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He stared at her unblinkingly and she felt her pulse plateau. He was stupidly handsome, and being so close to him was making her stupid. Why else would she feel so frantic to kiss him? Her cheeks were hot and, desperate to stop the woman in her responding to his blatant masculinity, she switched into waitress mode.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t ask. Did you want anything?’ She couldn’t resist. ‘White coffee? Sorry, I mean black.’
There was a short, quivering silence and then, tilting his head, he gave her a long, steady look. He shook his head. ‘No, thanks. I’m trying to cut back.’ The corners of his eyes creased. ‘Just in case you didn’t notice—that was unscripted.’
She looked up at him uncertainly. His mood seemed to have lightened and she could feel herself responding, her tension easing, so that for one off-balance moment she wanted to smile. And to see him smile back.
Except that if he smiled she was scared of what might happen. A smile might seem innocuous. Like tiptoeing onto a frozen lake. But at some point the ice would crack and suddenly she would be out of her depth.
Feeling his eyes on her face, she looked up and met his gaze coolly. At least she hoped she looked cool. She certainly didn’t want him guessing her real thoughts.
‘I’m not trying to be difficult,’ she said slowly. ‘Truly. But you’re treating this—us—like some kind of equation. We can’t pull this off by just joining all the dots. We need to try and make our relationship feel as natural as possible. And that’s not going to happen if we just sit here parroting facts to one another.’
It had to be the strangest conversation she had ever had. Only in some ways, wasn’t it liberating to be able to talk so openly about what she wanted? About what it would take to make their relationship work? With all her previous boyfriends she’d just tried to second-guess everything and failed. Spectacularly. But because she wasn’t in love with Rollo, and never would be, she didn’t care about speaking her mind.
Half expecting him to argue with her, she was surprised when instead, he nodded.
‘That makes sense.’
He sounded interested—friendly, even—and as something like panic bubbled up inside her she realised too late that being near him had been a lot easier when all she had felt was hostility.
Particularly given that he clearly deserved her hostility.
Or she’d thought he had.
But as his eyes drifted gently over her skin like a haze of summer heat she realised that his charm was something she hadn’t allowed herself to imagine. And, glancing up into his face, watching his beautiful hard features soften, she knew why: it was too dangerous! Especially when that almost smile was making it impossible for her to think rationally, so that suddenly she felt unsure of herself, unsure of how she should respond.
He was lounging against the worktop, his eyes watching her intently in a way that she didn’t fully understand. All she knew was that it made her feel hot and helplessly wound up.
‘We can make this work, Daisy.’
She nodded, panic muting her.
‘It’s very new for both of us. Try and think of it as just another job.’
Frowning, she found her voice. ‘But it’s not like that at all. When I’m acting I learn my lines and get into character. But only when I’m on stage. I don’t act like Lady Macbeth at home.’
His gaze was steady and unblinking. ‘That’s a relief,’ he said softly.
His voice sent goosebumps over her skin and she felt a sharp, gnawing heat inside, like the first flames of a forest fire. She knew she had blushed and she wanted to look away, but she couldn’t move. Instead she held her breath, heart hammering, trying to quiet the turmoil in her body.
Breathing out, she said quickly, ‘It’s just... We’re supposed to be madly in love.’
Something shifted in the room—a loosening of tension like the wind dropping. For a moment they stared at one another, and then his hand came up, his fingers smoothing over her cheeks, his touch firm yet tender.
‘Supposed to be, yes.’ His hand dropped and he took a step back, his green eyes shadowed and still.
She swallowed, her breath cartwheeling inside her chest. ‘So we need some...’ She paused.
She’d been about to say romance, or passion. But passion was clearly a complication she didn’t need to introduce into their relationship. Not if her body’s intense but dangerous response to him was anything to go by. And, as for romance, she wasn’t sure he actually understood the meaning of the word.
She frowned. ‘We need to have some fun.’
His mouth curved. ‘Fun?’
Daisy gazed at him. Was that an alien concept to him too?
‘Yes. Fun. We need fun. Not facts. Let’s get out of here and go somewhere we can talk and chill.’
