Читать книгу Millionaire's Woman: The Millionaire's Prospective Wife / The Millionaire's Runaway Bride / The Millionaire's Reward - CATHERINE GEORGE - Страница 9

CORY could have kissed the little barmaid who arrived at the table with their food just after Nick had spoken. In the ensuing activity the moment for her to respond to him came and went, and she made sure she tucked into her meal without further ado. The Sunday roast with all the trimmings was delicious, as was the hazelnut and cherry pie which followed, all washed down with another large glass of wine by Cory and sparkling mineral water for Nick.

Nick’s friend brought their coffee, pulling up a chair from a table which had been vacated when Nick invited him to join them for a glass of wine. ‘Here.’ Nick poured the last of the wine into his empty glass and passed it to John. ‘Cory insists she’s had enough.’

‘Potent stuff, isn’t it?’ John was a slight blond man and he grinned at Cory as he spoke. ‘My favourite ever since Nick introduced me to it years ago. Bit expensive for the pub trade but I always make sure a bottle’s in for when this guy turns up.’ He punched Nick lightly on the shoulder. ‘I can only stay a minute or two, though. Lucinda—the wife,’ he added in an aside to Cory, ‘will be on the warpath if she catches me slacking.’

‘Are you man or mouse?’ Nick put in.

‘Where Lucinda’s concerned? Definitely rodent.’

He was only halfway through the glass and in the middle of relating an incident from their childhood—about the time when he and Nick had been caught scrumping from a farmer’s orchard—when the said Lucinda appeared. Big, buxom and definitely Italian, she bustled over to their table, throwing her arms round Nick and then scolding him for staying away for too long, before she clipped her husband round the ear. ‘You creep out here without telling me and then you drink the last of Nick’s wine,’ she remonstrated in a heavy accent. ‘You are the impossible man. You see what I have to put up with?’ she appealed to Nick. ‘And who is your beautiful lady?’ she added, turning a beaming smile on a bemused Cory.

‘Cory James meet Lucinda Robinson,’ Nick said, laughter in his voice. ‘And her bark’s worse than her bite.’

‘Says who?’ said John, rubbing his ear. ‘She used to do that when she was a little thing the size of Cory but I could keep her in her place then. She packs a fair wallop now.’

‘Oh, you.’ Lucinda planted a smacking kiss on John’s lips, pinching his bottom as she added, ‘I keep you warm at night though, yes?’

‘That you do, wench.’ John smiled at his wife and for a moment the look the two exchanged brought a lump to Cory’s throat. This was love, true love. It was shining out of their faces. For a second she envied the other woman from the bottom of her heart.

After a few more minutes, during which time Lucinda had extracted a promise from Nick that he would attend her thirty-fifth birthday party in the middle of July—Cory having ducked her invitation by saying she would have to check her diary—the two disappeared back into the pub, leaving them alone. They were the last ones in the garden now, apart from a cheeky robin who was busy pecking a morsel of gateau under a nearby table and chasing off a horde of hopeful sparrows when they got too near his plunder.

‘How long have they been married?’ she asked Nick as they finished the last of their now cool coffee.

‘Ten years.’

‘Have they any children?’

He shifted in his seat. ‘Lucinda can’t have any. They tried everything but…’ He shrugged. His eyes lifted to hers as he continued, ‘It was a bad time. She comes from one of those huge Italian families where every daughter pops one out a year. They were living in Italy then but when she had a nervous breakdown John brought her over here for a change of scene for a while. That was five years ago and they haven’t looked back since.’

‘And John doesn’t mind? About not having children?’

Nick looked at her levelly. ‘He minds like hell, but the way he sees it he didn’t fall in love with Lucinda because she was some sort of baby-making machine. He loves her, he always has from the day he first set eyes on her.’

Cory stared at him. She wanted to cry but he would think she was mad. Nevertheless her voice was thick when she said, ‘They’re lucky, the way they feel about each other, I mean.’

‘Yes, they are, but they’re not unique.’ His eyes were holding hers now and although she wanted to break the contact she found she couldn’t. ‘That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it,’ he said softly, and it was a statement not a question. ‘That they’re unique. I could read it in your face.’

She wanted to deny it but he would know she was lying. ‘Not unique,’ she prevaricated. ‘More…unusual.’

‘Why do you think that way?’

It was straight for the jugular but she was recognising he was that sort of man. She couldn’t answer him. She let her hair fall to cover her face. ‘I don’t want to continue this conversation.’

‘OK.’

It was immediate and almost nonchalant and the tone shocked her. Which was ridiculous, she told herself angrily. She hadn’t wanted him to pursue the matter so why should she feel so let down that he didn’t seem to care?

‘Let’s go for a stroll on the Heath to walk the lunch off and get ready for dinner,’ Nick said easily as she raised her head again.

Dinner? Who had said anything about dinner? ‘I don’t think—’

‘Good. Don’t think. I like you better that way.’

‘Now look—’ And then she noticed his smile. Weakly, she said, ‘You’re trying to wind me up.’

‘Me?’ He leant forward as he stood to his feet and kissed her on the top of her nose. ‘As if. Finish your wine while I go and settle with John. We’ll leave the car in the pub car park for now.’

He was gone before she could object.

Cory had wanted to stay remote and detached on the Heath but she found she couldn’t. The beautiful day had brought many Londoners out into the fresh air, the fathomless blue sky above too perfect to waste time indoors.

They walked hand in hand, talking now and again, and unlike in the pub garden she found herself relaxing, waves of contentment flowing over her like a balmy breeze.

‘You’re beginning to burn.’ Nick pulled her into the shade of an old tree, the bottom of its trunk splotched with lichens and velvety moss. The grass was thick and warm as they sat down, and in the distance two young boys were throwing a Frisbee for a shaggy mutt of a dog who was barking enthusiastically as he ran.

Cory turned her head. Nick was stretched out beside her, hands clasped under his head and his eyes shut. He opened one eye. ‘We’ve had the walk, now it’s time for a nap.’

This was far too beguiling. ‘You make us sound like a couple of old-age pensioners,’ she said flatly, aiming to break the mood. ‘And I don’t nap during the day.’

‘Try.’ He reached out one arm and pulled her down beside him, settling her head on his chest. ‘Even a pillow provided,’ he drawled lazily, idly stroking her hair. ‘Now shut your eyes like a good girl.’

She was as tense as piano wire for a few minutes but then, as he made no move to kiss her or do anything except slowly stroke her hair, she found herself relaxing. The heat of the day, the dappled shade through the leaves of the tree, the muted sounds in the background all combined to unknot her nerves and make her drowsy. At the most she had only managed two or three hours’ sleep the night before and the Sunday lunch had left her comfortably full, not to mention the soporific effect of the wine. She slept.

When she next opened her eyes, Nick was looking down at her. He was propped on one elbow and her head was now resting on his middle. ‘Hello,’ he said, very softly.

Still dazed with sleep, she murmured, ‘Hallo yourself.’

When he bent and kissed her it seemed the most natural thing in the world to lift her arms about his neck. She still wasn’t awake enough to fight the realisation that she had been waiting for this moment all day, the moment when he would really kiss her again.

He made no attempt to touch any other part of her body yet every nerve came alive, twanging with sensation as the kiss deepened.

When he drew away he was breathing hard, his voice gruff as he said, ‘Any more and I shall forget where I am, and we don’t want to frighten any little children, do we.’

She smiled as she was meant to, but she couldn’t help wondering if she had imagined the note of what had sounded like surprise in his voice.

He seemed to confirm, it, however, when he said, ‘I’m not sure what you do to me, Cory James, but it could get to be like a drug.’

‘Is that good or bad?’ She heard herself flirt with a little stab of amazement, but it all seemed to be part of the lazy afternoon.

‘Depends.’ One finger traced the outline of her lips.

‘On what?’

‘How often I can get a fix.’

Enough. She sat up, brushing her hair out of her eyes as she said, ‘I told you, I don’t—’

‘Date. Yes, I remember. So when do you see that changing?’

‘What?’

‘You’ll want to settle down one day, surely, so how do you intend to find Mr Right if the opposite sex is out of bounds?’ he asked smoothly.

She found his presumption galling to say the least. ‘Why should I want to settle down? Because I’m a woman?’

He stared at her, the riveting blue of his eyes betraying nothing of what he was thinking. ‘I’ve found most of your sex are inclined towards ultimate monogamy, babies, that kind of thing.’

‘Well, I’m not,’ she said firmly.

‘You don’t want babies one day?’

‘No. Yes. I mean—’ What did she mean? ‘Babies are not part of my plans for the future.’

‘That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?’ he asked mildly.

‘Not if it prevents them just being mere incidentals in someone else’s life.’ She’d spoken too quickly and from the heart without considering her words, and now she could have kicked herself as she watched the piercing gaze narrow.

‘Incidental? Is that how you saw yourself in your parents’ lives?’

Cory made a conscious effort at self-control. She couldn’t believe how they had arrived at talking like this. She had known some of her friends for years and years and they had never remotely touched on such intimate subjects. She had known Nick for a couple of days and here he was giving her the third degree. ‘Let’s change the subject,’ she said stiffly.

‘Let’s not.’ He rose to his feet, pulling her up with him and then keeping her within the circle of his arms when she made to pull free. ‘Cory, most kids grow up knowing they are the most precious things under the sun to their parents,’ he said softly. ‘I’m sorry, heart sorry, if it wasn’t that way for you, but don’t let anyone else’s mistakes push you down a path where you don’t really want to go.’

‘How do you know where I want to go?’ His words had bit into the secret recesses of her heart like acid. ‘You don’t know me. You didn’t know my parents either so don’t make any snap judgements on them or me.’

He was quite still for a moment, then he said, ‘It’d be a crying shame if someone as beautiful and sensitive as you shut herself away from life. Don’t you see that?’

‘Life meaning sex?’ she asked with a baldness that shocked her. ‘And sex meaning your bed, I suppose?’

‘My bed is certainly big enough to accommodate the two of us,’ he said mildly, ‘but I wasn’t necessarily referring to it. I can actually think about something other than sex occasionally.’

‘Then you’re one of the few men who can.’ Again she could have kicked herself, What was she doing? She had to calm down. He was far too perceptive for his own good—or maybe that should be her good. She tried to prise his arms away but they merely tightened.

‘What was his name?’

‘Whose name?’ she hedged, swallowing hard.

‘The guy who let you down. Because you have been let down by someone, haven’t you, Cory? Was it recently?’

Her frozen state resembled a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

‘You can tell me to go to hell,’ he said grimly, ‘but I’d rather hear if it’s really over, at least from your side.’

‘It’s over,’ she said dully.

‘In your heart or in your head?’

He really didn’t seem to know when to stop. The thought brought enough adrenalin for her to break free and take a step backwards, her voice a snap when she said, ‘Both, OK? Both. Is that what you wanted to hear?’

‘Yes, it is.’ And he didn’t sound in the least apologetic about his temerity.

‘His name was William Patterson and he was rich, goodlooking and very sure of himself. He asked me to marry him and then I found him making love to someone else. Is that enough information? Oh, and it was over three years ago now.’ She had put as much sarcasm into her voice as she could to stop it trembling.

He didn’t say anything for what seemed like a very long time to Cory’s overwrought nerves. Then he stuffed his hands into his pockets, his eyes still on her. ‘Her name was Joanna and we were married,’ he said quietly. ‘She was killed instantly when a drunk driver on the wrong side of the road knocked her car straight in front of a lorry on Christmas Eve. She’d popped out to get some bulbs for the lights on the tree so it would be ready when I walked in from work. The drunk driver had bruises, nothing else.’

‘Oh, Nick.’ She was scarcely breathing.

‘It was a long time ago, Cory, thirteen years to be exact. We had only been left university for six months. We were still two kids, playing at being married but enjoying every moment. I was twenty-two but I grew up very quickly that night. After that…’ He shrugged. ‘I threw myself into work and the next year started my own business. It was good to have something to drive at.’

‘And you’ve never…I mean, there hasn’t been anyone else you’ve wanted to—’ She stopped abruptly, aware she was putting it badly.

‘I’ve had relationships since Joanna,’ he said, ‘one or two of them long-term. If you’re asking me if I was ever tempted to get married again, then the answer’s no.’

Cory nodded. She didn’t know what to say. She’d had him down as a love ’em and leave ’em type—which he might be now—but she had to admit she hadn’t thought about what might have made him that way. ‘It must have been very hard for you,’ she said at last.

‘For a while.’ He shrugged. ‘But it seems like another lifetime now. The boy Joanna knew was very different to the man I’ve become, I guess. Who knows whether we would still even be together if she had lived? We were very young, that’s for sure. And typical students. We married in a registry office one wet Saturday afternoon; she wore a long skirt and a jumper with bells round the bottom and I wore jeans and a scruffy T-shirt.’

‘Bohemians.’

‘Something like that.’ He smiled at her, reaching out and taking her hand, and she let him pull her into his side as they began walking again.

Even as she was making all the right noises, Cory found her mind was working on a different plane altogether as they strolled back to the pub. Nick Morgan was inveigling himself into her life somehow, and it frightened her. She was sure he hadn’t made up the story about his young wife, but had he told her about Joanna hoping it would soften her attitude to him? William had been full of little tricks like that. In fact, once their relationship was over she’d realised William had played her like a master virtuoso. She frowned to herself.

‘You’re thinking again.’ The deep voice was amused.

‘What?’ She wiped her face clear of expression as she glanced up at him.

‘I’d bet a pound to a penny I was featuring in your thoughts and not favourably,’ he drawled. ‘Right?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She could feel her cheeks burning.

‘Something along the lines of wondering if I’d spun you a yarn, yes?’

‘No.’ Her voice carried a note of indignation that couldn’t be misconstrued. ‘Of course I believe what you told me. I know you wouldn’t make something like that up.’ Even as she spoke Cory wondered how she knew. But know she did. She decided to look at that one later.

‘Then you’re wondering why I told you,’ he persisted doggedly.

Wretched man. She turned her head, pretending an interest in two screaming toddlers whose harassed mother was trying to persuade them back into a double buggy. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Little liar.’ It was soft, indulgent, and took the sting out of the words.

Cory decided she could do some plain speaking herself. She stopped, looking up into the clear blue eyes as she said, ‘OK then, why did you tell me?’

‘I don’t know.’ He didn’t blink, his face oddly vulnerable. Cory didn’t like what it did to her treacherous heart. Then, with a wry smile, he said, ‘It’s not something I usually drop into the conversation on the second date. In fact it’s not something I usually talk about at all.’

How could someone who was so big and male and dangerous look so boyish for a moment? She told herself she’d had enough of aching heartstrings for one afternoon and answered his smile with one of her own, saying lightly, ‘Looks like we’re both in the dark then. And we’re not dating, remember? This is my penance.’

He chuckled and her heart thudded with pleasure that she could make him laugh, even as a hundred alarm bells went off in her head. He was the most exciting man she had ever met, she’d known that yesterday, but today she’d realised there was much more to Nick than met the eye. He probably had a lighthearted little romance in mind, a few romps in bed until the next woman came along, a woman more suited to his complex and captivating personality. But she wasn’t like that.

They walked on, the warm evening air redolent of woodsmoke from a distant bonfire somewhere, but Cory’s mind was racing.

How did you tell an experienced man of the world like Nick Morgan, a man who by his own admission had had more than one woman in his bed in his time—lots more—that you had never actually…

She groaned inwardly. He would laugh at her and somehow—somehow she couldn’t bear the thought of that.

Of course she had had her moments in the days before she had tangled with William. Her friends at university had been popping in and out of bed with the current boyfriend as though it was as simple and easy as having a cup of tea. They had said she was too intense, that she was making too big a deal out of what was the most natural thing in the world, but something had always stopped her from making total bodily commitment with the lads she had gone out with.

She supposed she’d been waiting for the Mr Right Nick had spoken of earlier. Her lip curled at her naïvety. Even though she’d always doubted anyone would feel that way about her in her heart.

They reached the pub within a few minutes and after saying their goodbyes to Lucinda and John walked to the car. As they drove back along the route they had travelled earlier, Cory said tentatively, ‘I brought some work home I really ought to look at before tomorrow. If you wouldn’t mind dropping me back at the flat now, please.’

‘I do mind.’ He spared her one piercing glance before going on, ‘We’re doing dinner, Cory. Relax and you might even enjoy it.’

She wriggled in her seat. ‘Where are we going?’

‘A nice little place I know.’

‘You know so many nice little places,’ she said with a touch of acidity.

He chose to ignore it. ‘That’s true, but this one is special. Trust me.’

That would be a grave mistake.

Her face must have spoken for itself because she became aware of him laughing softly, and when she looked at him his eyes were brilliant with sparks of humour. ‘You’re priceless,’ he murmured. ‘Do you know that? And so good for keeping my ego on the ground.’

‘I don’t think I’ll feel sorry for your ego,’ she said, thinking of all the other women he had said he’d known and feeling ridiculously jealous. Which just showed how crazy she was and how this had to be the end of things.

The light banter continued as they drove on, but when they drew up in one of the streets close to Richmond Park Cory stared about her. ‘This isn’t a restaurant,’ she said accusingly.

‘Who said anything about a restaurant?’ Twilight was beginning to fall as he slid out of the car, walking round the sleek low bonnet and opening her door for her.

Cory remained sitting. She raised her eyebrows at him and he stared innocently back. ‘So?’ she said meaningfully. ‘Where are we?’

‘Outside my London flat.’

She’d already arrived at that conclusion herself but had been determined to make him spell it out. She opened her mouth to tell him to take her home but he forestalled her.

‘Before you say anything, it’s only dinner that’s on the cards, by the way. I know you’d like to get your hands on my body but you’ll just have to restrain yourself.’

Cory glared at him. ‘This isn’t funny, Nick.’

He crouched down so that his head was on a level with hers. She tried hard to ignore the way his trousers strained over muscled thighs but it was difficult. ‘Only dinner, Cory,’ he repeated softly. ‘I thought it would be nice to eat in, that’s all. That way I can enjoy a bottle of wine with you and call a taxi to take you home.’

‘You can cook?’ she asked doubtfully.

‘My dumplings have been known to make women swoon.’

She giggled, she couldn’t help it. ‘Really, can you cook?’ she persisted.

He smiled. ‘Tonight we’re starting with spiced chicken salad with papaya and avocado. I cheated and got that ready before I left this morning. The main course for madam is pork and ginger stir-fry with noodles and prawn crackers. And for dessert…’

‘What’s for dessert?’ Her mouth was watering.

‘That’ll be a surprise.’ He stood up again, holding out his hand which she took a little reluctantly, still unsure of what she was doing.

Once she was standing on the pavement she eyed him warily. He was certainly full of surprises, and she didn’t mean the dessert! Who on earth would have guessed he could cook? He was too…male. And then she couldn’t believe she’d been so sexist.

‘Come on.’ He led her over to the large terraced house in front of them. As soon as he opened the front door Cory knew his flat was going to be sumptuous by the splendour of the marbled lobby complete with lift.

Nick’s flat was at the top of the house and, when he stood aside for her to enter after opening the front door, Cory looked about her interestedly. She saw immediately that she had been right. It was sumptuous, but not over-poweringly so. It was also severely male, no frills or fancies littering the contemporary feel of the flat.

The lounge area which opened from the front door had pale cream walls and an oatmeal carpet, the huge sensation of space enhanced by the absence of doors between it and the dining room. The designer had left the chimney breast only as a natural division, and Cory could see by the charred logs in the grate that this was a real fire.

Three black leather two-seater sofas and several black lacquer oval occasional tables dotted the lounge, and in the dining room the monochrome effect continued with a black dining table and chairs.

Several striking pieces of sculpture and bark wall hangings and a row of steel-framed mirrors added to the air of uncompromising stark beauty. There were no plants, no ornaments, no vases of flowers or photographs on view, nothing to give any idea of the personality of the man who owned the place.

Cory turned to look at Nick, who was watching her intently. ‘Is your house in Barnstaple like this?’

The hard face relaxed into a smile. ‘No,’ he admitted softly, ‘but that’s home. This is part of my work. It’s where I bring colleagues, clients, people I want to impress.’

Cory nodded. She knew his international electronics firm was huge and still growing. He was a very successful and intelligent man and she supposed this flat reflected this. She wouldn’t want to live in it though.

‘Come through to the kitchen,’ Nick said, the twist to his lips suggesting he had read her mind again. ‘It’s where I spend most of my time when I’m here, that and the bedroom. I tend to get in late and leave early unless I’m entertaining.’

The kitchen was a smart combination of brushed stainless steel and solid wedge wood, and the impression of space and light was continued here by the ceiling having been removed, revealing the timbers of the original structure which were painted white. A large corner breakfast bar which was really a small table had two high stainless steel chairs with coffee-coloured upholstered seats tucked beneath it and, after pulling one out, Nick said, ‘Sit down while I see about dinner. I’ll open a bottle of wine. A nice Chardonnay, I think, to go with the salad and then the stirfry.’

She had half been expecting that he would give her a tour of all of the flat, including his bedroom, and now as she sat on the chair she had to confess to a slight feeling of disappointment. She would have liked to see where he slept, to be able to picture him there at night. Dangerous. The word reverberated in her head as loudly as if someone had screamed it in her ear. She didn’t need to picture him anywhere; he had no part in her life. This was one weekend out of the norm and it would remain like that. A pleasant but acutely disturbing episode that would soon fade from her memory if she put her mind to it.

Oh, yeah? challenged a little voice in her head. And pigs might fly.

The Chardonnay was as delicious in its own way as the Brunello at lunch. Cory didn’t know much about different wines but it was obvious Nick did. All part of the image, she told herself, before feeling a little ashamed of the cattiness which had prompted the thought.

‘Can I help?’ she asked as she sat watching him deftly cut the pork loin into thin strips before covering it and putting it with the other ingredients he’d pulled out of the fridge, already prepared for cooking—a man who thought of everything.

He took a swallow of his wine before saying, ‘You could set two places in the dining room if you like.’

‘We’re not eating in here?’ The dining room table was enormous for two, besides which the informality of the kitchen was less conducive to a romantic teête-à-teête, surrounded as they were by gleaming pans and kitchen utensils.

‘Is that what you’d prefer?’ And, as she nodded, he said, ‘So be it. Cutlery and everything else you’ll need is in the cupboard to your left.’

They ate the first course almost immediately and it was truly delicious. Nick seemed determined to be the perfect host, making her laugh with one amusing story after another and displaying none of the intuitive and disconcerting probing which had so bothered her during the afternoon.

He wouldn’t let her help with the main course, so Cory sat sipping her wine as she watched him cook the pork strips until they were brown all over, at which point he added the garlic, ginger, spring onions, pineapple chunks and other ingredients.

He was perfectly relaxed and at ease in the kitchen, adding the oyster sauce to the stir-fry with one hand and dealing with the noodles and prawn crackers with the other, whilst talking of inconsequential things. Cory could only marvel at him. She wasn’t too bad a cook when she put her mind to it, but she didn’t particularly like an audience and certainly couldn’t have coped with Nick watching her.

Cory ate the ginger and pork stir-fry in a delicious haze of well-being, only protesting very slightly when Nick refilled her empty glass. ‘This food is so good,’ she said, wrapping a noodle round her fork and transferring it to her mouth. ‘I can’t make my meals taste like this.’

He smiled lazily. ‘The secret is in using fresh ingredients, like the root ginger and garlic. I never buy my herbs and spices in packets.’

Cory gave a hiccup of a laugh and then put down her glass of wine which she had just picked up. She suddenly realised she’d had quite enough. It was deceptively potent stuff.

‘What’s funny?’ he asked softly.

She tried very hard to pull herself together. ‘Just that I never imagined we’d be discussing the pros and cons of herbs and spices,’ she said in a voice which was shaky with the amusement she was trying to quell. ‘You didn’t strike me as that sort of man when I met you, that’s all.’

‘What sort of man did you think I was then?’ he asked lightly.

Cory considered her answer, forgetting she wasn’t going to drink any more wine and taking several sips as she surveyed him through dreamy eyes. ‘A he-man type,’ she stated.

‘And they don’t cook?’

‘I don’t know.’ Wrapped in contentment and lulled into a false sense of security she forgot to be careful. ‘They might do. You do, so other men might, I suppose.’

‘What about William?’ Nick asked softly. ‘Didn’t he spoil you by at least cooking breakfast now and again?’

‘I never had breakfast with William. I’ve never had breakfast with anyone.’ She finished the last of the wine, holding out her glass for a refill as she spoke out the thought in her head without thinking about what she was revealing. ‘I suppose you have to sleep with someone to wake up to breakfast with them.’

There was the merest of pauses before Nick said, ‘It helps.’

There was a quality to his voice which brought Cory back to earth more effectively than a bucketful of cold water.

Much later she realised that at that point she could still have saved the situation if she hadn’t lost her head. She could have made some light innuendo which suggested that bed wasn’t the only place people made love or deflected the assumption she had heard in his voice in some other way. Then maybe—maybe—she might have fooled him.

As it was, she stared at him with wide horrified eyes, the effects of the wine completely burnt up in the mortification she was feeling. She set the wineglass down on the table. ‘Not that I haven’t had lots of offers though,’ she blurted out before realising that made everything ten times worse.

Jumping to her feet she took the coward’s way out. ‘Can I use the bathroom?’

‘Sure.’ Nick was magnificently unconcerned but it didn’t help. ‘First door on your right outside the kitchen.’

Cory fled.

She stood in the bathroom for a good few seconds feeling utterly wretched before her surroundings registered through the maelstrom. Then she glanced about her in awe. The white tiled walls and floor were offset with midnight-blue granite surfaces and illuminated recesses which stored white bath-linen and toiletries, and the massive raised bath, shower cubicle, pedestal basin, toilet and bidet were white with elegant silver fittings. Two exquisitely worked granite sculptures of storks stood either side of the shower cubicle, a mosaic of white and blue taking up almost one wall over the bath.

The stark use of white and blue, the voyeuristic ceiling which consisted totally of glass and the carefully positioned lighting made this a bathroom where modesty would go out of the window. Cory walked gingerly across to the basin, fiddling about for a few moments before she realised it had a thermostat mixer and sensor which was activated when the occupant held their hands beneath it.

But of course it would, she told herself cantankerously. What else? She wouldn’t be surprised if you only had to wish for the bath to fill up and it happened.

She glanced up at the ceiling again when she had dried her hands on the big fluffy towel and then her eyes moved to the huge bath which would easily take two people, if not a whole rugby team. This room had been designed for other activities than merely getting clean. She put her hands to her hot cheeks. Which made what she’d revealed to Nick doubly humiliating. He wouldn’t have any concept of how she felt.

She stayed in the bathroom for as long as she dared but eventually she squared her shoulders and lifted her head. She would have to go and face him and get it over with. She breathed very deeply. But definitely no more wine. No more wine, no more leading conversations, no more of anything!

He was sitting where she’d left him, but now their plates had been cleared away and dessert dishes and spoons were on the table. ‘Hi.’ His smile was easy and unhurried as she joined him. ‘Vanilla parfait with chocolate rum truffle or apricot whisky mousse?’

Cory forgot to be embarrassed as she stared at the two rich concoctions in front of her. ‘You made these?’ she asked in amazement.

‘Almost.’ His eyes drifted over her face. ‘But my local gourmet store helped a little.’

Her smiled was strained. She didn’t want to eat dessert with him in this gleaming super-technological kitchen. She wanted to go home and lick her wounds.

As soon as she had finished her portion of vanilla parfait with chocolate rum truffle, Cory slipped off her seat. ‘I must go home and do that work,’ she said quietly. ‘Thanks for a lovely day. I’ll hail a cab from the end of the street.’

‘Don’t be silly, I’m coming with you.’

‘There’s no need.’

He inhaled deeply and audibly, and let his breath out. ‘I’m coming with you,’ he repeated steadily, rising to his feet.

His tone was exactly what one would use with a difficult and annoying child, and it caught her on the raw. She stared at him and piercingly intent blue eyes stared back. He seemed very big and very dark and Cory couldn’t help looking at his mouth as he stopped speaking. It was a sexy, cynical and purposeful mouth. She swallowed. ‘As you like,’ she said casually, shrugging as she turned away.

The next moment she was turned around again by a firm hand on her shoulder. ‘I do like,’ he said with silky control. He put his mouth to hers, stroking her sealed lips as one hand held her in the small of her back and the other brushed her hair away from her face.

When her lips opened slightly beneath his he plunged immediately into the undefended territory, his hand leaving her face to thread deftly into her hair, supporting her head. The kiss deepened with a sensuality that started her senses reeling.

‘You’re delicious, you know that, don’t you,’ he murmured, a sound—almost like a groan—coming from deep in his throat. ‘Specially tasting of rum truffle.’

The hand that had been tangled in her hair had shifted to fit her face into the curve of his neck and now he stood cradling her close, so close she could feel every inch of his arousal. Cory stood absolutely still. She was having trouble with her breathing and her heart was pounding. The overpowering passion which ignited every time this man touched her had taken her unawares again, and now all her doubts and fears came back in a rush to reproach her.

Act nonchalant, she told herself silently. Finish this with a modicum of self-respect. If nothing else, let him remember you as the one who got away.

She straightened, pulling away and smoothing her hair with a light laugh before she said, ‘Red wine, white wine and now rum truffle. You’re a bad influence.’

‘I hope so.’ The unreserved warmth in his eyes brought colour into her cheeks, especially as the feel of his body was still imprinted against her. ‘But we’ve a long way to go yet.’

Cory looked at him guardedly but made no reply. The only place she was going was home, and then from this night on she’d make sure she refused any invitations from Nick Morgan. If he asked her to see him again, that was. She ignored the chasm that her stomach had fallen into at the thought of never seeing him again, and said brightly, ‘Shall we find a taxi now?’

‘Let’s.’ It was dry.

They didn’t say much on the way to Cory’s flat, but the air in the back of the taxi was electric with tension. At least, Cory felt so. Nick, on the other hand, sat with his arm round her, the hand resting on her shoulder playing idly with a lock of her hair and his legs stretched out lazily in front of him.

His kisses didn’t mean anything. The refrain went over and over in her head as she tried to convince herself. Not a thing. To a man like Nick, kissing a woman was little more than a social habit.

Why had he stopped kissing her? The thought which had assailed her as they had left his flat kept jabbing at her. Because it hadn’t been her who had stopped initially. It should have been, she acknowledged miserably, but it hadn’t. Was it because of what she’d unwittingly revealed? Had it put him off? Did he feel he couldn’t be bothered with someone as inexperienced as her? Or perhaps, like her friends at university, he thought she was too intense, too emotional—slightly…odd?

She continued to go round and round in circles until the car drew up outside the house and then, to her surprise, she had a feeling of very real panic at the thought of not seeing him again. Which was ridiculous, utterly and absolutely. Nevertheless it was there.

‘I’ll see you to your door,’ Nick said, and this time she didn’t object. He told the taxi driver to wait and then escorted her across the pavement, following her inside the house after she had opened the front door.

When they were finally standing outside her own door, she looked up at him. How had he managed to become such a part of her life in two days? It was scary. So, so scary.

‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he said roughly.

‘Like what?’ she asked, genuinely hurt by the thread of anger.

‘Like you expect me to treat you badly, manhandle you, hurt you.’

She supposed she did expect him to hurt her if she got involved with him, but not in the physical sense he was talking about.

‘Hell, Cory.’ He was suddenly furious and it showed. ‘Give me a break, won’t you. I don’t know how this William guy behaved but I’m not him. OK? It might be stating the obvious but I need to say it.’

‘I know you’re not him,’ she said shakily.

‘Do you? I don’t think you do, not yet.’ And then he echoed her earlier thought when he said, ‘It’s been two days and yet it feels like much, much longer. Do you feel that?’

She wanted to make some clever, witty comment and then send him on his way, or even just shake her head. She nodded instead.

‘Do you see the age gap as a problem?’

‘What?’ It had been the last thing she’d expected him to say.

‘I’m ten years older than you. Does that bother you?’ he asked softly.

She didn’t know what to say. Something was happening here and she seemed to have no control over it. She shook her head because she couldn’t have spoken to save her life.

‘You’re going to tell me we inhabit different worlds, aren’t you?’ he went on.

She hadn’t been but now he’d mentioned it it was absolutely true.

‘And you’re right,’ he said quietly. ‘For the last thirteen years I’ve worked like a dog and loved every minute, and any woman I’ve got involved with has known the score. At first I was so cut up about Joanna it was easier to keep relationships from developing into anything but physical ones. There are plenty of career women out there who aren’t looking to settle down until way on in their timescale of things, and they suited me as I did them. Fun, friendship, someone warm in bed but no emotional commitment. Then, as time went on, I found I was becoming autonomous because I liked it that way, not because of any lingering loyalty to Joanna. The freedom of being self-determining and independent was heady.’

She stared at him, her eyes wide. Was he being brutally honest at last? Was he going to say that any relationship with him would be purely physical and only last as long as he wanted it to? His other women had obviously been happy with that.

And then he disabused her of that idea. ‘You might be a career woman but you aren’t like them, are you.’ It was a statement, not a question. ‘You think differently.’

This was all because of what she had inadvertently told him before dessert. That she was a virgin. A twenty-five-year-old virgin. Was this his way of telling her he wasn’t going to see her again because she wasn’t like the other women, wasn’t what he wanted?

Her chin rose a notch. ‘Nick,’ she began, but he put a finger to her lips.

‘We come from different ends of the pole, Cory, but you know as well as I do that there’s a spark there. It’s there when I touch you and it’s there when I don’t. And I like that. It makes me feel alive,’ he added wryly. ‘I didn’t realise till I met you that I was growing stale. So, how about we see each other once in a while, take it nice and easy and see how things go? Sure there’ll be hurdles, but we’ll take them one at a time and see what happens. What do you say?’

Every single brain cell was telling her to say no. It was the sensible, the safe thing to do. She had been this way once before with William and it had ended in disaster. This would too. She knew it at heart. Nick would grow bored with her; it was inevitable with a man like him. No was the only answer to give.

But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t tell him to walk away from her. Not yet.

Cory was unaware of the play of emotions across her face, but when he pulled her to him she realised he’d guessed something of what she was feeling. ‘So, do we start doing the dreaded ‘‘d’’ word?’ he asked drily.

She looked into the blue eyes. From somewhere she found the strength to be as cool and laid-back as him. ‘I guess we’d better give it a shot for a while,’ she said airily. ‘If only to stop you growing stale.’