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‘Don’t, Nicholas.’ It was as if he had found an open wound and pulled at it.
‘Don’t what?’
‘Pretend.’ For a second her eyes were almost pleading with him. It took him aback and he fell silent. ‘Perhaps you are a bit flattered by the fact that I was a virgin—but you and I both know that nothing out of the ordinary is taking place here. You probably do this kind of thing every week with a different woman.’
He laughed at that. ‘I can assure you I don’t.’
She looked over at him, her eyes mocking him now.
‘I’m not trying to tell you that I haven’t been out with lots of women. Of course I have—but not a different one every week!’ He smiled and shook his head. ‘I’ve got to leave myself with enough stamina to get some work done, you know.’
The throwaway remark made her laugh.
She had a very attractive laugh, he thought distractedly; it seemed to light her eyes with warmth. If it were true that the eyes were the windows of the soul, then he had seriously miscalculated in his assessment of her.
The thought was not welcome. Why the hell did he keep thinking things like that?
‘So tell me a bit about yourself,’ he invited suddenly.
Instantly her wary expression returned. ‘Why?’
He laughed. ‘Why not? That’s what two people do when they have dinner together for the first time—isn’t it?’
‘We don’t have that kind of relationship,’ she said quickly. She didn’t want him pretending to be interested in her in any deep, meaningful way. Maybe she couldn’t control the intensity of her responses when it came to making love with him, but she could guard her innermost self—at least that way she could keep her heart safe from him, keep some pride intact. ‘Don’t we?’
She shook her head. ‘Any conversations we have should be centred around business.’
‘We dispensed with business earlier.’ His voice was dry.
‘Not entirely,’ she disagreed. ‘We didn’t actually get around to discussing the outdoor shots and whether or not the rest of the campaign should follow the—’
‘Cat, the rest of the campaign hasn’t been agreed on yet. And there is no point in discussing it until we’ve completed the first ad.’ He bit the words out tersely. ‘I’ve already made that quite clear. So stop trying to hide behind work.’
‘I’m not trying to hide behind anything,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m simply saying that we need to at least keep future adverts in mind when we are making this first one.’
‘Just leave it, OK.’
‘If that’s what you want.’
‘It is.’ He frowned and watched as she toyed with her food. ‘What I want to talk about now is you.’ ‘There’s not much to say on that subject.’ ‘I don’t believe that.’
‘Well, it’s true.’ She shrugged. ‘I graduated from university earlier this year, found a job in advertising. That’s it.’
‘And you’re—what—twenty?’ He pretended to hazard a guess and she nodded. ‘That’s young to have graduated.’
‘Is it?’ Cat shrugged. She had always been focused. She had wanted to leave home as soon as possible, and in her mind qualifications had equalled independence so she had pursued them with alacrity.
‘When are you twenty-one?’
‘Just over three months.’ She reached for her glass and took a sip of the champagne. Why was he asking these questions?
She didn’t want him analysing her life—her reactions. And she certainly didn’t want to discuss her birthday! ‘Are you planning anything special?’
‘No.’
‘I suppose your family will be throwing you some kind of celebratory event?’
She shrugged and her eyes met his with a kind of stony indifference.
