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‘Sorry if it’s out of your way,’ she said stiffly as they entered the stream of bumper-to-bumper cars that he had explained away by sayingthe bridge was closed. He didn’t appear to notice that she was being frosty so it seemed a wasted effort to be aloof.
She didn’t ask what bridge. She found sharing the enclosed space with this man—the kiss still fresh in her mind—as mentally uncomfortable as the seat was physically comfortable. It didn’t come as a shock. She had expected it. It was as if his personality was too big to fit in the small space, and she was coping, almost convincing herself that she was fine with it by the time they arrived outside her building.
She closed her eyes as he backed the long gleaming car, too quickly for comfort, into an impossibly narrow space in front of the purpose-built and boring beige-brick three-storey building.
‘I won’t be long,’ she promised.
He watched her struggle with the belt for a moment then leaned in and pressed a button. For a few seconds his arm confined her to her seat, not that she could have moved. He pulled away a little but before she could breathe a sigh of relief he turned his head. He was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek and see the individual lines fanning out from the corners of his deep-set eyes. His eyes, which had been drifting across her own face, found and lingered on her mouth.
Her eyelids drifted half closed, her breath when it came was a weak breathy flutter that left her oxygen-deprived lungs hungry. Hunger was what she thought she glimpsed in his dark-sky eyes before his lashes came down and he leaned back in his own seat, pressing his head into the head rest for a moment before he turned.
‘Do I not get an invite in?’ He could not pass up an opportunity to see where she lived. Marco would expect no less.
There was something else besides the mockery in his voice that she chose not to investigate, instead she funnelled all her energy into forgetting that torrid moment that was probably not torrid at all. After all, he could make scratching his nose look sexy. There was no one around to witness a kiss so no reason to kiss her.
‘No, I’ll be quicker without an audience.’
He shrugged. ‘We’ve got time.’
She gave a snort of disbelief. He’d changed his tune. ‘Since when?’
‘I’ve yet to meet a woman who can pack quickly.’
Her feet on the pavement after a very neat swivel, she turned back. ‘You have—me,’ she said with the utmost confidence.
She clenched her teeth as she heard his soft steps behind her, annoyed but not surprised. She could have asked him what part of no did he not understand but it would have been a total waste of breath.
‘I don’t need help or a stalker.’ She pushed her way through the swing door into the communal lobby, adding, ‘The lift doesn’t work.’ Without looking at him, she began to skip up the stairs.
Her obvious reluctance to allow him to see where she lived had sparked his interest. Was there something she was hiding?
A secret lover?
The thought left a sour taste, but she had left a sweet taste—
He pushed the hot memory away, but not soon enough to prevent the lick of heat that streaked down his front, pooling in his groin, which made it hard to tell himself how uninterested he was in how many lovers she had, secret or otherwise. He was not here to judge, he was here to observe and present facts to Marco, who could make his own judgment.
Rose was breathing hard by the time they reached her front door. He, of course, wasn’t. Her hand shook slightly as she put the key in the lock. ‘You can wait here,’ she mumbled as the door swung in.
‘Sorry, what was that?’
She turned around, exasperated, as he stepped in behind her, but the exasperation lurched towards panic. He was standing close... Her heart picked up pace as her head tilted back. She tucked a curl behind one ear and took a carefully casual step back.
‘How many bedrooms do you have?’
‘This is the bedroom, and living room, and kitchen,’ she said defensively.
‘There is no bed.’
She felt the blush run under her skin and walked across to her wardrobe. She was fine with her virgin status but she didn’t want to advertise the fact by blushing when a man said bed.
All right, maybe she wasn’tthatfine. Her inexperience had become something of an encumbrance. When was the right time to own up to your inexperience? Hopefully she’d recognise the moment when it came.
Of course, she needed a potential lover first, but she could wait. The sort of real deep relationship she wanted didn’t happen overnight.
‘There is a bed,’ she said, pretending calm. ‘It pulls down from the wall. I just shift the table. Look,’ she added crankily, ‘do you want a lesson in how the other half lives or shall I pack?’
‘It’s very...neat.’ It was the only positive thing he could think to say about the box-like space and he was not sure what the white walls and pale furniture said about her. All her personal effects seemed to be stowed out of sight, except the books that overflowed off some built-in shelves. He wasn’t sure how interested or useful Marco might find the fact she had a weakness for thrillers and cookbooks.
