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Rosalie took a deep breath, slipping out of bed and padding across to the chest of drawers where she found a clean hanky and blew her nose unelegantly.
People went through far worse than her, she told herself firmly. She hadn’t been disfigured or disabled in an accident or lost a child; she wasn’t friendless or starving or living on the streets. She had a lovely home and a fulfilling job, and normally she was perfectly happy. Everything had only begun to go pear-shaped since Kingsley had appeared on the scene. Once he left she’d be fine.
She ignored the lurch her stomach gave at the idea of a life in which Kingsley didn’t feature, and snuggled under the covers again.
Mind over matter, she thought with determination, that was what all this was about. Hearing his voice so unexpectedly tonight had caused a little blip in the process, but she could cope with that. She had to distance herself from Kingsley Ward in her head and her body would follow suit. Simple, really…
CHAPTER EIGHT
SUMMER was in full bloom, and London was in the grip of a heatwave that sent hordes of office workers flocking to the capital’s parks in their lunch hours, where they ate their sandwiches under leafy trees and grumbled about having to return to work in such beautiful weather.
All Rosalie was concerned about was the fact that the plaste
r was off, her ankle had mended well and the itching that had sent her crazy the last few days was gone.
It had been two weeks since the weekend with Kingsley at Beth’s, and he had not been back in the country since then although he had phoned Rosalie several times. Each time he did she promised herself that the next time she wouldn’t be breathless and shivery and excited. But then broken promises to yourself didn’t count.
On the fifteenth day she had yet another call, this time at work. He was arriving at Heathrow around sixish, Kingsley drawled easily, his voice deep and smoky. He’d like to do dinner if she was available? He’d pick her up at eight and they could go to a club he knew, somewhere where the food was good and they could dance a little to celebrate the plaster coming off. How did that sound?
This was the perfect opportunity to slow things right down, Rosalie told herself silently. They hadn’t seen each other in a while, and putting a date off would send a message even Kingsley’s ego couldn’t ignore. She could be pleasant but cool.
‘Dinner?’ She took a steadying breath. ‘I’d love to.’
‘Great.’ His voice was warm and it caused her skin to tingle.
No, not great. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
There was a pause, and then he said very softly, ‘Have you been good whilst I’ve been gone?’
Okay, you’ve already let the side down once, don’t compound it by going all weak and fluttery just because his voice is reaching the parts no one else’s could. ‘Good? Well, I’ve shared my favours equally between all my many lovers, so would you say that’s being good?’ she said lightly, eternally thankful he couldn’t see her flushed face and trembling hands. ‘How about you?’ she added, careful to keep her voice matter-of-fact.
‘All work and no play isn’t what it’s cut out to be,’ he said wryly. ‘Not by a long chalk.’
Rosalie swallowed; the sensual quivers stirring her blood were drying her mouth too. She forced herself to say just as lightly as before, ‘That’s because you haven’t had any practice in the art of denial, perhaps?’ allowing a little sting in her tone.
‘Perhaps. So, do I get a reward for being good?’
‘Being good is its own reward,’ she said primly.
‘Like hell it is. I’ll see you at eight. Bye, Rosie.’
She stared at the phone for a few moments before replacing the receiver, shaking her head as she did so. Mad, that was what she was. Stark staring mad.
Ten to eight that evening found Rosalie outwardly poised and perfectly groomed, but inwardly shaking. It was when she caught herself agitatedly pacing the sitting room that she warned herself to calm down. She wandered through to the bedroom again, checking her appearance in the long thin mirror to one side of the bed as though she hadn’t already stood there for a long time already.
She had put her hair up for the first time in ages and now her slender neck was revealed by the upswept hairstyle, her eyes with their touch of eyeshadow and mascara seeming extra big and the scarlet gloss lipstick giving a touch of sophistication her confidence desperately needed.
The one-shouldered muslin and satin cocktail dress that ended just below her knees shouldn’t have been her colour in deep scarlet, but it actually brought out the richness in her hair without clashing with the chestnut tones, and she had teamed it with simple strappy charcoal-grey sandals and clutch bag.
It had been thanks to Beth that she had tried the dress on some months earlier in one of the fashionable boutiques. Normally she wouldn’t have touched the colour, but once on the dress had looked a million dollars—as it should have for the price! However, at the last moment she had chickened out of wearing it for the evening with the other partners and their wives and the rest of the staff at Carr and Partners’ Christmas party, deciding it clung just a little too provocatively in places. But tonight…tonight the dress’s unquestionable elegance and the way it transformed her figure into an hourglass was just what she needed.
When the buzzer sounded she counted to ten and then spoke into the little box on her hall wall. ‘Yes?’
‘It’s Kingsley.’
Her heart thudded. She pressed the release for the house’s front door and then opened the door of the flat, meeting him in the hall.
‘Wow.’ He smiled, and before she could say a word he was kissing her. It was a warm, confident kiss, a kiss that stated he had a perfect right to hold her and that he knew she would accept his embrace, but he didn’t prolong the caress, raising his head as he released her and stepped back a pace. ‘You look like all my dreams rolled into one,’ he said lazily, with the touch of mockery she remembered.
