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‘It’s pretty intense,’ she agreed, moving towards the windows at the back of the house and peering out, pretending she wasn’t still awash with mortification at the scene she’d made the night before. ‘Are storms like this common?’
‘No. Very rare,’ he responded, propping his hip against the kitchen bench.
‘You think it’ll be like this all day?’ She turned to face him and her heart gave a little lurch.
‘Si. At least.’ He crossed the room, pausing beside her, following her gaze. ‘We just have to wait it out.’
Just what she needed. To be locked in a tiny house with the man she’d begged to make love to her the night before.
Her smile was weak. ‘Great.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
TILLY WAS GOING to burst.
Besides the lashing of the rain and the bursting of thunder the house was silent, and had been all morning. He’d worked, and she’d read—or pretended to read. All she’d been able to do was replay the mortifying moments of the previous day, cringing inwardly as she remembered each little bit of information.
Had she actually been stroking him when they were on their way back?
Her cheeks flushed pink. She would never forgive herself. And she’d sure as hell never touch wine again.
She shifted on the couch, curling her legs beneath her and flicking a page.
He had been the perfect gentleman. Was that surprising?
No.
It wasn’t.
It was Rio.
Well, so far as impersonating Cressida went she’d nailed it. At least that was some consolation.
He hadn’t said a word. And nor had she—though curiosity over what he was doing had begun to fill her, distracting her from the book.
Finally she set it in her lap, her eyes lifting to him.
‘Yes?’ he murmured, without looking up.
Embarrassment flushed through her once more. She felt like a naughty child caught snacking from the cookie jar. ‘Nothing.’ She bit down on her lip. ‘What are you working on?’
He turned to face her now, his eyes like granite in his handsome face. ‘Evaluations.’
‘For insurance?’
‘No. For purchase.’ He pushed back from the table a little, stretching his arms above his head.
Tilly nodded, but she wasn’t really thinking about his work. Before she could find another topic a sharp, bright burst of lightning cracked overhead, and was followed immediately by the rumbling of angry thunder so loud that the windows shook. And then the lights began to flicker, before going off completely, plunging them into an eerie semi-darkness.
Though it was the middle of the day, the island was wrapped in grey, the sky thick and unyielding, the sun nowhere to be seen. The cabin almost glowed.
‘What happened?’ she murmured, standing up instinctively.
He frowned. ‘My guess is the generator blew a fuse.’
She blinked. ‘Something you can fix?’
‘Sure.’ He scraped his chair back and moved to the window, peering around the corner of the cabin. ‘I’ll take a look.’
