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Addie stilled. ‘This is not a date, Malachi. And that kind of remark is why I’m buying lunch. So there aren’t any mixed messages.’
He grinned. ‘You know me, sweetheart. The only thing I like mixed are my cocktails. Speaking of which—at least let me buy you a drink. Do you still like Bellinis?’
She swallowed, feeling a stabbing within. And then a softness. ‘You remembered...’
His eyes never left her face. ‘Of course. I remember everything about you and our time together.’
The softness hardened and she shivered inside. Was that what their marriage had been to him? A portion of hours and days? Her heart began to beat faster.
‘Good!’ She swallowed. ‘Then you’ll remember how important my charity is to the children it helps. And, no, thank you. I don’t want a Bellini.’
He waved a hand across the table at her negligently.
‘Some wine, then? Or is my presence intoxicating enough for you?’
Tucking her legs beneath the table, Addie forced herself to meet his cool grey gaze. ‘I don’t drink at business meetings.’ she said primly.
‘Neither do I,’ agreed Malachi, lifting the glass of wine to his lips. ‘It’s very unprofessional. But fortunately I don’t class our meeting as anything other than a cause for celebration.’
She stared at him blankly. ‘Celebration! I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Of course you do.’ Beneath the restaurant’s lights his eyes looked lighter, almost silver. ‘It was you who reminded me.’ He held out his glass and tapped it against her tumbler of water. ‘Happy Anniversary, sweetheart!’
Addie felt her skin grow cold. His eyes were glittering with an emotion she didn’t fully understand and, quickly turning her head, she fixed her gaze on the view of the ocean just as their meals arrived.
The food was both delicious and beautifully presented, but Addie found it impossible to enjoy her lobster salad.
‘Even if it is our anniversary,’ she said coldly, ‘I hardly think that’s relevant to today’s discussion. Personally I’d be happier if we just stuck to the real reason why we’re both here.’
‘Of course,’ he murmured. ‘If it makes you more comfortable.’
Addie glowered at him. Comfortable! As if!
The only reason she was still sitting there was the children and her colleagues. Otherwise, had she not chosen to wear such ridiculously high heels, she would happily have turned round and run as fast as possible from that deceptively guileless face.
But breathing out slowly, she pressed her nails into the palms of her hands. At least she looked the part. Even if it had meant selling her bike. The important thing was that while she might need his help, he didn’t need to know that. She looked cool and classy and in control. Not like a woman looking for a favour.
Now all she had to do was stay focused. But, glancing across the table, she felt a pulse leap in her throat as she looked up into his glittering grey gaze.
‘You’re very quiet, sweetheart. I thought you wanted to talk?’ Lolling back against the leather upholstery, Malachi gazed at her intently.
She shrugged. ‘I was just thinking.’
‘Then I should probably be leaving!’ His eyes, light and dancing, fixed on her face even as the corners of his mouth began to tilt upwards. ‘A quiet woman is like a hand grenade. A quiet woman thinking is like a hand grenade with the pin pulled out.’
His curving smile waited for her reply and she licked her lips, her heart fluttering beneath his scrutiny.
And then, just in time, she remembered that there was an actual reason for her being there—other than just to gawp at Malachi’s cheekbones. Feeling clumsy, hoping he didn’t suspect the reason for her distracted behaviour, she pulled out a folded piece of paper from her bag and handed it to him.
‘That’s the original agreement.’
He took it and opened it. His face was impassive as he scanned the contents. Finall
y he looked up at her. ‘It’s strange, don’t you think? The two of us? Together again?’
She’d been expecting him to refer to the letter. Instead, caught off guard, she had to force down the tangled mass of emotion that reared up inside her in response both to his words and the probing focus of his eyes.
‘Th-there is no “two of us”,’ she said shakily. Her eyes darted away from him and round the room, seeking something solid and reassuring. Fixing on two burly businessmen at the bar, she felt her shoulders relax slightly. ‘And we’re not together.’
