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Setting the phone on the bed stand, she turned the lamp off, refusing to let herself dwell on the reason why she’d slept so little last night….
Four
Miranda was wakened the following morning by banging on her bedroom door. She’d barely opened her eyes before Adrian barged in.
“Phone.” He held out the handset. “Callum.”
Her heart sank. She wished fervently she hadn’t been too cowardly to check her cell phone the night before. Now she was at a decided disadvantage. “Thanks.”
Adrian hovered in the doorway, clearly curious. But an older-sister scowl caused him to roll his eyes and depart. When his footfalls finally faded, she lifted the handset to her ear. “Yes?”
“What happened to good morning?” Callum sounded delighted.
She squinted at her bedside clock. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“Although now that I think about it, you didn’t greet me yesterday, either. Maybe you’re not a morning person.”
He had that right. But nor did she want any reminder about waking in his bed yesterday morning. “What do you want?”
“Now there’s a leading question.” He’d lowered his voice to a husky drawl and at once a rush of heat filled Miranda. Oh, heavens! She couldn’t let herself respond to Callum with such unfettered sensual delight.
She tamped it down. “Oh, please, it’s too early in the morning for sexual innuendo.”
He laughed. “Definitely not a morning person. I apologize for calling so early.” That must be a first. “I’m flying out to New York this afternoon,” Callum continued more briskly, “and my schedule this morning is hellish.”
Miranda suppressed the urge to cheer at the thought of Callum over three thousand miles away—it would give her time to recover from the turmoil that sleeping with him had caused her.
He was still talking rapidly. “I’ve got tickets for Les Misérables on Saturday night. Do you want to go? We can have dinner afterward.”
“You called me to invite me on a date?” she said, blank dismay settling over her.
The silence stretched. Then he said, “I suppose you could call it that.”
What else did one call a show and dinner followed by whatever else he had in mind? Shivers prickled as vivid images of what he might be planning assailed her.
The last thing she needed was an affair with Callum Ironstone. She already despised herself enough for allowing him to seduce her—although to be fair she’d been more than willing. If she hadn’t had those glasses of red wine…if he hadn’t been so damn tempting…if he hadn’t kissed her and turned her legs to jelly.
Oh, God, she couldn’t believe she was letting herself relive it all. Callum had taken her to bed the same night he’d proposed to another woman. Because of him her father was dead. How could she have let him touch her? Seeing him again would be a betrayal of her very soul.
“No, I can’t come.”
“Another evening then?”
“No.” She hung up.
The phone rang again. She glared at it. Then picked it up before Adrian—or Flo—could.
“Did you get the message I left on your cell phone last night?”
“No,” she said guardedly, eyeing the phone that winked a message on the bedside table. “But whatever you said wouldn’t have changed my answer.”
“You believe I only slept with you because Petra rejected me.”
That was only the tip of the iceberg. She was furious with herself for sleeping with him at all. Furious with him for making it so easy. “Yes? So what?”
“I never asked Petra to marry me,” he said.
“You didn’t?”
“That’s the message I left for you yesterday.”
“Oh.” She fell silent. Why had he told her this? She wouldn’t allow it to be important. Yet her pulse quickened. Miranda drew a steadying breath, aware that she had to tread carefully.
“It doesn’t make any difference, Callum.” She couldn’t afford to alienate him. He’d given Adrian a vacation job, which might lead to a permanent placement next year. If she annoyed Callum, he might fire Adrian. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea for me to date you.”
