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‘Oh, I forgot.’ She was shocked by the admission. Not long ago the idea of appearing without glasses would have made her feel naked; they had been part of her persona for so long. ‘Thanks.’
Ezio didn’t immediately hand them over, instead he held them out, regarding them through narrowed eyes. ‘Very pretty,’ he decided, before his gaze shifted to Tilda.
For a split second she thought about telling him the truth but held back. This washermakeover, not his.
The difference was important to her and, she realised now, was part of the reason she had refused the delivery of designer outfits. Tilda had no ambition to be some sort of Cinderella. She was nobody’s project, she was her own woman.
‘No tints?’ he observed.
She shook her head. ‘I liked this pair.’ And she had rationalised her purchase by telling herself that specs were a fashion accessory.
‘Justhowshort-sighted are you?’ He held them out, and for a split second she thought he was about to raise them to his own eyes.
‘I can honestly say that the wedding was a blur.’ It was true, just not in the way he thought she meant. ‘In fact, this entire day feels surreal.’ Maybe she would wake up any moment and say,I had this really vivid dream. She turned her head to look him in the face. ‘Sorry for moaning...you hate this as much as me.’
‘Oh, notthatmuch,’ he said drily, the irony not lost on him. ‘You know, there are some women who might consider marrying me not a total waste of a day.’
Tell me something I don’t know, she thought.
‘Sorry, it’s nothing personal—and I’ll make the best of it, I promise. I’m not a whiner,’ she added solemnly, in case he thought she was going to bleat about it constantly. ‘I’m a realist. I know you made a better boss than you will a husband.’
‘You thought I was a good boss?’
While it was noticeable he hadn’t concurred with her initial statement, if she hadn’t known that Ezio didn’t need approval from anyone she’d have thought her admission had pleased him.
‘No woman ever had to push through a glass ceiling, because you never had one—that’s rare.’
‘Thank you. I’m glad you think I’m an equal opportunities employer, but actually I just like to reward talent. And, like the man says, if you’ve not tried it yet, don’t knock it. I might be an exceptional husband.’
Tilda, who fully expected him to be an absent husband, didn’t respond to the teasing.
‘I know today hasn’t been easy, but the next six months don’t have to be unadulterated misery.’
‘Why, because I’ve married a sex god?’ The moment the waspish words left her lips, she would have given anything to retract them. ‘It’s that damned article—and don’t say you don’t knowwhatarticle.’ Colour rose to her face as she remembered reading the kiss-and-tell article that had been liberally sprinkled with lurid details.
‘I don’t, but I intend to look for it now.’
Her cheeks were burning but she made a recovery and managed a disdainful sniff. ‘I’ll send you the link. But, although a lot of the comments thought she was just after some publicity, even allowing for a bit of exaggeration, I’m sure you’re great in bed!’
A gleam of appreciation appeared in his eyes. ‘You look like Matilda on a Monday morning, looking disapproving because I’ve done something wrong.’
‘It’s still me. Just think of me as the piece of office furniture who can talk back outside the office,’ she snapped back, pretending not to be aware that he’d shifted his position and his thigh was now against her own.
It was a lot of pretending!
Irritated with herself for being aware, she blamed that kiss... It had made her feel excited, vulnerable, a dozen other things she couldn’t put a name to when she thought of it. Thought of the taste of him, thought of the tangle of tongues, the feeling...Oh, God!
‘What is it?’
She shook her head. Then, desperate to divert attention from her momentary blip, she glanced pointedly at Sam, whose head was nodding away to the music he was listening to via the ear buds pushed in his ears. The glass screen protected her from the audible boom of bass she knew would be pumping out, despite the headphones. She felt a stab of sympathy for the driver and hoped the poor man shared Sam’s taste in music.
‘He’ll probably be stone deaf by the time he’s twenty.’And I’ll be a divorcee.But divorce was six months away and, thinking of that kiss...would she ever stop thinking of it?...six months suddenly seemed a very long time.
She’d jumped in without thinking this thing through. In her defence, she had worked closely with him for four years. She’d have thought if incapacitating lust was going to be a problem it would have reared its ugly head by now.
She took a calming deep breath. This would work...this had to work... She owed it to Sam and she owed it to her parents, and the silent vow she had made to them at the funeral.
She didn’t have to enjoy the next six months, she just had to get through them. The logical part of her brain told her she should not have leapt before taking precautions, such as having her own lawyer go through the contract she had signed, or working out that Ezio should come with a ‘once kissed never forgotten’ warning.
