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He was. But what did that mean to her?
The table was set with candles and fine china. Soft music drifted from hidden speakers.
The overture to Attempt Number Three begins, she thought, and she took a little breath, then put her head up and strolled briskly towards him.
‘Hannah.’ He smiled. ‘You look lovely.’
‘Thank you.’ She took the glass of wine he held out and moved past him towards a bed of scarlet trumpetflowers. ‘These are spectacular,’ she said, as if talking about flowers were what they’d done the last time they’d seen each other.
Grant didn’t miss a beat. ‘I’ll bet the hummingbirds think so, too.’
She turned in surprise. ‘Hummingbirds?’
He nodded. ‘Sure. They’re drawn to the colour red. There are probably half a dozen different varieties in this part of Mexico. A few years ago, when I was in Arizona…’
It was the start of a free-ranging conversation that at first made her suspicious, then confused, but eventually it was so fascinating that she forgot to be anything but interested.
They moved from hummingbirds to films, from films to books. Grant had an opinion on everything, which didn’t surprise her. What did surprise her was the way he was willing to listen to her viewpoint, to concede that there might be another way of looking at things.
He was charming and attentive, and when, at midnight, he smiled and said that it was late, she was almost reluctant to agree.
But she was tired; she was yawning even as she got to her feet.
Grant smiled apologetically. ‘I’ve kept you up too late,’ he said. He put his arm lightly around her shoulders. ‘Come on. We’ll call it a night.’
She looked up at him, and all at once she remembered what she had for the past hours forgotten.
‘You don’t have to walk me to my room.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ He smiled. ‘It’s not as if I have to go out of my way to do it.’
She let him lead her to the door. She walked stiffly, holding herself so that their bodies didn’t touch. She was ready for what would surely come next—but not for what actually did.
Grant put his hands on her shoulders and dropped the lightest of kisses on her forehead.
‘Goodnight, Hannah,’ he said. He reached past her, opened her door, and gently put his hand in the small of her back. And, just like that, he was gone.
Hannah stood in the darkness while she tried to get her bearings. Was he really going to leave it at that? Yes. Apparently he was; she could hear the sound of his retreating footsteps.
Well, well, well. She kicked off her sandals, then unzipped her dress. It had been easier than she’d expected.
Moments later, face scrubbed free of make-up, wearing a T-shirt and her panties rather than going through the foolishness of putting on the nightgown Sally and the other girls had insisted on giving her, she climbed into bed and fell into a sound sleep.
She came awake slowly, shivering in the unexpected chill of a night breeze drifting in through the opened shutters. She sighed, tossed back the blankets, and padded to close the window, but when she reached it she froze.
A figure stood in the atrium, lit by the underwater lights of the pool. Grant, still dressed as he had been hours ago, in dinner-jacket and black trousers, stood staring at the shifting patterns in the water. There was something in the line of his shoulders that made her heart stop beating.
She did not know why she went to the door and opened it. Perhaps it was enough that it was night, that everything had the faint shimmer of illusion.
Her bare feet whispered across the flagstones. She stopped when she was at some distance from him and called his name softly.
He didn’t turn, didn’t seem surprised at her presence. His shoulders lifted, then fell, and she heard him sigh before he spoke.
‘It’s all right, Hannah. Go back to bed.’
‘Grant—what’s the matter?’
He shook his head. ‘Nothing. I just couldn’t sleep.’
She knew now what she’d seen in him when she’d looked out of her window. There was weariness in every line of his body, and it touched her heart.
She took a step forward. ‘Can I do anything?’
‘Can you… ?’ He laughed, although it didn’t really sound like a laugh at all. ‘Just go back to bed. I didn’t mean to wake you. I—I won’t disturb you any more.’
She went to him and reached out, then drew back her hand without touching his.
‘If you—if you want to sit and talk for a while——’
‘Talk?’ He spun towards her; his tie was undone and the top buttons of his shirt were open. ‘Talk?’ His mouth twisted. ‘Dammit, Hannah, I’ve had enough of talking.’
If only I could see his face, she thought, if only I could see what’s in his eyes.
‘I only want to help…’
‘Then go to bed!’
‘Is it——?’ She swallowed. ‘Is it because you’re upset about us?’ He didn’t answer, and she moved closer. ‘I didn’t mean what I said,’ she whispered, ‘about—about prostituting myself. I mean, we misunderstood each other, that’s all. I know you didn’t——’
She cried out as he caught hold of her. ‘You little fool,’ he muttered, ‘don’t you understand?’
‘I do. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. No one has to know what went wrong between us, Grant. We can say we——’
‘I thought I could do this,’ he whispered. His hands slid to her throat, then to her face. ‘I thought I could bring you here, keep my hands off you—hell, I thought I could court you——’
‘Court me?’
‘Yes, dammit. Court you, so it wouldn’t come as such a goddamned shock when I took you to my bed.’ His eyes swept over her face. ‘I wanted to give us time, to give you time… but I can’t!’
Hannah felt breathless, as if the air were being drawn from her lungs.
‘I know you want me as much as I want you,’ he said, ‘but——’
‘You’re wrong,’ she started to say, but he shook his head.
‘You don’t have to say anything, Hannah. I know now that I’ll never be able to change your mind.’ He stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets, then turned his back to her. ‘I’ve gone about this whole business with all the grace of a bull i
n a china shop, and I want you to know—I want you to know, I’m sorry.’
She took a step forward. Was he really apologising?
‘You’re free to leave,’ he said. He took a breath. ‘It’s over.’
‘Over?’ she whispered.
‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘This is—it was a mistake.’ His shoulders stiffened. ‘We’ll go home tomorrow.’
Tears of relief came to Hannah’s eyes. It was over, really over. He was releasing her from her obligations, cancelling the contract.
‘Just go back to your room,’ he said.
‘Grant——’
‘Dammit, go!’ He swung towards her, and his eyes met hers. ‘I still want to make love to you, and if I start…’ He swallowed, the sound audible in the silence. ‘I won’t stop,’ he said fiercely. ‘Not tonight.’
A hush seemed to fall over the garden. She could walk away from him. He had no hold on her any more…
Her head understood. But her heart was sending a different message. Go to him, it said with every beat. Now that he’s given you a choice, you can go to him with your head held high. Go to him, Hannah. It’s what you want, what you’ve always wanted…
‘Then don’t stop,’ she said, and she was in his arms, her mouth open and hungry against his, giving now that she was free to give, taking what she had for so long wanted.
‘Hannah,’ he whispered, his mouth at her throat.
She could hear the question in his voice and she gave the only answer she could, clasping his head in her hands, dragging his mouth down to hers, kissing him with a passion that could no longer be controlled. Grant whispered her name and swung her into his arms.
Moonlight laid an ivory path across the flagstones to her room. He carried her to the bed and laid her down, and she watched as he pulled off his clothing.
Her hands moved over him, learning the satiny texture of his skin, the roughness of his hair, the hardness of his muscles. She lifted her arms and he drew away her T-shirt, then her panties, and then he was beside her, his mouth on her breasts and on her belly.
Suddenly she felt him tremble against her.
‘Hannah,’ he whispered.
‘Yes,’ she sighed, ‘oh, please, yes.’
