against the wall. The very same wall where less than ten minutes ago Luke Devereaux had brought her to an earthshattering orgasm. Make that two earth-shattering orgasms.
Fat tears seeped out as she bit into her lip and choked down the hiccoughing cries. She couldn’t hold them back for long, though. Her legs collapsed beneath her as huge, soul-drenching sobs raked her body. Her back slid down the wall and she clasped her arms tight around her shins, burying her head against her knees in a vain attempt to hide from her own stupidity.
How could she have been such a complete and utter fool? How could she have plunged headlong into love in the space of a single evening with a guy who didn’t even exist? And why, now she knew what an utter fraud Luke Devereaux really was, did her heart still feel as if it were being ripped right out of her chest?
CHAPTER SEVEN
The present
‘Y OU insensitive, insufferable jerk.’ Louisa sneered, her shoulder muscles rigid and her insides roiling with indignation and shame. She steadfastly ignored the open wound still festering underneath that she thought she’d cauterised months ago.
She’d shed enough tears over Luke Devereaux. She wasn’t about to let him get to her again with his crass comments about her sex life. ‘Do you seriously think that giving me an orgasm that night somehow makes up for the appalling way you treated me?’
He sent her a sideways look, then flipped on his indicator to pass a lorry. ‘All I’m saying is that the sex was as good for you as it was for me, so stop pretending otherwise. And you didn’t have one orgasm, as I recall, you had several. I treated you just fine,’ he finished, with enough arrogance to increase her strop to fever-pitch.
Righteous anger surged up her throat. How typical of him to miss the point completely.
‘Sex isn’t just about mechanics, you know, Devereaux,’ she snapped. ‘It’s about feelings. If I had known who you were, that you wanted to punish me and humiliate me, youwould never have hit the jackpot at all. So you can stop slapping yourself on the back about it.’
He gave a harsh laugh. ‘The sex was hardly a punishment for either of us,’ he said, with enough strained patience to make her want to hit him again.
She twisted her fingers, kept them anchored in her lap.
‘Things got out of hand,’ he said, his voice thin with irritation. ‘I know that. But you enjoyed it, so I don’t see why you’re still sulking.’
‘You wouldn’t, you complete…’ She couldn’t think of anything bad enough to call him.
‘And if you hadn’t pried into my private life in the first place, we—’
‘I never pried into your private life in that article,’ she interrupted him, a tiny trickle of guilt making her bristle.
She’d once blithely compromised the privacy of others. It wasn’t something she was proud of. She’d learned the hard way never to cross that line again—had left the gossipy rag London Nights because of it. She was not about to be lectured on journalistic ethics by someone who didn’t know the first thing about them.
‘There was no gossip or innuendo in that piece.’ She’d made sure of it. ‘The Most Eligible Bachelors list is just a bit of romantic fun for our readers. The men we feature usually adore the attention. If you’re paranoid, that’s your problem—not mine.’
‘You put me on that list without my consent,’ he barked back, his fingers clenched so tight on the steering wheel his knuckles had whitened. ‘You started a stampede of debutantes, paparazzi and tabloid reporters to my door when I was trying to keep a low profile. If you don’t think that’s disrupting my private life you’re deluding yourself.’He braked and swung the car off the M40 and onto the suburban streets of West London.
Mr Cool and Detached seemed to be in quite a snit.
‘Tough,’ she said, ignoring the now much more persistent prickle of guilt.
She had nothing to feel guilty about. It
Fat tears seeped out as she bit into her lip and choked down the hiccoughing cries. She couldn’t hold them back for long, though. Her legs collapsed beneath her as huge, soul-drenching sobs raked her body. Her back slid down the wall and she clasped her arms tight around her shins, burying her head against her knees in a vain attempt to hide from her own stupidity.
How could she have been such a complete and utter fool? How could she have plunged headlong into love in the space of a single evening with a guy who didn’t even exist? And why, now she knew what an utter fraud Luke Devereaux really was, did her heart still feel as if it were being ripped right out of her chest?
CHAPTER SEVEN
The present
‘Y OU insensitive, insufferable jerk.’ Louisa sneered, her shoulder muscles rigid and her insides roiling with indignation and shame. She steadfastly ignored the open wound still festering underneath that she thought she’d cauterised months ago.
She’d shed enough tears over Luke Devereaux. She wasn’t about to let him get to her again with his crass comments about her sex life. ‘Do you seriously think that giving me an orgasm that night somehow makes up for the appalling way you treated me?’
He sent her a sideways look, then flipped on his indicator to pass a lorry. ‘All I’m saying is that the sex was as good for you as it was for me, so stop pretending otherwise. And you didn’t have one orgasm, as I recall, you had several. I treated you just fine,’ he finished, with enough arrogance to increase her strop to fever-pitch.
Righteous anger surged up her throat. How typical of him to miss the point completely.
‘Sex isn’t just about mechanics, you know, Devereaux,’ she snapped. ‘It’s about feelings. If I had known who you were, that you wanted to punish me and humiliate me, youwould never have hit the jackpot at all. So you can stop slapping yourself on the back about it.’
He gave a harsh laugh. ‘The sex was hardly a punishment for either of us,’ he said, with enough strained patience to make her want to hit him again.
She twisted her fingers, kept them anchored in her lap.
‘Things got out of hand,’ he said, his voice thin with irritation. ‘I know that. But you enjoyed it, so I don’t see why you’re still sulking.’
‘You wouldn’t, you complete…’ She couldn’t think of anything bad enough to call him.
‘And if you hadn’t pried into my private life in the first place, we—’
‘I never pried into your private life in that article,’ she interrupted him, a tiny trickle of guilt making her bristle.
She’d once blithely compromised the privacy of others. It wasn’t something she was proud of. She’d learned the hard way never to cross that line again—had left the gossipy rag London Nights because of it. She was not about to be lectured on journalistic ethics by someone who didn’t know the first thing about them.
‘There was no gossip or innuendo in that piece.’ She’d made sure of it. ‘The Most Eligible Bachelors list is just a bit of romantic fun for our readers. The men we feature usually adore the attention. If you’re paranoid, that’s your problem—not mine.’
‘You put me on that list without my consent,’ he barked back, his fingers clenched so tight on the steering wheel his knuckles had whitened. ‘You started a stampede of debutantes, paparazzi and tabloid reporters to my door when I was trying to keep a low profile. If you don’t think that’s disrupting my private life you’re deluding yourself.’He braked and swung the car off the M40 and onto the suburban streets of West London.
Mr Cool and Detached seemed to be in quite a snit.
‘Tough,’ she said, ignoring the now much more persistent prickle of guilt.
She had nothing to feel guilty about. It
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