AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘We—I—’ But it was too late; he was taking her brief moment of honest bewilderment as a clear admission of guilt. With a rough exclamation of angry disgust he dropped her arm as if it were contaminated, but freedom was no longer her prime concern and, although she edged to the door, she didn’t leave. She couldn’t, not with her professional as well as personal reputation at stake.
It wouldn’t do for him to go rampaging off to spew his vile allegations in front of anyone else. Poor Peter would be shocked, embarrassed and hurt—not only at the suggestion that he was her sugar daddy, but at the implication that he was being played for a fool. She knew from bitter experience how sensitive an old man’s pride could be to any hint of incompetence. If he was confronted about it, his relationship with his nephew might be irretrievably damaged, and the innocent pleasure he took in Emily’s companionship for ever tainted. For Peter’s sake, as well as her own, she at least had to make an effort to explain, even if she had little confidence in making any headway against Ethan’s determined prejudice.
‘Look,’ she said, choking back her resentment and drawing on the deep well of patience that made her so good at her job, ‘your uncle and I enjoy talking together, that’s al
l. He’s been tremendously kind. What you saw—it was completely innocent—a casual expression of gratitude that you misinterpreted…’
His cruel mouth tightened, and she instantly comprehended her mistake. Pointing out that the onus for the whole nasty situation was on him was not likely to placate his arrogant self-certainty.
Sure enough, he was quick to slip the blade in: ‘What was it I heard you saying to Peter? “I love you, too”…’ he quoted in a sticky-sweet, velvet-dark drawl that caressed her senses and jolted her into wondering what it would feel like to hear him say the words with ardent sincerity.
Don’t even go there, Emily!
‘That’s hardly something that can be misinterpreted; unless, of course, you were lying—just saying what you thought he wanted to hear,’ he added with that corrosive cynicism she so disliked.
‘You’re taking it out of context,’ she said, holding gamely onto her temper in the face of his intransigence. She felt a very strong affection for Peter, but it was demeaning to both of them to be forced to quantify it. ‘I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression, but I can assure you that you certainly did.’ Eyeing his dangerously attractive face, she felt a rush of nervous apprehension, and it suddenly seemed imperative to get him out of the bedroom. ‘Perhaps you might feel more inclined to listen over your cup of coffee…’
She turned to lead the way, but his hand shot out to slam flat against the door jamb, creating a sloping barrier with his braced arm that she would have to be a limbo dancer to evade.
‘Exactly what—is—your—game?’ he demanded softly in her ear, seeming more suspicious than ever at her conciliatory manner.
She backed her shoulders to the smooth face of the open door, shaking her head, her cropped curls bouncing in sharp denial. ‘I don’t play games.’
His face tautened with predatory triumph. ‘Oh, Emily, we both know that for a damned lie!’
He lifted a hand suddenly towards her face and she flinched, hitting the back of her head against the polished wood.
‘Ouch!’
His eyes darkened to grey steel as his hand continued its threatening rise until his middle finger touched the smooth skin above her left eyebrow. He rubbed firmly and drew it away again, revealing the blackened swirl of his fingerprint to her tear-stung eyes.
‘You had a black speck on your face,’ he said, erasing the smudge with a roll of his finger and thumb. ‘It fell out of your hair when you shook your head.’
‘It must be soot,’ she said, whisking at the place he had touched, which was now tingling as if the fleck of carbon had been a live ember. ‘I’ve been at my house this morning. The house that burned down,’ she emphasised. She rubbed at the tender spot on the back of her head. ‘Ouch!’
‘You shouldn’t have been so skittish. What did you think I was going to do?’ he asked, showing his first thread of genuine amusement—at her expense.
‘Oh, I don’t know, you had cold blue murder in your eyes…throttle me, perhaps?’ she tossed at him with furious sarcasm.
‘How very mundane of me. And stuff your body where?’ he asked drily.
Her eyes fell on the bed beyond him and she blushed. His glance tracked hers and his eyebrows rose as he looked back at her with a tormenting smile.
‘Under the bed…or in it?’ His silky question brought more blood scorching to her face. ‘Is that one of the sex games you like to play? To be throttled by your lover? I understand it can intensify an orgasm to an addictive degree.’
‘I never—That’s—You have a very perverted mind.’ Emily gasped, scrubbing harder at her head to get rid of the invasive image of Ethan West lying on top of her on the white bed, his big hands wrapped around her, holding her down while his nude body thrust relentlessly between her thighs, driving her to intense completion.
‘And you don’t? You’re blushing like a Deep Secret.’
‘I don’t have any deep secrets,’ Emily lied, disorientated by his further descent into the realms of bizarre.
‘It’s a hybrid tea rose,’ he explained, his eyes on her blooming cheeks, ‘one of the darkest of all the reds.’
‘Oh…’ While she grappled with the mind-boggling idea of this stone-hard man knowing anything about flowers, he leaned forward, one arm still braced across the doorway, the other sliding around to the nape of her neck.
‘You’re going to bruise yourself doing that. Let me see what you’ve done to yourself…’
‘No, I—’
