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‘How many did you bring with you?’ Rye said softly beside her, his hand covering hers and jolting her out of her stupor.
‘About …’ she paused, tried to think with her head spinning and her heart jumping ‘… about ten, maybe.’
‘Ten is a good start. But we’ll need more. Luckily, we have a workshop in Soho with space you can use. We can supply …’
The woman’s voice faded into the distance as the drumming of Maddy’s heartbeat b
egan to deafen her. She answered the barrage of questions on autopilot, trying to breathe through the knowledge that something she’d never even dreamed of, something she would have been too scared to dream of, was actually happening.
She could make a living out of her silk work? She loved it. Had always loved it. But it had never even occurred to her that it would be good enough to sell. And not just sell. From the snippets of Ruth’s conversation she could actually process, it seemed the woman thought she could sell it at a very decent price indeed.
‘Ruth, give her a minute, she’s not committing to any of that yet.’ Rye’s sure, certain voice cut through the fog of awe and excitement. ‘We’ll get the other silk sent over tomorrow morning. When you’ve drawn up a contract—and I’ve had my solicitor look at it—and once Maddy’s had a chance to digest all this.’ Rye’s hand squeezed hers on the table. ‘Then you can talk to her again and iron out the details.’
Ruth gave an astonished laugh. ‘Why, Rye, you sound protective.’ She stood up. ‘Clearly Maddy here is even more special than I imagined.’
Rye’s hand tensed and lifted off hers as Ruth excused herself and left the annexe.
‘I can’t believe it. DeMontfort’s? It’s like a dream,’ Maddy said, excitement bubbling.
Rye gave a gruff chuckle, the moment of tension gone. ‘You deserve it. You’ve got a rare talent.’ Sitting back, he lifted the menu. ‘Now, how about we order dinner and a bottle of Dom, then grab a cab back to mine and make wild passionate love for the rest of the night to celebrate?’
Maddy giggled as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, feeling young and carefree and so in love she was sure she was about to burst.
How could he have known she wanted this, when she hadn’t even known it herself? And how could he have taken the time and trouble to make it happen if he wasn’t at least a little bit in love with her too?
Rye listened to Maddy’s breathing deepen as she lay exhausted in his arms, his body still humming from the afterglow of their passionate celebration, but his own refused to do the same. Ruth’s throwaway comment earlier played over and over again in his mind like a cracked record.
Clearly Maddy here is even more special than I imagined.
Ruth had always been remarkably perceptive. When he’d been a brash young entrepreneur of twenty-five, it was one of the things about her he’d liked the most. She’d been perceptive enough to realise their brief but passionate affair had no future without him having to tell her—and because of that she was one of the few women he’d managed to stay friends with. But the knowledge that she knew him better than most only made her comment all the more disturbing.
Maddy wasn’t special. He couldn’t let her be. Whatever Zack and now Ruth believed. But even though she wasn’t special, she was definitely different.
When had he ever cut a business trip short because he missed a woman so much he couldn’t be without her? And when had he ever found it this hard to let one go?
He’d actually been concerned about inviting Maddy to Graystone’s for dinner. The restaurant was one of the most sought-after places to eat in London—frequented by the very top echelons of the capital’s business and entertainment worlds—and he’d worried about her feeling out of place and uncomfortable. But when she’d walked in, the blue dress clinging to her curves and making his mouth go bone-dry, he was the one who had felt uncomfortable. Because the desire to carry her off and then gobble her up in a few quick greedy bites had been stronger than ever.
Why did she fit here every bit as much as she did in that tiny cottage on the cliffpath? And when was he going to start tiring of her? Because they’d been together for over a month now. Which was already a record for him.
He’d planned the meeting with Ruth with one simple motive in mind. If Ruth liked Maddy’s work, it would absolve him of any lingering guilt over their affair. He’d used Maddy to repair his own battered ego and it seemed only fair to give her something back.
But the simple motive had backfired. He’d got a genuine thrill out of Maddy’s awestruck expression when Ruth had talked about the DeMontfort’s show, and her excited chatter all the way home in the cab about the prospect of her future career—not to mention the heady enthusiasm with which she’d made love to him when they got back to the apartment. She’d looked at him as if he had given her something precious—and made him wish that his motives had been as pure as she believed.
She stirred against him in her sleep, the movement sweet and sexy and so trusting he huffed out a sigh.
He had to reset the boundaries between them.
He took a deep breath of her intoxicating scent.
And somehow find a way to stick to them this time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
‘MADDY, dear—’ Ruth peered at her as she poured the pot of tea ‘—you look exhausted.’
Maddy took the ornate china teacup Ruth offered her and sipped at the delicate brew, trying to mask the creeping fatigue that had begun to sap her strength. ‘I’m fine. Really.’
‘You’re not fine. That much is obvious,’ Ruth said, her eyes clouded with sympathy as she draped the designs they had been discussing over her desk. ‘Is it the show? I’ve been working you like a slavedriver.’
