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She knew he was waiting for her to laugh, knew as he looked up that he was expecting a smile. She could see the tiny frown on his brow as he sensed her distraction. ‘What’s wrong, Amelia?’
‘Nothing.’ Rolling into a pillow, she stared at the curtain. ‘Nothing,’ she said again, hoping for more conviction this time. But Vaughan wasn’t to be fooled, and the concern in his voice matched hers as he spoke into the darkness.
‘You’re not on the Pill, are you?’
‘No.’
A hundred questions shrilled in her brain. How could they have been so stupid? for one. It was the twenty-first century, for heaven’s sake. There were condoms by the bed, courtesy of the hotel. It was beyond stupid not to be careful, but nothing, nothing prepared her for the tension that filled the body beside her, the slow hiss of air as he breathed slowly out.
‘We have to do something. You have to take something. You cannot get pregnant.’
‘Vaughan?’ Questioning eyes turned to his. She was angry enough with herself at her own stupidity, but Vaughan’s reaction wasn’t exactly helping matters.
‘There’s a pill—the seventy-two-hour pill,’ Vaughan said urgently. ‘I can ring down for a doctor. Now.’
‘We’ve still got seventy-one hours left!’ It wasn’t a joke exactly, merely an attempt to defuse the situation. She was scarcely able to believe what she was witnessing now—Vaughan Mason, completely perturbed, hands raking through his hair, wrestling with demons of his own that Amelia couldn’t cope with right now. ‘Vaughan, we made a mistake—a stupid mistake…’
‘You’re telling me…’
And suddenly she was angry. Angry and humiliated. He was acting as if she had a shotgun wedged under the pillow, as if she’d forced the night’s events upon them, had somehow planned all this. But, seeing his anguished face, sensing something deeper was happening here, Amelia realised now probably wasn’t the time to point out that it took two to tango, that the mistake had been as much his as hers.
‘You’re overreacting—’ she started, but that only inflamed him more.
‘Amelia, you don’t understand. Trust me on this—you just cannot be pregnant…’
‘Oh, but I think I do understand.’ The air-conditioning must be up too high, because suddenly she was shivering, the intimacy they had shared slipping away like sand through her fingers. ‘Trust you?’ She shook her head angrily. ‘I’m getting a little bit tired of being asked to trust you, Vaughan. In fact I’m starting to think you’re treating me as some sort of—’
‘Amelia,’ Vaughan broke in icily. ‘You’re not the only one being asked to trust here. Might I remind you that you’re a journalist? That’s the entire bloody reason we’re together, after all. You could be sleeping with me just to get a better slant on your story for all I know…’
And it was just too close to the mark, just too appallingly reminiscent of the innuendoes that had tarnished her reputation six months ago. Levering herself off the bed, Amelia searched for her dress, pulled it over her trembling body with her back firmly to him, attempted dignity in the face of utter humiliation. ‘I’m not pregnant, Vaughan, so you don’t have to worry. My period is due tomorrow, which means the chances of me getting pregnant are slim. Does that make you happy? What just took place wasn’t about making babies but about making love—at least it was for me.’
‘Don’t go.’
Her hand was on the door; her instinct was to leave. The vileness of his accusation, the horror in his voice at the possible consequences of their actions had sounded a church’s worth of alarm bells for Amelia, but almost instantly he quelled them, reverting in a second back to the man she was starting to know. He followed her to the door and pulled her tense body beside him, working her taut shoulders as he buried his face in her hair and whispered a heartfelt apology in her ear, leading her back to the bed.
‘I’m sorry, Amelia.’ His voice was pure anguish. ‘I’m overreacting. It’s just…’ His voice petered out, but Amelia wanted more, still reeling from the abrupt change in him.
‘Just what, Vaughan?’ Amelia asked. ‘You’re talking as if I set out to trap you, as if—’
‘No.’ Instantly he refuted her accusation and pulled her back down to lie beside him. ‘I’m angry with myself, not you. Angry with myself that I didn’t stop and think.’
‘It’s called emotion, Vaughan. People don’t always stop and think before they act. As you’ve said, this is the bedroom, not the boardroom. You don’t always go in prepared.’ He nodded at her explanation, pulled her in just a little bit tighter, yet she sensed his distraction, could almost feel his mind whirring as they lay staring into the darkness.
‘Have you sent your article?’
Frowning into his chest, she waited for him to elaborate, pulling away when he didn’t and propping herself up on her elbow, staring down at him. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘I just want to know, that’s all.’
‘No, it hasn’t gone.’ Her words whistled through tight lips. ‘Vaughan, what am I missing here? Are you worried I’m going to say something? That what took place tonight might change what I write?’
‘Of course not.’ And like the wind he changed again—the pensive mood gone, the dynamic man back in her arms again. ‘But if you do, remember to write just how damn good I am.’
She did all the right things—laughed at his joke, even got fully undressed again and climbed right in beside him, curving herself as he spooned in behind her, relishing the delicious feel of his hand cupping her stomach, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing. Yet still Amelia frowned into the darkness, still she didn’t feel entirely comforted.
Something had happened a moment ago that she didn’t understand. She had witnessed a side to him she truly couldn’t fathom.
There was something big that Vaughan was holding back.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘YOU can break the news of the motor deal.’
Blinking as she opened her eyes, Amelia attempted to focus. Sun streamed in through open curtains, accentuating the chaos of the rumpled bed, her shoes on the floor, her dress as crumpled as a dishrag. But it didn’t matter a jot, because sitting on the bed beside her, immaculate in a sharp suit and smiling down at her, was the one thing that made waking up a sheer, indisputable pleasure.
‘What happened to good morning?’ Stretching like a cat, she caught the first delicious aroma of morning coffee, the absolute perfect touch to the perfect awakening. Scarcely able to fathom that not only had she made love to him, but also she didn’t for a second regret it, she said, ‘Is that for me?’ Reaching over, she took a grateful sip, aware all the while of his eyes smiling down at her, not remotely self-conscious, feeling as beautiful as the eyes that adored her. ‘How long have you been up?’
‘An hour. I’ve been in the lounge suite, chatting to Mr Cheng.’
‘Do you always put on a suit to talk on the phone?’ Amelia teased, but of course Vaughan always had an answer.
‘It was a video conference. I didn’t think he’d appreciate the sight of me in my bathrobe.’
‘More fool him, then.’ Amelia smiled, her forehead puckering as she recalled the news she had woken to. ‘I can break it?’
‘Yep.’ Vaughan smiled as the penny dropped. ‘Write that you have it on reliable authority that the deal is going to be formally announced on Monday.’
‘But—’
‘No buts,’ Vaughan interrupted. ‘I’ve spoken to Mr Cheng and he’s more than happy to let some details out before the announcement. We both agree we’d rather it came from someone we know.’
‘Trust, even?’
‘Yeah.’ Vaughan smiled as if he’d just discovered the word. ‘That too.’
‘You don’t need to do this,’ Amelia said, her voice suddenly serious. ‘I’ve already told Paul that I’m going with the original article. I’m more than happy to stand by my decision and weather the consequences.’
‘Well, you don’t have to.’ Vaughan squeezed her thigh through the sheet, ‘This way you both win. You get to write what you want, and Paul gets the first sniff at the story—which will buy you some time to properly make up your mind.’
‘I really can have it all.’ Her hand reached up to his face, capturing that delicious sculptured cheek in her palm, feeling the soft scratch of his chin. Gently she guided his face in towards hers, enjoying the feel of a more leisurely kiss this time. The urgency had gone but the passion was deeper now, the giddy, insatiable lust that had spun them into the bedroom replaced with something just as exhilarating—a cavernous journey of emotion patiently awaiting their exploration, the thrill of peeling back the layers together, the silent promise of all tomorrow might hold.
‘I have to go.’
Grumbling as he pulled away, Amelia lay back on the pillow.
‘Where?’ Seeing the dart in his eyes, Amelia held her breath. A single word had spilled from her lips, and her question had been entirely innocent, but something in Vaughan’s stance told her she’d hit a nerve. ‘You don’t have to answer that,’ she said quickly, swallowing back the hurt. But Vaughan saw through her defences.
