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Well, in that case, his wish was about to come true. Biting her lip, she looked up into his hard and handsome face, trying to tell herself that this was all for the best, even if it felt as if her heart was breaking in two. ‘Well, anyway—all that’s irrelevant now. I’ve…well, it’s good news really,’ she said.
‘Oh?’
‘I think…’ She swallowed down the terrible feeling of loss which had washed over her and presented him with a resolute face instead. ‘I’d like someone take me ashore please, Carlos.’ She met the cool question in his eyes but she didn’t flinch, even though the unbearable intimacy of what she was about to say made her cheeks turn hot. ‘That is unless you happen to carry sanitary protection on board.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AN ATMOSPHERE like a heavy blanket greeted her announcement and Kat insisted on being ferried ashore as quickly as possible. She just wanted to get away from the yacht—and away from the cool indifference with which Carlos had greeted the news that there wasn’t going to be a baby.
‘I’ll take you,’ he told her, as she appeared back on deck after packing her bags, her face set and her mouth composed in a thin line.
But Kat shook her head. And have her breaking down and making a complete fool of herself in front of all the jet set milling around the port at Antibes? Risk telling him how empty her life was going to feel without him—or even worse, beg him to let her stay?
‘No,’ she said, and wobbled him an attempt at a smile. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t. ‘It’s better this way, Carlos. We’re both relieved at the outcome, you know we are.’ So why did her heart feel as if someone had taken a dagger to it and driven a gaping great wound into its centre?
‘Sí,’ he said slowly. ‘You are right. It is better this way.’
Her voice was determinedly bright. ‘Well, then, there’s nothing more to be said, is there?’
He let his eyes drift over her, taking in the soft skin and the beautiful lips—and the eyes which were as blue as a Mediterranean sky. ‘Except that it was a pretty amazing affair while it lasted,’ he observed softly.
‘Yes. Yes, it was.’ Was this what he usually said—his farewell line? A whole script prepared to ease the pain of the parting, cleverly couched to sound almost tender, but cautious enough not to whip up any false hope. And suddenly Kat knew she couldn’t face anything which masqueraded as tenderness, because that would just make this parting even more unbearable. Her fingers clenching into a fist over the handle of her bag, she stared up at him. ‘But it’s over now.’
Carlos had never been left quite so swiftly nor so efficiently by a woman before. Come to think of it, it was always him that did the leaving. Hadn’t he wondered whether Kat might try and drag it out a bit longer, digging in her delectable heels and intimating that she had no desire for their affair to end? Well, she hadn’t—and once again she had confounded all his expectations. His eyes narrowed. And maybe she was right. Maybe it really was better this way.
Leaning over, he planted the briefest of kisses on her trembling lips just as Mike appeared from the galley.
‘Look after her,’ said Carlos abruptly, and turned and walked away.
Kat’s heart sank as she watched his retreating back, but what had she expected? That he might stand there watching her wave a dinky little hanky as the speedboat put more and more distance between them? Why, he was probably heaving a huge sigh of relief—like a man who had just been relieved of a mighty burden.
She felt slightly ill as she stepped ashore, where Carlos had a car waiting for her, and was startled by a sudden blue flash.
‘I think somebody just took my photo,’ she said in confusion.
‘Oh, there’s always paparazzi hanging around here,’ said Mike with a shrug, as he hauled out her bags and put them on the quayside. And then, to her surprise, he enveloped her in a brief bear hug. ‘We’re going to miss you,’ he said gruffly. ‘You’ve done good.’
The farewell only added to her highly emotional state and, once Mike had gone, she clambered into the back of the car, directing it to stop at a pharmacie. And afterwards she was whisked to a nearby airstrip, where Carlos had arranged for a jet to fly her to London.
As soon as she’d touched down, her cellphone started ringing, with her father on the other end of the line.
‘Kat,’ he said gruffly. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m…fine,’ she answered warily. ‘Why?’
‘I’ve just had Carlos Guerrero on the phone.’
For a moment she froze as the Spaniard’s dark and golden features danced provocatively in her mind. ‘What…what did he say?’
‘Just that he was very pleased with you.’
‘He…he did?’
‘He certainly did. Said that you seemed to have been cured of your tendency to run away from problems, that you seemed to have learned the meaning of the word commitment, and that I should be very pleased with you. Oh, and he also advised me to let you have use of the London flat and start paying your allowance again.’
The breath which she only just realised she had been holding escaped from Kat’s lips with a sigh. But really, what had she expected? That Carlos would tell her father that he’d become incredibly close to her during the voyage? Or that he’d realised he didn’t want to live without her? As if it was some old-fashioned scenario and he was ringing to ask her father for permission to carry on seeing her!
When the reality was that all Carlos cared about were the stupid rules—which were what the two men had colluded about in the first place. And didn’t her father’s words reinforce the fact that the Spaniard may have taken her to his bed, but inside he still regarded her as a spoilt little girl who needed her allowance to be doled out?
