AllFreeNovel
Share Us
'Nothing.' She buried her nose hurriedly in her cup.
'Nothing? You mean, you don't remember.'
She scowled. 'I remember what we didn't do.'
'Only because I was too much of a gentleman to take advantage of your kind offer,' he said smugly.
'You, a gentleman!' Her snicker hurt the back of her eyes and she rested her head momentarily on her shoulder, unaware that the hunching movement made her neckline dip alarmingly, enticingly.
'Darling,' came the purring answer, 'you batted your eyelashes at me, and draped and nestled and nudged like a little kitten wanting to be petted. And I said, ask me again in the morning. Are you going to follow through, Princess, and bless me with your royal favours?'
'Go to hell,' she snarled wretchedly, not wanting to dwell on her brandy-induced w
antonness of the night before. He was taking shameless advantage of her hangover and if she weren't so weak she would make him regret it.
'I can't do that, I'm afraid, Frankie. Not until we've finished our little talk. You passed out on me last night just as things were getting interesting.'
Fran's stomach somersaulted. Her memory was fragmentary, but she had a sinking feeling she had really let it all hang out. 'Please, can't we leave it until later? I'm really feeling pretty rotten.' She nibbled forlornly on another triangle of toast, making her eyes as big and as shamelessly mournful as she could manage.
He grinned. 'No dice, Frankie.' He folded his arms across his chest, swivelling sideways on the bed so that he loomed over her shrinking Figure. 'You were saying something about lying about the boys... about there being only me. Were you, by any chance, referring to those classy dates of yours that you compared me so unfavourably with?'
He waited patiently until she had finished all the toast and let her fiddle with her coffee cup for a long minute before he demonstrated his determination. 'Francesca,' he said silkily, 'shall I fetch the brandy?'
The very thought made her pale.
'You're not in the best physical condition at the moment and it wouldn't take much effort to hold you down while I pour the stuff down your throat,' he said with cruel relish. 'When you're drunk you're very suggestible, and it doesn't seem to take much to turn you on your ear. In fact, I think I like you tipsy, Princess, falling all over me, trying to pull off my clothes...'
'I didn't!'
He grinned at her, and took the cup from her nerveless fingers.
'Beast,' she protested half-heartedly as he bent to put the cup on the floor.
His grin faded. 'Frankie, it started out as a bet, but I really liked you...'
'Sure. Look, Ross, it was a long time ago, I don't see that it needs dragging up again. For God's sake, we were children!' she burst out. Humiliations, like fears, were best forgotten.
'You were a child. I was everything you accused me of being,' he astounded her by saying. 'An arrogant young punk without the guts to apologise for doing something that I knew was wrong.'
Was her hangover causing her brain to mistranslate what her ears were hearing? Francesca stared at his expression of wry self-derision, slightly open-mouthed, and highly suspicious of his motives.
Ross lent over and gently pushed her lower jaw closed. 'I'm telling you this because then we can wipe the slate clean of any old grievances that might be cluttering up our subconscious. If only you had thrown that bet in my face at the time, or if you had hung around the bike shed a bit longer: I paid up, Frankie.'
'You...?'
'I paid up.'
She believed him. Why did she believe him? Francesca was shaken by the tiny bud of delight in her breast. What on earth did it matter, after all this time? But it did, and she was acutely conscious of it as Ross continued his wry confession.
'I told the guys that I had lost the bet. That you'd come out with me, but that you'd refused to fool around. They gave me hell, but I thought it was worth it. I liked you. Why do you think that no one taunted you about it? Because I'd threatened to punch the lights out of any guy who breathed a word outside the gang... they thought it was because I didn't want anyone to know how much I'd bombed out, but it was really because I didn't want it to get in the way of our friendship... not until I'd confessed to you, although I do admit there was a large chunk of ego involved, too.' He looked at her surprise-softened grey-blue eyes and his mouth pulled down. 'Then, when you gave me that haughty put-down in front of them all and I thought that you were just a clever tease who had gone slumming for a night, I wished like hell that I hadn't made the big sacrifice, but I couldn't recant without looking more of a fool than I already did. So I pretended that I didn't care.'
'I...you did a good job,' said Francesca shakily. When he had shrugged off her insults that day she had thought it merely confirmed his shallowness. In the intensity of her hurt she had never permitted him a point of view. As far as she was concerned, he hadn't deserved one.
'So did you,' he said with a pointed smile. 'On that date you were so serious to begin with, and so shy, and then you began to open up and I had flattered myself it was because of me. And when I touched you, you were so warm and soft and shyly generous that I was touched, macho jerk that I was. You came across as innocent and yet quietly mature, and so different from the general run of girls that I dated that I felt ashamed of what I had set out to do... see how far I could go with you just for the sake of impressing a bunch of guys. I realised that it was demeaning to both of us. I wanted to stand up to your grandfather for you, but you wouldn't let me and that made me feel even worse. And then, when Monday came around, I felt incredibly betrayed—hoist with my own petard. I couldn't stomach the thought that you were laughing up your sleeve at this crude jerk who had actually presumed that you'd want to get to know him better.'
'And I thought that you and your friends were all laughing behind my back at me,' said Fran ruefully, remembering the adolescent misery of that last term with an almost affectionate nostalgia.
'I never meant to hurt you, Frankie. I guess I got my just desserts.' He smoothed a curl back from her flushed cheek. 'I had some brutal thoughts about teaching you the dangers of putting on that act of sexy, eager innocence with guys with no claim to class. But it wasn't an act, was it, Frankie?'
