no answer, so he opened the door and went in. The bed had been stripped and the duvet neatly folded back to wait for fresh sheets to be placed on later. It took him a moment to register what he was seeing—or not seeing. There was no trace of Ivy in the room. Her luggage was gone and when he checked the en suite no trace of her toiletries remained. All that was left was the faint trace of her perfume lingering in the air.
There was something strangely mocking about that bare and empty bed. He was the one who normally left before his casual dates woke on the rare occasions he spent the whole night with anyone. He assiduously avoided the morning-after scenes where a date would drop hints about wanting to see him again. Why had Ivy left? How had she left?
And then he saw the note propped next to the bedside lamp. He walked across the room and snatched it up, unfolding the rectangle of paper to read:
Thanks for last night. I didn’t want to wake you, so caught a cab back home. I have to get ready for Paris next week.
Your friend, Ivy
He stared at the word ‘friend’ for so long, he became cross-eyed. He sucked in a harsh breath, scrunched the note into a ball and tossed it on the bed. The bed where he had made love to her last night. Not simply had hook-up sex, but actually made love. Her first time had been his first time feeling more than needing an itch to be scratched. His first time feeling more than lust, feeling something far more complicated.
Why had she left without seeing him face to face? Was she feeling uncomfortable? Embarrassed? Regretful? He took out his phone and called her number, but it went through to voice mail.
‘Call me.’ He spoke more curtly than he’d intended, annoyed with himself for not anticipating her leaving. He was rarely blindsided by people these days. He never got close enough to anyone for them to surprise him. It didn’t sit well with him to be the one left behind, staring at the empty bed where he’d had the best sex of his life.
One night not enough for you, huh? His conscience jeered from the sidelines.
Louis ground his teeth so hard, he thought he’d be taking his meals through a straw for the next month.
No, one night wasn’t enough—so he was going to do something about it.
Ivy was tidying up the back office of the antiques store for her elderly boss, Mr Thornley, when she heard a customer come into the shop. She glanced at the CCTV monitor on the desk and her heart missed a beat—and then raced, as if it needed an emergency dose of beta blockers. Louis had only once before come in to the shop and her heart hadn’t threatened to go into overdrive then. But that had been before she had slept with him, experienced for one night the phenomenal magic of being in his arms.
She wiped her suddenly damp palms on the front of her skirt and went out to greet him, painting a smile on her face. ‘Hiya, Louis.’
She was proud of how normal she sounded. Who said she couldn’t switch back to being friends with him without a stumble? Even if every cell of her body was acutely aware of him and longed to feel his arms go around her to hold her close.
His grey-blue eyes ran over her skirt and blouse and she wondered if he was recalling every inch of her naked flesh and how it had felt against his own. His mouth was set in a firm line and there was a muscle twitching in his jaw. ‘Why did you leave without saying goodbye on Saturday, or calling me as I asked?’ His tone was as curt as the short message he had left on her voice mail the other day. A message she had chosen not to obey.
Ivy raised her chin, sending him a tiny flash of her gaze. ‘You didn’t ask—you demanded.’
His eyes warred with hers for a long moment. Then his tense features softened a fraction and his voice lowered to a rich, deep burr. ‘I was worried about you. I thought you might be feeling some regret about our night together.’
Ivy schooled her features into ‘Ms Modern Hook-Up’ mode. ‘Why should I be feeling regret? We spent the night together as agreed. It went well and I went home. End of.’
A frown pulled at his brow and his mouth flattened once more. ‘But why not wait until I drove you back?’
She turned to straighten some papers on the cluttered desk. ‘I thought it was better to go before you talked me into staying the whole weekend with you.’
There was a silence so intense, the soft ticking of the French carriage clock on the desk sounded like hammer blows.
Louis gave an incredulous laugh. ‘You thought I was going to ask you for an extension?’
Ivy turned back to face him, her look pointed. ‘Weren’t you?’
A shutter came down at the back of his gaze, screening his thoughts, hiding his feelings, locking her out. ‘I only do one-night stands, remember?’
Ivy folded her arms across her body and lifted her right hand to her mouth, tapping against her lips as if studying a particularly interesting artefact. ‘Then why are you here now? It’s too late for lunch or even coffee. Besides, I’m flying to Paris early tomorrow, so—’