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A choking sound emerged from Natalie’s throat. As hard as she tried to avoid looking at Rafe, like a compass needle finding north her eyes seemed irresistibly drawn to his.
‘Men are handsome, Rose, ladies are beautiful.’
Rose shook her head. ‘No,’ she persisted stubbornly, ‘Rafe is beautiful.’
Natalie could only agree with her daughter’s assessment of the man whose startling blue gaze was melded with her own. Her voice thickened emotionally. ‘Extremely beautiful,’ she agreed huskily.
‘Well, I think it’s time that we were going,’ Mike interrupted stiffly.
It was difficult to persuade Rose it was time to go, but eventually the time Natalie had been dreading arrived—she and Rafe were alone. There seemed no point delaying the inevitable; she took a deep breath and got straight to the point.
She shot a wary glance at the tall figure who was examining the books in her bookcase. He didn’t look, but it was reasonable to suppose, despite his performance, that he wasn’t too happy with her.
‘I think Mike’s in a bit of a huff.’
Rafe slid a copy of a paperback thriller back; he ran a finger slowly down its spine before turning. There was a hard light in his eyes. ‘I don’t think I’ll be losing any sleep over your Mike.’
‘He isn’t my Mike,’ she replied irritably.
Rafe’s eyes narrowed as he looked searchingly at her. ‘No…?’
‘He’s getting married today.’
‘Most people would consider him pretty good-looking,’ Rafe remarked casually.
‘Fortunately Rose took after him in the looks department…’
‘So you do think he’s good-looking…?’
Natalie gave a bewildered frown. ‘Look, just how are Mike’s looks important to anything?’ she demanded.
‘If he decided not to get married, if he asked you to take him back—would you?’
Natalie coloured angrily. ‘What do you take me for?’
His smile was cynical. ‘A woman in love?’
Natalie’s eyes slid from his. ‘I am not in love with Mike,’ she replied guardedly. Now that she knew what being in love actually felt like she knew she had never loved Mike in that way.
Rafael gave one of his inimical shrugs. Natalie studied his face. ‘You didn’t like him, did you?’
His jaw tightened. ‘I didn’t like the number he was trying to do on you,’ he revealed grimly. ‘Give him custody? No lawyer, no matter how well paid, could persuade a court in the country to take Rose away from you.’
‘You don’t know all the facts.’
‘I know you’re a good mother.’
The conviction in his tone brought an emotional lump to her throat. ‘But I’m stony-broke. It’s ironic, really Mike has never been able to pay child support. Now he’s marrying a rich woman, his uncle has died and left him a property worth over two million and the critics have decided he’s the next Warhol! I, on the other hand, expend more than I earn.’
‘What I said still stands—you’re a good mother and that’s all any judge would be interested in.’
‘You’re sure?’ Natalie said wistfully; she really wanted to believe him.
‘Totally,’ Rafe confirmed.
Normally Natalie found his immutable confidence irritating, but this was one occasion when she welcomed it. ‘Did you go along with…?’
‘Go along with…?’
Cheeks burning, she lifted her head. ‘Me saying we were engaged. Was it because you didn’t like Mike?’
‘I expect that had something to do with it,’ he confirmed.
‘I suppose you expect me to apologise for…’
‘Well, going on your track record I’m not expecting it any time soon.’
Natalie’s head came up, she set her hands on her hips and glared up at him. ‘I don’t have a problem apologising when I know I’m in the wrong—even to you!’
One dark brow lifted. ‘Meaning I do?’
‘You made me feel about so high,’ she said, holding her forefinger and thumb a whisper away from one another. ‘And,’ she added bitterly, ‘if you wanted to put me in my place you didn’t have to do it in front of everyone! You didn’t have to…’ She broke off, dismayed to feel her eyes fill with tears. ‘You probably don’t even know when I’m talking about.’ Why would he?
‘I know.’
‘I was stupid enough at the time to think that we were friends,’ she added in a small voice.
‘Yes, you were stupid,’ he agreed. ‘We could never be friends,’ he added harshly.
To hear him spell it so brutally hurt more than she would have thought possible. ‘What’s wrong, Rafe—is my hair the wrong colour?’ Rafe’s eyes followed the movement of her fingers as they slid through the silky strands of her long brown hair. ‘Or am I from the wrong social background?’ she suggested scornfully.
‘Your hair…’ He cleared his throat and removed his gaze from her hair. ‘Your hair is beautiful.’ The forceful nature of this raw declaration made Natalie look at him sharply. ‘And who our parents were has nothing to do with it.’
‘Pooh…says you!’ She sniffed.
His nostrils flared as she turned away from him. ‘Yes, I do,’ he rebutted in a driven undertone. ‘And I say we couldn’t be friends because there’s too much chemistry between us and there has been from day one.’
Natalie spun back, her face flushed, her mouth slightly ajar. She could feel her fragile grip on reality slipping as she focused on his lean dark face. ‘You’re my b…boss.’
‘I don’t need reminding of that,’ he promised her.
‘Day one!’ she breathed in a stunned undertone. ‘You liked me…?’
‘I don’t think like is the correct term. Changing the subject slightly, which believe me I don’t do out of choice…I was wondering…?’
‘Yes…?’
‘Are you going to the wedding like that?’
‘Like…?’ Frowning, she followed the direction of Rafe’s gaze and gave a cry. ‘Oh, God, what time is it?’ she cried, drawing the gaping lapels of her thin, loose-fitting robe in her fist.
‘Relax, it’s early yet.’
‘You wake up looking drop-dead gorgeous; for me it requires a little more time.’
‘I think you look gorgeous like that.’
‘If you’re going to lie, try for something a little more believable.’
Rafe shook his head. ‘My God, I’ve never met a woman as hard to be nice to as you.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
NATALIE smudged a little soft brown shadow on her eyelids and smeared some clear gloss on her lips. A quick flick of blusher completed her hastily applied make-up. It was ironic that the one time she had planned to really go to town with the warpaint she was in even more of a hurry than usual.
‘Well, they do say the natural look is in this season,’ she reflected, eyeing the result in the mirror as she fought her way into the simple soft apricot shift dress she’d decided to wear. It bore the label of a chain-store brand; Natalie had decided it would be foolish to try and compete on her budget.
She slipped her feet into a pair of high-heeled sandals that emphasised the shapely length of her slender calves and smoothed out a wrinkle in her fine lace-topped hold-ups she wore underneath. She glanced at her watch; it was the only jewellery, besides a pair of antique drop pearl earrings, she wore.
