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‘Don’t you? Well, the sex was pretty good.’
Megan flinched as though she had been struck, and Alessandro raked restless, frustrated fingers through his hair. He hadn’t intended to say that. In fact, even harking back to the sex they had had made him feel as though he had crashed through an invisible barrier that should have remained intact.
‘Forget I said that. Like everything else between us, that is history. I’m here because I didn’t like the way things were left between us.’
‘Not my problem.’
She began walking towards the bus stop—sports bag in one hand, rucksack slung over one shoulder, and yet another bag, over the other shoulder. She felt him take the sports bag out of her hand and she spun round, glaring.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘Don’t you want to go and see what your boyfriend is up to?’ He dangled the bag over his head and watched as she simmered impotently in front of him. God knew, but hearing her say that she regretted ever going out with him had touched a raw nerve—and who the hell was this Robbie character to her, anyway?
Momentarily distracted by his misconception that Robbie was her boyfriend, Megan laughed again—that rich, warm laugh that could still find some crazy crack in his armour that he hadn’t been aware even existed.
‘Maybe I should…’ She trailed the words out, as if giving them a lot of thought. ‘Do you think he might need protecting from your fiancée?’
‘You really have changed, Megan. I remember when we used to go out you couldn’t even tolerate the thought of me looking at another woman, never mind having a cup of coffee with one.’
‘Yes, I remember. It was a very unhealthy place to be, had I but known it at the time.’ Why did this feel so dangerous? she wondered. How could these unpleasant, unproductive exchanges make the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end and give her the giddy sensation that she was walking a tightrope?
‘Maybe I will go and see what Robbie’s up to,’ she said, just in case he really did decide to get on the bus with her. ‘Although I think you should be the one to worry. Little tip here, Alessandro. Robbie could charm the birds from the trees if he put his mind to it. And, since you’re so intent on playing the gentleman that you’re not…’ she dumped all her bags at his feet ‘…you can carry the lot.’
She eased her tired shoulders and looked at him, wondering if he would reconsider his decision to hound her and tell her to carry her own bags. He didn’t. He effortlessly picked up all her bags, and seemed to have little concern for the welfare of his expensive clothes.
‘So you think I should be worried about your football coach, do you?’ Alessandro’s voice was threaded with amusement.
‘It’s not all about money,’ Megan snapped, walking towards the only coffee shop in the vicinity—the same one they all used after football games.
‘Do you really think that Victoria is interested in my money? More to the point, do you really think that I would give the time of day to any woman if I thought she was after my money?’ He laughed shortly. ‘Victoria wouldn’t look twice at a man who wasn’t as driven as she is.’
‘What an exciting life the two of you must lead. Do you spend hours talking about work, and how wonderful it is that neither of you has any fun?’
‘Whoever said that we don’t have fun, Megan?’
That low, silky voice sent a nervous tremor rippling through her—made her think about all the things he and his fiancée might do for fun. She thought about him sharing his nights with the other woman, waking up to her, congratulating himself on the perfect match they made.
‘I can’t say that I’m interested one way or the other, actually.’
‘No, you made that perfectly clear the last time I tried to engage you in conversation.’
‘Which reminds me—have you told Dominic’s mother that we know one another?’
‘Naturally.’ Alessandro shrugged. As he had predicted, Victoria had been surprised, but not alarmed.
‘And she didn’t mind?’
‘That I dropped you home? Why should she? It’s hardly as though there’s anything between us now.’
He thought of her in her jeans and jumper, wearing her ridiculous slippers which he imagined had been some kind of protest vote at him being under her roof. She hadn’t been wearing a bra, and he didn’t know how he had known that. Maybe the swing of her full breasts under the cloth as she had reached over to hand him his mug of coffee, or maybe he just knew, because her body had once been his and the familiarity of a woman you possessed never quite left you.
