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Now he knew better. So that wildness had purely been driven by rebound and pride? No wonder she hadn’t wanted to know him after and had given him a false number. He’d just been a convenient tool for the evening. His fingers curled tighter round his cutlery. Maybe he wasn’t going to bide his time after all. Maybe he would have a go for the way she’d treated him that night—right about now.
But Bella was still talking. ‘They’re all so pleased, because he is such a great guy,’ she continued. ‘But of course, they do feel for me. I mean, it must be so hard, seeing him with my cousin like that. After he broke my heart and all. But he just fell in love with Celia, you see. And she really is his perfect match.’
Owen stared at her for a second, not sure if she was being sarcastic or not. Then he caught the glint in her eye. And he started to laugh. Couldn’t help it, and the knot of tension loosened again.
Bella smiled too. ‘I can see the funny side. I can. But they all think he broke up with me. They just can’t believe that I’d have ditched him. It’s beyond their comprehension that someone like me would have thrown away a catch like him.’
It soothed him no end to hear she’d been the one to dump the jerk. ‘Does what they think really matter so much?’
‘Maybe it shouldn’t.’ She looked at her clear plate. ‘But it does.’
‘Why?’
‘I just want them to respect me.’ She pushed back her chair and stood. ‘I want them to respect what I do.’
Owen stood, picked up his plate and headed after her. He could see some of the problem. It might be hard, for the conservative type her family seemed to be, to respect someone who wore a Walt Disney dress and drove a car called Bubbles.
He followed her back inside, down the stairs, struggling with the fact his desire for her wasn’t abating at all. How was he going to manoeuvre this the way he wanted? Could he really do patience?
‘So what was the best bit of the day?’ He put his plate on the bench, near where she now stood, filling the sink with hot water and detergent. ‘Assuming there was a best bit.’
She turned and smiled then, a brilliant, genuine smile that made him snatch a quick breath.
‘Seeing my sister so happy.’
Bella could see she’d surprised him. She rinsed the plates and pots and stacked them in the dishwasher. She felt a bit embarrassed about all she’d just unloaded—but once she’d started babbling she couldn’t stop and it meant there weren’t those heavy silences. The last thing she’d wanted was to sound like some little girl whining about her family not taking her seriously. She was hard to take seriously because she did tend to make stupid mistakes. But that didn’t mean that what she did contribute wasn’t worthwhile.
She certainly hadn’t meant to harp on about Rex. Celia could have him. She honestly didn’t want him. He wasn’t her type at all. And based on what she could see around she was determined to think Owen wasn’t either. People who had this kind of success were conservative, weren’t they? They worked hard, played safe, climbed to the top—from the looks of things Owen was definitely at the top. And conservative people just didn’t ‘get’ Bella. No wonder he’d skipped out as soon as he could. No wonder he was Mr Reluctant now. She refused to embarrass him by throwing herself at him. She would be nice, polite, not make a fool of herself—any more than she already had. But she couldn’t help appreciating his closeness as he sorted out the dishwasher and switched it on.
‘I’m really tired,’ she said. ‘It’s been quite a day.’
‘Sure has,’ he agreed—those soft, gentle tones again like on the beach as they’d headed to her studio.
Heart thudding, she turned, quickly, awkwardly, to head to her room. But just as she was about to leave it hit her how kind he’d been. He hadn’t lectured her about her many mishaps of the day, hadn’t teased her mercilessly as her family and friends would have. He’d just accepted it. Dealt with it. Helped her.
And she really appreciated it.
She turned back, still feeling completely awkward. ‘Owen, thank you,’ she began formally.
He walked up to her then and, now she’d looked up at him, he captured her gaze with his—with the vivid intensity of it. He put a finger on her lips and she was held fast.
‘Leave it. It’s not a problem.’
Like a statue she stood, mesmerised once more, filled with the memory of how well they’d fitted together. How wonderful his body had felt. How much she’d like to feel it again.
His focus dropped, flickered over her face and then lower. His finger followed, leaving her mouth to touch the hollow just below her collarbone, brushing back her blouse to reveal the skin. ‘Is this new?’
What? Oh, the unicorn, the fake tattoo she always wore for parties. She put one on all the kids too. It was part of the fairy ritual.
‘It’s temporary,’ she whispered. She didn’t know why she was whispering, it was just that her voice wouldn’t go any louder as his thumb smoothly stroked the small spot.
And at her words a touch of seriousness dulled the gleam in his eyes. A half-smile curved one side of his mouth, but it wasn’t one of tease or wicked intent. He stepped back. ‘Sleep well.’
Disappointment wafted through her. So he wasn’t interested. It had been a night of craziness for him and not one he wanted to repeat. For now she was back in his life but only, like her tattoo, temporary.
What had happened today mi
ght not be a problem for him. But it was for her.
