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But seriously, what on earth made her believe she had messed up? And at what exactly? Convincing people their engagement was real? Because she’d been too damn convincing at that, so convincing in fact he’d begun to believe it himself.
Even though a part of him knew he should take her up on her suggestion, and call a halt to this charade—because it had already become more complicated than it was ever meant to be—he couldn’t do it.
So he turned on the ignition, peeled away from the kerb and asked the question that had been bugging him as soon as she had told him about her connection to Quinn.
‘Why do you call him Pat? Do you still have feelings for that bastard?’ Why the hell that should matter to him, he had no idea, but still, he wanted to know.
‘Oh, no, not at all,’ she said, the surprise in her voice and the instant reply mitigating at least some of his anger. ‘The truth is I haven’t thought about him in years.’
‘How did it end?’ Even as the probing question came out of his mouth, he knew he shouldn’t have asked it—any more than he should want to know the answer. Her previous affairs were no business of his. But he’d be damned if he’d take it back.
Surely, he could be forgiven for being curious? After all, she had been engaged to that bastard when she was only seventeen. The man had most likely been her first lover.
He tapped his thumb on the steering wheel, jerked the gear shift into second to take the turn into Shaftesbury Avenue waiting for her reply—which didn’t come nearly as quickly as her previous answer, he noted. His impatience mounted as the car sped past the row of theatres, their doors closed now, and the paper lanterns of Chinatown speckled light onto the hood.
‘We were very young,’ she said at last as he braked at the lights on the junction with Haymarket.
He glanced her way, hearing the hesitation in her voice.
‘And we eventually figured out we just didn’t suit,’ she finished. But he could see the flags of vivid colour on her cheeks. She was lying, he was sure of it—there was more to it than that.
The questions cued up in his head.
How long were they together? Why did it really end? Had that bastard touched her roughly then too, the way he had tonight? But as the night air cooled at least some of the heat churning in his gut, he forced himself not to ask any of them.
Whatever had happened between Orla and Quinn in the past, once he had dealt with the man, Quinn certainly would not make the mistake of hurting her again.
And her past really did not concern him.
They made the rest of the drive in silence.
Unfortunately, as his fury began to cool, the hunger, and heat that had dogged him all night returned. He could sense the charge between them now like a living, breathing thing, and was sure she could feel it too.
Was it why he didn’t want to let her go?
After he parked the car in the garage behind the house, she leapt out before he had a chance to open her door.
‘Will you want me tomorrow?’ she asked, backing away from him towards the house.
I want you tonight.
He cut the thought off, forced himself not to act on it. ‘No,’ he said.
Space and distance were necessary, until he could control his reaction to her in every respect.
‘Would it be okay if I returned to Kildare for a few days, then?’ she asked, the colour on her cheeks still vivid as her back hit the door.
‘No, it would not be okay,’ he said, a lot more forcefully this time. Maybe space and distance were required, until they got this hunger under some semblance of control, but he’d be damned if he’d let her leave the country. ‘We’re supposed to be engaged, Orla,’ he added. ‘Leaving so soon won’t fit the narrative.’
Nor would it improve his mood.
‘But if you don’t need me here, I’m sure there’s lots I could be doing there…’ Her breathing speeded up again and drew his gaze back to her cleavage, where the material shimmered and glowed and he could see the slope of her bare breast at the side of that damn gown that had been playing peek-a-boo with him all night… ‘To brief your team when they—’
‘I said no.’ He interrupted the far too eager stream of suggestions. ‘I’ll be travelling to the stud next month, you can accompany me then. But I’ve already hired a new manager to take over the day-to-day running of the facility.’
‘Oh.’ She looked crestfallen. ‘I see.’
He refused to feel guilty about it. This was what they’d agreed. She shifted out of his way as he approached the door—tense and skittish.
