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She’d been delighted, so flattered that she’d even stumbled over asking for an orange juice, but he still hadn’t laughed. And he’d stayed. Stayed and talked to her all through the evening, and late into the night, sharing a meal with her and persuading her to try some of the local dishes. He’d even paid for everything—as a welcome to the island, he’d said.
It was only later as they’d met more often and as she had got to know him—or so she’d believed—that she’d been relaxed enough to try the delicious white Vermentino and the esteemed Patrimonio red made on the island. By then she’d no longer feared he might ply her with alcohol in order to get her defences down. She’d already been deeply intoxicated just on his company alone, on the devastating sexual pull he exerted without trying.
‘How much had he drunk tonight?’
So he’d noticed. It hadn’t been just the memory of her past admissions that had heightened his awareness of her father’s weakness.
‘I’m not sure—possibly just a nightcap with Adnan after you all returned home. He was planning on an early night before the big day tomorrow…’ Her voice faltered. ‘Today.’
‘Adnan doesn’t drink.’
He shocked her with how much he knew about her fiancé. Did he also know of the tragedy that lay behind Adnan’s decision?
Raoul had picked up the bottle of wine, twisting it round in his hands and almost pouring himself a glass before he obviously reconsidered and replaced it on the table beside his empty glass.
Imogen wished she’d done the same. She was still so unused to the effects of alcohol that even the one glassful she’d swallowed was already starting to affect her.
Or was that Raoul himself? It was illogical, quite the opposite of what she’d have expected, but now that Raoul had emerged from the bathroom, towel discarded and replaced by more concealing clothing—a white linen shirt and dark denim jeans—she should have felt much safer, more at ease. But the sensations that were stinging along her nerves were not calm, nor the remotest bit relaxed. Instead they were like the fizzing of an electrical current of awareness. He’d obviously splashed water on his face; the sheen of moisture still glossed his cheekbones and spiked the impossibly thick dark lashes around his eyes. Tiny crystal drops sparkled like diamonds in the jet-black strands of his hair, and the brilliant white of his shirt had been left hanging open against his tanned skin, highlighting the scattering of crisp black hair.
Dressed, but not fully. Clothes just tossed on because of her demand, but the open defiance of what she had wanted was clear in the casual half-dressed style he had adopted. It had once delighted her and made her blood heat, her heart race so fast. But that had been when she was strolling on a sunlit beach, or sitting beside the pool at the hotel, bare feet dangling in the cool blue water. It was not here, not now, not in his bedroom.
Nervously she twitched the sides of her robe close together again, then wished she hadn’t, as she saw his dark eyes flick sideways to follow the betraying movement. Besides, she had no need to fuss, did she? He had already made it plain that his thoughts were on covering her up rather than taking her clothes from her.
She could feel the hot blood slide under her skin, flooding her cheeks with warmth at the thought. She could only pray that Raoul might take her response as being the effects of the rushed gulp of wine which was marking her skin as fast as the alcohol went to her head.
‘So what do we need to talk about?’
She took refuge in attack and saw those straight black brows draw together in displeasure at the sharpness of her tone.
‘You told Adnan the truth.’
It was obvious that was the last thing he had expected.
‘That we were…’
The word ‘lovers’ wouldn’t come. It didn’t accurately describe what they had been. Sex buddies? Friends with benefits? No, not friends. Adnan was a friend—had been a friend, she adjusted painfully.
‘That we’d slept together. Did you think I wouldn’t?’
‘I thought you might want to deny what we had.’
‘What did we have? You were a holiday fling, that’s all.’
