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Frowning, Maya reached the library and pushed open the door. It was cool inside and, tucking her pad against her chest, she folded her arms to get warm. The room was stunning, decorated in the style of its Jacobean ancestry, but with some smart contemporary pieces of furniture dotted around too. Best of all, it was lined with bookshelves from floor to ceiling that were jam-packed with books, and in the middle of the far wall was the most beautiful inlaid marble fireplace. Above it hung a striking portrait of a handsome young dark-haired man. Moving closer to examine the picture, Maya felt a jolt a bit like a small lightning strike, jagged through her insides. The name of the artist was scrawled at the bottom right-hand corner, plain for all to see…Alistair Devereaux.
How did Blaise come to own one of her father’s paintings? Why had he never told her about it? Studying the painting, with its exquisite confident brushstrokes and bold use of colour, Maya was catapulted back in time. Suddenly memories of all her father had meant to her—his love for her, his neglect of her and finally his complete and utter desertion of her—crashed down over her head. Furiously wiping her tears away, she was poignantly struck right then by how dangerously strong her feelings were becoming towards Blaise.
She should look out. If she got too close to him would he ultimately neglect her, reject her and desert her? Why shouldn’t he do all those things? she asked herself. He was in the arts, as her father had once been, was well known by the media and fêted by an adoring public. What she knew of him so far seemed to suggest that he was fairly wary of commitment too…She’d be an utter idiot to let her heart be ensnared by such a man—no matter how charming, handsome, talented or good in bed. She’d best just stick to her resolve of having an affair and expect nothing else…because she knew without a doubt that her self-preservation depended on it…
At dinner that night, after what had turned out to be a very satisfying day’s work, Blaise returned his half-drunk glass of Chardonnay to the table, avidly studying Maya’s softly shadowed features in the flickering candlelight.
‘By the way, tomorrow I’m giving you a car for your use while you’re here. I thought you might like another MG, since you seem to know so much about them. What do you think?’ he asked.
Carefully Maya touched her white linen napkin to her lips. She was wearing a very becoming multi-coloured maxi-dress, its swirls of soft verdant green in the pattern of the satiny material complementing the vivid emerald of her eyes, and Blaise found himself admiringly musing if there was a colour in existence that didn’t complement her? He very much doubted it.
‘Are you sure? If it’s anything like the one we drove to Camden in it must be your pride and joy.’
‘I trust that you’re not going to be reckless and drive it into a brick wall. And if you do…’ He lifted his broad shoulders in a careless shrug. ‘I think I’ll get over it. At the end of the day it’s only a car.’
‘My father was extremely possessive and protective about his cars. If any one of them had been damaged in any way, I don’t think he would have got over it so easily.’
‘Was he as possessive and protective about you?’
‘I think you already know the answer to that question.’ She gazed at him steadily, and there was an air of defiance about her unwavering stare. When Blaise didn’t probe further, she sighed, saying, ‘I have a question for you. Why didn’t you tell me you owned one of my father’s paintings? The one in the library—though for all I know you may have others you haven’t told me about.’
‘I only have the one. The portrait of a young actor my father was mentoring. It was left to me when my parents died. To tell you the truth, I did plan on telling you about it, but I guess I just got wrapped up in work and forgot.’
‘You didn’t think I’d be interested in such a pertinent piece of information, seeing as the painter was my father?’
‘Seems to me you have a lot of unresolved business concerning your father, Maya, and I get the feeling it really haunts you.’
‘And it seems to me that you have a lot of unresolved business concerning your past too, Blaise! Or else why are you so reluctant to even talk about it? It’s like you’ve built some kind of—of fortress around the subject, with a sign saying “Keep out”.’
Inside his chest, Blaise’s heartbeat accelerated. He’d been anticipating some pleasant and relaxed small talk over dinner, before finally doing the thing he craved the most…taking Maya to bed and enjoying a long, uninterrupted breathless night’s lovemaking. What he hadn’t been anticipating was that she would be challenging him on the one part of his life that he kept strictly private. The one topic that wasn’t open to casual after-dinner conversation. He twisted his lips into a grimace.
