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Tara’s throat constricted. Her breasts were aching and the syrupy heat between her thighs was making her wish he’d start touching her there again. She wished he hadn’t stopped. That he’d just carried on with what he’d been doing and ravished her right there, in the dining room. She might have only had sex once before, but she badly wanted to do it again. She wanted to be carried along on an unstoppable tide of passion like the first time—she didn’t want to have to make a decision about her actions.
But that was naïve—and short-sighted. She couldn’t regard sex like candy—something she could just take when she felt like it. Not when there were so many issues they still hadn’t addressed. Wouldn’t that be totally irresponsible? There were a baby and a future to think of.
And without that baby she wouldn’t be here in his arms like this, would she? She would be back home in Ireland while Lucas carried on with the rest of his life without her.
‘No,’ she said, shrugging his hands from her shoulders and taking a step backwards, even though her quivering skin still seemed to bear the delicious imprint of his fingers. With firm fingers she pulled the front of her robe together and knotted the belt tightly. ‘This is not going to happen.’
His expression told her he didn’t believe her. To be honest, she couldn’t quite believe it herself.
‘Are you serious?’ he demanded.
‘That’s the whole point, Lucas,’ she said, and suddenly her voice acquired a note of urgency as she stared into his beautiful face. ‘I am. Very serious. I mean, what precisely are you offering me here?’
The flattening of his mouth told its own story. A cynical indication that he now found himself on familiar territory—that these were female demands being thrown at him, something which had been happening all his life. ‘I should have thought it was perfectly obvious what I’m offering you, Tara,’ he said. ‘Sex, pure and simple. Because the bottom line is that we still want each another—surely you’re not going to deny that?’
No. She couldn’t deny what was obviously the truth—not when her nipples were pushing insistently against her robe, and his frustrated gaze indicated that their silent plea hadn’t gone unnoticed.
‘So why not capitalise on that?’ he continued, with silky assurance. ‘Stay with me here in New York and be my lover?’
The passing seconds seemed to drag into minutes as his words sank in. ‘Your lover?’ she verified slowly, thinking it was an inaccurate description when there was no actual love involved.
‘Sure. It makes perfect sense. I can make sure you look after yourself and we can enjoy some pretty incredible downtime.’ He gave a slow smile as his gaze travelled to the tiny pulse which was hammering at her neck. ‘What’s not to like?’
The fact he had to ask was telling, but Tara reminded herself that Lucas had never been known for his sensitivity to other people’s feelings. She told herself he wasn’t trying to insult her, or hurt her—he was just doing what he always did and taking what he wanted. And right now he wanted sex.
Perhaps if she’d been a different kind of woman she might have agreed. If she’d been worldly-wise she might have smiled contentedly and sealed the deal in the master bedroom of this luxury hotel suite. But not only was she inexperienced, she was also afraid. Afraid she would read more into physic
al intimacy than Lucas ever intended. Afraid of falling under his spell as she’d seen so many other women do and then being heartbroken when he tired of her, as inevitably he would. After all, this passion had happened so suddenly—it was likely to end just as abruptly, even if he hadn’t already had a track record for short-lived affairs.
She still knew so little about him. He was the father of her child yet she didn’t have a clue what his own childhood had been like, because he’d never told her. Just as he hadn’t told her what—if any—role he wanted to play in their baby’s life. Wasn’t the sensible thing to do to stay here and address all these issues in a calm and collected way? Not let desire warp her judgement and threaten to turn her into an emotional wreck.
‘Yes, I will stay here,’ she said slowly and then, before he could touch her again and make her resolve waver, she started backing towards the door. ‘But not as your lover, although I will continue to be your housekeeper.’
‘My...housekeeper?’ he repeated blankly.
‘Why not? That was the role you originally offered me, before—’
‘Before you spent the night in my bed?’ he growled.
‘It wasn’t the whole night, Lucas. I left shortly after two a.m., if you remember.’ She cleared her throat and forged on. ‘If you’re moving into an apartment you’ll need someone in post here and nobody knows the job better than me. It’ll allow us to get to know one another better and to think about what’s best for the future.’
‘Wow,’ he said sarcastically. ‘That sounds like fun.’
She told herself afterwards that he could have tried to persuade her otherwise, but he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. Maybe he was already having second thoughts. As he stood silhouetted against the Manhattan skyline, he seemed to symbolise cool, dark composure—while she felt churned-up, misplaced and frustrated.
‘I’d just like us to be honest with each other. You know. Open and transparent. Surely that’s not too much to ask?’ But her voice was a dying croak and her cheeks burning hot, as she turned away from his mocking gaze and fled from the dining room.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘TARA.’ LUCAS SUCKED in an impatient breath. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
A bright clump of hair was falling untidily into her eyes as the apartment door swung open and Tara stepped inside, dumping two bulging bags of groceries on the floor right by his feet.
‘I’m bringing home the shopping,’ she answered. ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’
With a snort of something which felt like rage, Lucas picked up the bags and carried them into the kitchen, aware that she was following him and that his temper was building in a way which was becoming annoying familiar. He waited until he had planted the hessian sacks in the centre of the large table before turning round to confront her. She could be so stubborn! So infuriatingly hard-working! Maybe it had been a mistake to move out of the luxury hotel and into a place of his own, so that Tara could resume her housekeeper duties—especially if she was going to keep up this kind of pace. But she had insisted, hadn’t she? Had set her lips in a firm and determined line, and Lucas had found himself going along with her wishes.
‘You shouldn’t be carrying heavy weights,’ he objected.
