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Touched, Rosie had flung her arms around her old friend’s neck, miserably aware of how disappointed in her she’d be if she knew how closely she’d followed in her mother’s footsteps and jumped into bed with a man who was so completely out of her league.
Uncomfortably aware now that the proximity of a bed and Sebastian Garcia was having a terrible effect on her heart-rate, she shuffled her feet against the thick pile of the white carpet.
As if sensing her discomfiture he turned the brilliance of his silver eyes on her and she shivered, knowing that her determination to get real and wipe all her immature yearnings out of her head was a lost cause. Hell would freeze over before she would stop wanting him for herself, loving him.
It’s too late to do anything useful today. I’ll phone out for our supper and we’ll go shopping tomorrow.’ His dark drawl made her spine quiver and her fascinated gaze lingered helplessly on the taut powerful lines of his body as he placed her luggage at the foot of the bed, where the battered old suitcase and the bulging plastic carrier reminded her shamefully of a heap of clutter left out for the bin men.
Knowing that something other than an embarrassed silence would naturally be expected of her, Rosie hauled herself together and countered, ‘How long are we going to be here?’
Then, remembering what he’d said about going to the shops, she offered, If you’ll tell me how to get to a supermarket I’ll do the shopping if you like. I’m a dab hand at finding bargains, believe me.’ That way she wouldn’t feel quite such a hanger-on.
She could make herself useful and save him money by cooking for them instead of him having to send out for stuff that would probably be horribly expensive.
Sebastian tossed her an underbrow look as a huge wave of tenderness engulfed him. She was obviously feeling out of her depth, anxious to slip into a role she would be comfortable with. A skivvy. Well, no way. She deserved better. She deserved the best.
And quite where that thought had come from, or why it was so insistent, he had no idea. But he gave her his heartbreaking smile, and said, ‘We’re not going shopping for food, cara. I want to see you wearing decent clothes. You have a beautiful body; it’s a crime to hide it under dull, practical working gear. And we’ll only be, in London until I can arrange our flight out.’
He shot a look at his slim gold wristwatch. ‘Which I’m about to get on to now.’
Poleaxed by what had sounded like an endearment and a very real compliment, Rosie went bright scarlet and was too tongue-tied to speak until he’d turned on his heel and made a swift exit.
By the time she’d gathered herself she could already hear him speaking on the phone, so that put paid to her belated intention to run after him and explain that she couldn’t afford to buy new clothes.
Besides, she surely had something she could wear without making him cringe with embarrassment at being seen out with her.
Staunchly determined not to read too much into what he’d said about her having a beautiful body, because men who leapt into bed with women on practically their first meeting probably said that sort of thing all the time, she began the dispiriting task of unpacking.
Rosie had been awake for what seemed like absolutely ages but she wasn’t nearly ready to leave her bed and face the rest of the day. With him. Yesterday evening had been bad enough; the hours and hours stretching ahead would be worse.
After he’d shown her to the room she was to use, she’d left him to his phoning and whatever else he was doing, too uncomfortable with the situation to be easy in his company. To pass the time, and hopefully stop herself thinking about him, she’d had a shower in the adjoining e n suite bathroom, pampering herself with the fragrant shampoos, oils and essences that would normally be way beyond her means.
And, just to show him she had something other than shabby old jeans and sweatshirts to wear, she’d got into her one good dress. Bought several years ago because she’d fallen in love with the colour, a lovely hyacinth-blue, and she’d needed one nice dress to take on the school trip to Paris, it had been a real bargain. Not second-hand, either, but a knock-down price in a closing down sale.
She had cinched the belt as tight as it would go. She’d obviously lost quite a bit of weight since she’d worn it last. But teamed with her respectable brown shoes she did look presentable. Not sophisticated or expensive, of course, as the women Sebastian would be used to squiring around would be expected to look, but nothing to be ashamed of, either.
She’d been a bundle of nerves when he’d finally rapped on her bedroom door and told her, a touch impatiently, that their supper had arrived. Half hoping that he’d approve of the way she looked, and announce that in his opinion she didn’t need to spend her precious wages on clothes she obviously didn’t need, she had been disproportionately disappointed when he had said nothing at all.
Seated opposite him at the kitchen table—the room resembled a set for an avant garde space-age film, she decided—her appetite had fled. She had been sure the food was delicious, the Sebastian Garcias of this world wouldn’t ruin their superior palates with anything suspect from a greasy spoon takeaway, but apart from nibbling at a giant prawn in a lemony sauce she hadn’t been able to eat a thing.
‘We fly out the day after tomorrow,’ was the only thing he said to her, not sounding over the moon about it, either, and for the rest of the time he seemed preoccupied with troublesome thoughts that he obviously had no intention of sharing with her.
Growing more hot under the collar by the second, Rosie decided she knew why.
Sitting up very straight, she told him, ‘Look, if you’re having second thoughts about my going with you to Spain, just say so. I’m not exactly thrilled about it, either.’
Pushing his own barely touched plate away, Sebastian released a long sigh, his lean face hardening, his eyes pinning her to her seat. ‘Backing out, Rosie?’
His tone warned her that if she gave him an affirmative she’d be in for a rough ride. And if she did back out she would lose the opportunity of seeing her father. Her own flesh and blood.
But that didn’t really matter, did it? She could always visit Troone Manor when Marcus was back in residence and decide whether or not to introduce herself according to what her instincts at the time told her.
She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of that simple option before, and having an option gave her the courage to point out kindly, I expect you find me a nuisance. I know why you feel you have to keep an eye on me—we both behaved stupidly—’
Oh, lordy, why did she have to keep blushing? She must resemble a boiled lobster! ‘But if I give you my solemn word that I’ll write and put you in the picture, when I know what the picture is, you needn’t go to the trouble of hauling me all the way to Spain.’
Her breath gone, she sagged feebly back in her seat, what she had just done hitting her right in the face. She’d given him the perfect get-out and she knew she didn’t want him to take it.
She was every kind of tool! Didn’t she know that spending time around him was damaging her poor demented heart’? Of course she damned well did!
