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‘Yes. Once they arrive I’ll take the kettle and coffee and tea things out of the way. All the cupboards are cleared, of course. Everything’s ready.’

‘I didn’t doubt it would be.’ He perched himself on an empty worktop. ‘I’ll have my coffee black.’

Marianne busied herself filling the kettle and placing two of the six mugs she had kept handy for the builders on a tray, keeping her ba

ck to him as she did so. She couldn’t blame him for coming to check on his investment and she had half expected he might call over the next day or two while he was in England; she just hadn’t bargained for a dawn visit! And she found his presence acutely disturbing, especially after the home truths which had been exchanged the evening before. Still, she would have had to face him at some point, she told herself bracingly, so it might as well be earlier rather than later.

This comforting thought disappeared when he said in quite a different tone, ‘Sleep well?’

Steeling herself to turn and face him, she brought all her will-power to bear in a polite smile. ‘Not too bad. And you?’

He shrugged. ‘Not a wink.’

‘Oh.’ She didn’t know what to say, not so much because of the admission he had made but the look on his face. Gone was the cool businessman of a minute ago and in his place was the Rafe of last night. She turned round on the pretence of making the coffee and caught sight of herself in one of the glass doors of the empty cupboards. If she could see the tension lines radiating from her mouth then so could Rafe.

‘We need to talk.’

She didn’t reply to this, tipping hot water onto the coffee and stirring it before she nerved herself to face him again. ‘It’s instant, I’m afraid.’

‘Did you hear what I said?’

‘Rafe, we talked last night.’

‘Yes, we did,’ he said steadily. ‘It was the first time I have really talked to a woman in years, since the break-up of my marriage, in fact. It was a painful experience.’

‘I’m sorry—’

He cut her off by seamlessly continuing, ‘But necessary. I see that now. Certain wounds were cauterised. Years too late perhaps, but cauterised nonetheless. Other issues were brought up to the surface, however, and they were harder to deal with. Hence the sleepless night.’

Marianne took a big gulp of her coffee. She didn’t know where this was going but she needed the caffeine to cope without a doubt. She noticed her hand was shaking and hoped he hadn’t. She also wished she wasn’t in her oldest jeans and paint-stained top with not a scrap of make-up and her hair pulled back in a ponytail. A confidence booster, it wasn’t.

‘When we parted last night I spent some hours on the beach.’ He took a pull of his own coffee, his eyes narrowing over the steam rising from the mug. ‘By the time I went back to the house I’d decided to stay in England for a few weeks, but I still wasn’t sure what I wanted. No, that’s wrong. I wasn’t sure what I could offer.’

‘Offer?’ She stared at him, her eyes huge in the paleness of her face. She wished she hadn’t taken the breakfast stools out of the way the day before when she had cleared the room. She would have given anything to sit down and control the trembling in her legs.

He nodded. ‘But then, as I sat up all night, things became clear.’

Marianne studied his handsome face, taking in the blue, blue eyes, the chiselled facial structure, the firm mouth. He was so composed, she thought weakly. So in control. Nothing really touched him.

And then he disabused her of this idea when he uncoiled himself from the breakfast bar and stood up, setting his mug down. His expression remained impassive but she saw something in his eyes that caused her heart to race. ‘Can I ask you something before I continue?’ he said softly.

She nodded, trying to still the rapid beating of her heart.

‘You’ve said often enough we’re very different people and I accept that. You’ve also said you acknowledge that physically we would be good together. But—’

‘What?’

‘Could you see yourself wanting to get to know me? As a person, not—’ He paused. ‘Not as someone who gives you the privilege of their company in bed.’

The words she had thrown at him were without heat but she knew they had cut deep. Emotion surged through her so rawly she lowered her eyes. She couldn’t let him see how he affected her. ‘I’m not sure what it is you’re saying,’ she prevaricated.

He waited until she raised her gaze to his before he said, ‘It’s simple.’

‘No, nothing’s simple with you,’ she responded before she considered her words. ‘You’ve told me you are completely satisfied with your life the way it is. That you like to be free, without commitment of any kind. That you would never dream of getting emotionally involved with a woman again. That’s what you’ve told me.’

‘I lied. Not consciously, but the man I’ve become is not the man I want to continue to be. Does that make sense?’

‘Last night you were so sure, Rafe.’

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