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But it wasn’t like any of the earlier times. Because then, she knew, with a hollowing of her insides, it had been no effort at all to say no to what was on offer. Whereas now...
I don’t want to say no to him...
The words were in her head before she could stop them, forcing themselves into her consciousness. For the first time she had finally encountered a man to whom her customary rejection to all males was not easy and effortless to make. For the first time she had encountered a man to whom she did not want to say no.
She wanted to give a completely different answer...an answer that was singing in her blood, that had leapt in her eyes the very first moment she had seen him, that was making her want to do nothing more than let her eyes gaze at him, soak him up. Her nerves were tingling in every limb, her heart was beating that much faster, her breathing was unsteady...
Then harsh reality sounded in her head.
But it’s no good! I have to say no! I have to say no to Rafael Sanguardo. Because I always have to say no.
How could she ever say anything else when that clinging trail of slime still left its fetid trace across her skin...would always do so...?
I can’t escape the past—what I did. And I can never be free of it—never! So what else can I say to any man except no...
And that was exactly what she was going to do now. Make herself do.
‘I have to be completely honest with you,’ she ploughed on. She was looking at him full in the face and he sat back, a veiled look in his eyes. ‘This isn’t personal, I assure you, but it wouldn’t be fair of me to let you think that having dinner like this is in any way...um...well, a date—because it isn’t.’
‘Why not?’ The question cut across her hesitant explication. It was asked with an air of casual curiosity. The veiled look was still in his eyes.
‘Well, because—’ She stopped.
‘Yes?’ One dark eyebrow quirked. He picked up his wine glass, holding it in long fingers but not drinking from it. He looked relaxed, unfazed by what she was saying.
‘Because I just don’t do this stuff, that’s why,’ she said bluntly.
‘Ah, “stuff”,’ he repeated with an air of discovery. ‘That’s very enlightening. Do, please, elaborate.’
She took a breath. ‘Like I said, it isn’t personal, but I’ve made it a rule not to...to... Well, to do what I’m doing now, I guess. Or,’ she added pointedly, ‘anything else!’
‘Such as champagne breakfasts in bed?’
‘Yes!’
Rafael responded ruminatively. ‘Well, I can understand why, if you move in a world populated by the likes of Karl Reiner, you have that rule, and I regard it as entirely sensible. But, Celeste...’
Now his eyes were unveiled, and she reeled from the expression in them that blazed like a searing fire.
‘I am not cut from that cloth, and therefore you have absolutely nothing to be wary of in that respect. I had hoped you’d realised that already, but if I have to make it even clearer then I shall!’
‘It isn’t that. I don’t think you’re anything like Creepy Karl. It’s just—’
‘Yes?’
He was back to veiling his gaze again, waiting to hear what she said next. She looked away a moment. Only a glance into the restaurant beyond her. But it went a lot further than that.
Back through time...
Then, slowly, she brought her gaze back to his face.
‘I don’t date,’ she said. ‘I don’t date and I don’t have relationships. Or romances. Or affairs. Or whatever you want to call them. I just...don’t.’
She could hear the silence. Hear it stretching between them. Keeping them apart.
She saw him set down his wine glass, straighten in his seat, lean towards her. He reached a hand out and covered one of hers, still lying palm-down on the tablecloth. His hand felt warm and strong. He held it for a few seconds only, then released it. It felt cold, suddenly, without his there.
