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‘I’m not sure. Maybe I should job-hunt instead. Although...’ She bit her lip. ‘To be honest, lovely as the cottage is, there aren’t a lot of jobs around there that require any knowledge of English literature!’
‘Move here—to London,’ he said promptly. ‘Loads more options.’
She made a face. ‘Accommodation here is fiendishly expensive. On the other hand,’ she mused, ‘that incredibly generous allowance you made me is mostly sitting in the bank still. I used a wodge of it for my month at the resort, but it would fund me for a good while here in London, until I get settled with a job and a salary.’
‘I’d be happy to rent a flat for you,’ Dante replied. ‘After all, you are my wife!’
She shook her head decisively. ‘I couldn’t possibly let you do that,’ she said. ‘That was never part of the arrangement between us. Besides...’ something elusive flickered in her expression, her voice ‘...there’s the very generous settlement you offered for when...well, when our marriage ends.’
He watched her reach for her wine glass, noting the way her fingers—now with their beautifully manicured and painted nails—tightened around the stem.
‘Well, there’s a while till then,’ he said evenly. ‘But London would certainly be the best place when it comes to jobs. Are you still keen on finding something in publishing?’
‘That would be lovely,’ she said reflectively. ‘But it’s highly competitive, and I’m older than most new starters. And do I really want to be in London? It’s fine occasionally—like now—but would I want to live here all the time?’
She gave a faint sigh, and Dante picked up on it.
‘There’s no rush to make your mind up. In fact,’ he said slowly, ‘what might be best for you right now is to take a complete break. Your time at the resort obviously did you good—so why not continue to broaden your horizons?’
He let his eyes rest on her. Deep inside, he could feel that low, dark purr start again. It was even lower now, and deeper. More disturbing to his peace of mind. He knew he should be helping Connie make her mind up about what to do next with her life, helping her move forward. Knew, too, that the makeover she’d indulged in was primarily for her own benefit.
Not mine.
And yet...
Instinctively his eyes went to her, rested on her. Taking in the extraordinary change in her appearance. He didn’t want to be shallow...didn’t want to be predictable. He knew perfectly well that there was a lot more to Connie than just the way she looked. He’d known it since he’d met her. He knew that he already liked her for who she was—not what she looked like.
And yet...
The pause came again—more potent this time. He’d been stunned by the difference her makeover had made, and had been open in his appreciation of the difference in her—not just physically, but emotionally—and totally honest in his compliments. He wanted her to bask in the moment after all she’d been through.
And yet...
There it was again. Pushing itself into his consciousness, despite his best endeavours not to give it house room. Not to claim it for himself, greedily and selfishly. But now, as he noticed how very lovely Connie looked sitting there, he knew with a certainty that was coming from deep inside him that the way he was responding to her was very, very personal.
And he knew the name of it. Knew the name of what had never been between them—what had nothing at all to do with their marriage or their relationship, their friendship, up to this point.
But it was there now. Rich and potent and growing more powerful with every moment that he let his gaze rest on the long-lashed cerulean depths of her eyes, on the delicate curve of her cheek softened by the wisping tendrils from her upswept hair, on the sweet contours of her mouth...
He felt it quicken within him and knew it for what it was, and what he could not deny. Could only acknowledge and accept.
Desire...
‘That was a truly superb meal,’ Connie was saying with a smiling sigh. ‘Worth every last calorie!’
Dante turned from sliding his key card down the lock on the door to their suite. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it,’ he said. ‘But Connie, I don’t want you worrying about calories. You look fantastic, and I’m so pleased for you, but don’t for a moment stint yourself over food—promise me?’
He ushered her inside the suite. He was still in something of a daze, trying to process what he was feeling for Connie. It had happened so suddenly. In one sense Connie was still exactly the same person he’d come to know in the months since they’d married each other. In another...
She is completely new—a revelation to me!
He tamped it down—which was the only safe thing to do right now. For his own sake and, more importantly, for Connie’s.
Is she reacting to me the way I am to her?
He didn’t know—couldn’t tell. Knew only that he must tread very carefully.
‘Coffee,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I ordered it from the restaurant. It should be waiting for us.’
