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‘Why don’t you want me to touch you?’
‘I can’t,’ she murmured, staring down at her clasped hands. ‘I can’t do this any more.’
He thrust his hands into his pockets, shook his head. ‘Why not?’
She shook her head furiously, the tears falling freely now. Of course, his logical, dispassionate nature would want to solve the problem. But she couldn’t tell him. And have the last of her defences shattered.
‘For God’s sake, Ruby. You’re crying!’ He sounded horrified. ‘What is it?’ He took her chin in his fingers, lifted her face. ‘You have to tell me so we can sort it out.’
‘We can’t sort it out. I have to sort it out on my own.’
‘Why?’
She gulped down a sob and let go. ‘Because I’ve fallen in love with you. And I know you can’t love me back.’
The words dropped out into silence and she felt him go still. His hand dropped from her face. And her heart shattered all over again.
He swore under his breath.
She forced her chin up, brushed aside the errant tears that had escaped. ‘It’s all right, Cal. You don’t have to say anything.’
The sea-green gaze searched her face. ‘What makes you think you love me?’ he asked, sounding stunned.
Pride kicked in at last, her spine straightening as she forced herself to smile. She patted his cheek, felt the familiar rasp of stubble. She’d said too much. Far too much. She needed to get out of here now. So she could go home and lick her wounds in private with at least a little of her dignity intact.
‘Don’t look so worried, Big Guy,’ she said jauntily, giving an award-worthy performance. ‘You’re not the first. And you certainly won’t be the last.’
But as she walked past him he grasped her wrist. ‘Ruby, don’t go like this.’ He hesitated, and for the first time since she’d met him she realised he was lost for words. ‘I didn’t mean to … Can we please talk about this?’
She forced a smile to her lips, but couldn’t make herself meet his eyes. ‘Don’t be silly. It’s not that big a deal.’ She tugged her hand out of his grasp. ‘I’ll get over it. I always do.’
She heard his whispered curse above the sound of the salsa drums as she walked away, pathetically grateful that the tears cascading down her cheeks were masked by the moonlight.
CHAPTER TWENTY
CAL rapped his fountain pen against the desk as the tightly spaced type of the witness statement he was supposed to be reading bounced in front of his eyes. The hammer clicks of the pen sounded like machine-gun fire, and weren’t making it any easier for him to concentrate. But he couldn’t seem to keep still.
‘Would you like me to contact Brady about the Carvelli witness?’
He glanced up at his clerk Terry’s careful question. ‘What?’
‘The Carvelli witness.’ Terry nodded towards the document in his hand. ‘The one whose statement you’ve been reading for the last twenty minutes,’ he prompted.
Cal stared blankly for several seconds, trying to will his mind to engage. ‘No,’ he said at last, when it resolutely refused to obey his command.
He put the papers down on his desk, caught his reflection in the varnished mahogany surface and sucked in a breath.
Sights, sounds and sensations flooded through his system—as they’d been doing far too frequently in the past week.
Ruby’s full breasts heaving against the confining apron, her soft sobs echoing in his ear, her body clasped tight around his as he came—all wrapped in the scent of vanilla sponge cake, icing sugar and sex. Ruby’s eyes meeting his, rising to any challenge.
‘Let’s do this tomorrow, Terry.’ He pulled at the collar of his shirt, which felt as if it were strangling him.
Terry looked at him a moment, clearly torn. ‘But the trial starts tomorrow and we haven’t—’
‘I know, I’ll handle it.’
Terry nodded slowly, as if he were trying to placate a wild beast, then gathered up his papers and left. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him Cal hurled the pen across the room and watched it ricochet against the oak panelling.
