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Gael suppressed a noise of frustration. “Here.” He passed her the soup.
She didn’t move. “Why were you so angry?”
His mouth formed a humourless grin, and he shrugged. “You told me I was just like him. And I don’t want to be.”
Carrie lifted the soup spoon and ladled some hungrily into her mouth. She swallowed it, her mind ticking over. “Why not?”
“Because he hurt my mother.” His smile was uncomfortable. “When you walked out today, and I saw that I am hurting you, I felt … ashamed.”
Carrie swore to herself. Hadn’t she decided she wouldn’t let him see that he was capable of hurting her? Hadn’t she wanted to prove she was no longer that weak, pathetic girl? She tried to arrange her features into a quizzical expression, but it was an effort. Raised brows, quirked lips, lightly dancing eyes.
“Hurting me?” A laugh, she
prompted herself. A laugh will show him you’re fine. “You’re not hurting me, Gael. You’re annoying me.”
Now he laughed, and she suspected his confused expression was no mask. “Well, that’s novel. Do explain.”
“I told you what I wanted from you. Business and pleasure, but kept entirely separate. I don’t need big emotional confrontations. That’s not fun.”
“And you like fun?” He said quietly.
“Yes. I’m only twenty three! The last thing I want is to have dramatic arguments with a man over lunch.” She pulled a face.
“I see.”
She doubted it, but at least she could hope that he saw what she wanted him to. A confident, well-adjusted, easy-going woman of the world.
“In any event, I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”
She smirked at him over her spoon. “Forgiveness is for idiotas.”
He laughed quietly. “Very good.”
“Would you like something to eat?”
He surveyed her selection with a shake of his head. “No.” He thought of the burgers he’d brought earlier and winced. What he wouldn’t do for a really good burger and fries. He sighed. “But I’m happy to watch you eating.”
Carrie pushed the soup away and speared a broccoli. She ate, but her appetite was waning in preference of other far more desirable feelings.
Whatever was going on between them, lust was very much at the forefront.
“You are dressed to go out,” he said after a few quiet moments.
Carrie looked down at her dress and shook her head. “Nope.”
“You wear this for yourself?” He gestured first to her dress and then her face, presumably alluding to the make up.
“I’m prepared for anything,” she made a joke of it, wondering why his questioning made her self-conscious.
Gael nodded slowly, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw, then transferred it to her cheek. Something about Carrie wasn’t right. Something just didn’t add up. It was a mystery, and a mystery he intended to solve.
“You want fun?”
She nodded, moving her face in the cup of his hand.
“I will send a driver for you early tomorrow morning. Be downstairs by seven o’clock.”
He stroked his thumb across her cheek, and then stood.
