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‘Quite sure.’
‘Be it on your own head.’ He turned and then gasped, pointing accusingly at her bare feet. ‘Naked flesh. Cover yourself, woman, have you no sense of decorum?’
‘Very funny, Zac.’ She tried to frown but it was difficult.
‘I have seen women partially dressed before without being overcome by my base male desires,’ he said mildly. ‘Even ones in bikinis, believe it or not. Some…’ He paused dramatically, mocking her. ‘Without any clothes at all. I’m well past the teenage years when raging hormones can take over and cause you to do something you later regret. You’re quite safe, Rachel.’
So he’d regret sleeping with her, would he? Or was he referring to getting the girl pregnant who’d become his wife? ‘I know I’m safe,’ she said regally. ‘And I don’t know why we’re having this ridiculous conversation.’
‘It could have something to do with the fact that you make me feel like some lecherous old man.’
Startled, her eyes met his and although his voice had been coolly amused she could see no laughter in the piercing gold gaze, just the opposite. Weakly, she said, ‘You’re not old.’
‘Thanks,’ he murmured with dry sarcasm.
‘No, what I meant was, of course you’re not like that. I don’t think of you like that.’
‘How do you think of me, Rachel?’
She stared at him, her tongue feeling as though it was stuck to the roof of her mouth and panic riding high. This was so unfair—what did he want of her anyway? One minute he was telling her she could mean nothing in his life, that he intended to leave England at the end of his stay and conduct his life in exactly the same way as before, and the next he wanted her to bare her heart to him. Well, she didn’t want to be in love with him and once he was out of her orbit it would be easier to pretend to herself. Hopefully. Her small chin rose. ‘As a friend, as Jennie’s cousin, of course. I thought you knew that.’
‘That’s all? Nothing more?’
Anger pumped in much-needed adrenalin. ‘What do you want me to say, Zac?’ she asked tightly. ‘That I can’t live without you? That I want to make love with you every hour of the next two weeks you’re around? You’ve made it crystal clear how you conduct your life and what you want from a woman, and it couldn’t be further from what I want. Admittedly I was still licking my wounds from Giles when I met you, which had coloured my view of the male sex to some extent, but deep down I’ve always known what I wa
nted out of life, and it includes marriage and children and the whole togetherness thing. That’s just the way I’m made and I don’t intend to apologise for it.’
‘I’m not asking you to,’ he said evenly, but the classical features could have been carved in stone so hard they’d become.
‘Good, because I won’t. I’ve often envied Jennie her carefree approach to life and love, but I know I’m not like her. I wouldn’t survive one love affair after another, not emotionally. And I’m not a career-woman in the full sense of the word either. I like my job but I’ve never planned for it to be the be all and end all. I want, I need more than that.’
‘I know that. It wasn’t only me who made things perfectly clear last night. Remember?’ he said icily. ‘And I didn’t want a lecture on morals this morning, OK?’
Her eyes widened at the injustice. ‘How dare you?’ she grated, absolutely furious. ‘I haven’t criticised you for the choices you’ve made or anyone else, come to it. I’ve just told you how I feel. If you want a woman while you’re over here, have a word with sweet little Angel downstairs and I’m sure she’d be only too willing to meet your conditions.’
‘Now you’re being absurd,’ he bit out heatedly.
‘I think not.’ She was so mad she could have punched him right on his gorgeous jaw. ‘She’s your sort of woman, after all.’
She watched him take a visible breath, but then moment by moment he regained control of his temper. He even adopted a mockingly sardonic expression, one dark eyebrow raised quizzically. ‘What makes you think you know my “sort of woman”?’ he drawled, his tone suggesting he was talking to a recalcitrant child.
Two could play at the cool I-don’t-give-a-damn game. Her cheeks burning, Rachel called on all her considerable willpower. Schooling her face from a glare to a superior smile, she struck a nonchalant pose and ticked off on her fingers: ‘Beautiful, independent, unattached, unconstrained, sexy and, above all, willing. Right so far? Shall I go on?’
Only a brief narrowing of his eyes betrayed he didn’t like the way the conversation was going. ‘Please do.’
‘Liberated,’ she continued sweetly, ‘worldly wise, of course, someone who would be quite happy to share your life and your bed for a few weeks or even months until the thing fizzled out. Intelligent—you would want more than mere physical stimulation from a lover—’
‘Thank you,’ he put in with acidic sarcasm.
‘And self-confident enough to bow out when the time came without any tears or regrets, nothing…messy.’
‘And you think there are a number of these paragons on tap, as it were?’ he asked grimly. ‘Just waiting to fall into my bed?’
She met the gold eyes fair and square. ‘Aren’t there? The business world is populated by such women these days, we live in a society where the modern woman is able to take what was once a man’s world by the throat and live by her own rules. I know lots of women who have put all thoughts of a permanent relationship on hold while they cement their careers, planning to do the family thing when they approach forty, but that doesn’t mean they’re not up for some fun in the meantime. Jennie’s a prime example. She intends to do the baby thing in another decade but not before.’
He was frowning now. ‘What if a suitable man doesn’t drop into her lap on cue? Or is she going to magic one up?’
‘Zac, women don’t necessarily need a man to have a baby these days, not if they’re wealthy enough to visit a clinic.’
