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He was about to respond when the waiter brought their entrée. Her thinly sliced ham on a bed of apple and celeriac was exquisite. Opposite her, Damion attacked his own lobster salad with a relish that reminded her of his huge appetite. Watching his hands as he deftly forked food into his mouth, Reiko felt familiar heat invade her belly.
She lowered her gaze to her plate, a shaft of pain slicing through her at the fruitlessness of her feelings.
Even if there were the remotest chance of a physical relationship with a member of the opposite sex, the man sitting before her would not be her prime choice. Damion Fortier appreciated beauty and perfection. She’d been stunned five years ago when he’d shown an interest in her. Of course the reason why had eventually revealed itself. Like a gullible fool, she’d let him brush aside her initial scepticism, drawn to him with an intensity she’d found impossible to fight.
His every choice of female since he’d walked away from her attested to the fact that she had been a fluke—a step outside his normal circle, which he’d always intended to return to
.
No, Damion would never be given the chance to see her physical scars or glimpse the emotional wasteland that had ravaged her soul.
‘Is this how you’re hoping to convince me to trust you?’ His question broke through her agonising thoughts.
‘What?’
‘You asked me to trust you but your intentions in attending my exhibition put that theory to the test.’
‘Finding your painting is my priority. Everything else is secondary. I give you my word.’
He stared at her for an interminable minute. Then he nodded. ‘Bien.’ He extended his hand. ‘Shall we shake on it?’
Reiko swallowed and stared at the large masculine hand in front of her. When she glanced back at him, the look in his eyes shifted, and a gleam that made her hackles rise passed through the grey depths before the veneer of civility slid back into place.
‘I’ve already promised to be on my best behaviour, Baron.’
‘But a handshake is much more … professional than Scouts’ honour, n’est ce pas?’
His firm reasoning didn’t ease her anxiety. Inhaling, she set her fork down and tentatively placed her hand in his.
The heat from his touch singed all the way to her toes. When she tried to free herself, he held her for a few seconds longer before releasing her.
After that he turned into the perfect host.
Reiko eventually dared to relax a little, allowed the tension to ease out of her body.
Until he reached out and brushed back her fringe. Her skin burned at the laser-like focus of his gaze on her face.
‘How did you get that scar on your temple?’ he rasped.
CHAPTER FIVE
SHE JERKED BACK from his touch. Her crystal glass sloshed water onto the pristine white tablecloth as she set it down unsteadily. ‘Excuse me?’
‘It’s a simple question, Reiko.’
‘It’s also a very personal question. Hell, for all you know it might even border on the sentimental! Are you sure you want to dip your toe in those treacherous waters?’
Damion’s eyes glittered with a determination that made her insides clench.
‘I’m willing to take that chance.’
Every bone in her body fought against lifting her hand to check that her temple wasn’t exposed, that the thin scar tissue burning with its exposure was covered. Reiko felt her lips tremble and fought for control.
‘I’m not. Anyway, how would you like it if I asked you an extremely personal question?’ she demanded in a voice far shakier than she’d prefer.
‘Answer mine and I’ll give you a chance to ask yours.’
She froze in stunned surprise. ‘Are you serious?’
