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More than teasing, Celeste could see, and the realisation did not chill her—it froze her.
It was inviting.
Words formed in her head. Stark, sharp, and carved into her consciousness.
She wants him back.
* * *
Rafael pulled his bow tie clear, dropping it down on the dresser, and slid the top button of his dress shirt open. He stretched his neck, loosening his muscles, profoundly glad to be back in his apartment. It hadn’t been an easy evening...
Madeline’s calculatedly dramatic entrance had not come as a complete surprise—she’d taunted him, and he’d half expected she would try something on. Her anger would have driven her to it.
Anger because he had sought out the broke and discarded Lucien Fevre and set him back on his feet again. Even more anger because what Lucien was now producing was even better than his earlier work—work that could have been hers had she not treated him so callously when she’d acquired his debt-ridden company.
But something good had come out of her coup de théâtre. He’d got Madeline to apologise to Lucien. It didn’t matter that the apology had been insincere, as he knew very well that it had. Madeline made a point of never regretting her past actions.
He knew that better than anyone alive...
For a moment Rafael felt his skin crawl. He moved restlessly, picking up his discarded tie and hooking it inside his closet. From the en suite bathroom he could hear the sound of the shower running. His expression changed, lightened. Something even better had come out of the evening than just Madeline’s apology to a man she had treated harshly.
Seeing Madeline with Celeste could not have emphasised to him more the complete difference between them! Even if Madeline had not been what she was, he would never, never prefer her to Celeste! It was Celeste who drew his eye, Celeste who made his pulse quicken, Celeste whose rare, pale beauty made his breath catch!
How did I ever desire Madeline? How could I ever have thought her anything other than overblown and obvious? How was I ever enthralled by her?
He shook his head, disposing of a comparison that was not needed. Madeline was nothing to him—less than nothing—and Celeste...ah, Celeste was everything!
Even as he thought it he realised the shower had stopped and the bathroom door was opening. She emerged, her hair pinned up on her head and a cotton bathrobe wrapped around her. Even in such unromantic garb she took his breath away!
He went up to her, his expression warm, and kissed her cheek, cupping her elbows with his hands.
‘Thank you,’ he said, his eyes as warm as his voice.
She looked at him questioningly.
He released her. ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘for getting through this evening as beautifully as you did. Thank you for behaving with grace and dignity—and kindness.’ He looked at her. ‘Kindness to Lucien. You saw instantly how unnerved he was, and you stepped in to help him through it.’
‘I was glad to,’ she said.
He nodded. Then took a breath. ‘And thank you, too, Celeste, for something even more.’ He paused, looked her in the eye. ‘Thank you for coping with Madeline Walters.’ He took another breath. ‘Although I knew she wasn’t going to be pleased with what I’ve done for Lucien—I’ll fill you in on the whole sorry saga later—I hope you will believe that I didn’t quite anticipate her showstopper.’
Celeste looked troubled. ‘I’m so sorry I enabled her to get in like that—’
‘Don’t be. If it hadn’t been you it would have been someone else. Madeline is unstoppable when she sets her mind to something.’
Celeste’s gaze faltered.
And if that something is you, Rafael, is she unstoppable then?
But she did not say it. Could not.
Rafael was shrugging off his tuxedo jacket, followed by his dress shirt. Celeste sat down in front of the vanity unit and busied herself letting down her hair and starting to brush it out. Her thoughts were troubled, uneasy.
