tone.
The grey-blue eyes flashed. ‘Thank you—but no, thank you,’ she said. Then she frowned. ‘I thought you were in the Far East?’
‘I came back early,’ Rafael said smoothly. His voice changed. ‘I found I didn’t want to be away.’ He paused. ‘From you,’ he finished.
His eyes were resting on her. She was flustered, he could see. More than flustered. Her skin had flushed—that pale, translucent, flawless skin that he wanted to reach out a hand and smooth with the tips of his fingers...
Her skin betrays her—her own body betrays her...
Celeste Philips could stonewall him all she liked. She could ignore his calls—ignore him —but what she could not do was hide her response to him.
‘So,’ he went on, his voice still smooth, his eyes still resting on her, ‘are you busy tonight?’
He saw her square her shoulders.
‘Look,’ she began, ‘I really don’t think—’
‘Then don’t,’ he interrupted.
His voice wasn’t smooth any more. Something had changed within it—something that reached into her, past all her defences.
‘Don’t think, Celeste. Just smile and say, That would be lovely! And then I will smile, too, and we’ll agree what time I’ll send the car for you, and then you’ll go up to your flat and spend the next couple of hours making yourself even more beautiful than you look right now. And I will drive off and bury myself in work, the way I’ve been doing since I last saw you, because that’s the only way I’ve kept functioning.’ He drew breath, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘So, that’s all agreed, then. The car will be here for you at eight.’
She opened her mouth again. He laid a single long finger against it, silencing her. He felt her lips tremble beneath his touch.
‘Dinner,’ he said, holding her gaze with his—a troubled gaze that told him of her wariness, her mixed emotions. ‘Just dinner, Celeste. Simple, pleasant, undemanding. You can get to know me a little more, and I you. And if we agree that, yes, we enjoy each other’s company—after all...’ the slightest tug pulled at his mouth ‘...we share a fondness for astronomy and geology, and who knows how many other ologies, hmm?—then, and only then, we can decide whether we would like to enjoy more of each other’s company. There—is that really so very onerous?’
He dropped his hand. This time she did not open her mouth to speak. She just looked at him, an almost helpless look on her face now, as if she had finally run out of ways to gainsay him.
He took a breath. ‘One evening of your life, Celeste. That’s all.’ He held her eyes, then veiled his own with a dipping of his long black lashes. He turned away, reached for the handle of the car door. ‘Eight o’clock, Celeste,’ he reminded her.
Then he lowered himself into the rear passenger seat and pulled the door shut. A moment later the car had moved off into the road, leaving Celeste behind, standing motionless on the pavement.
But with a heart-rate that felt as if she’d just sprinted five hundred metres.
Slowly, very slowly, she raised the tips of her fingers to her lips. It seemed to her they could still feel Rafael Sanguardo’s cool touch...
CHAPTER FIVE
T HE CAR CAME at eight. Celeste could see it from her living room window, pulled over by the kerb. She stared down at it. Was she mad to be doing this?
She knew she was. Mad even to think of doing what she was going to do. Have dinner with Rafael Sanguardo.
But it’s only dinner! And I need to do this! I need to use it to tell him that what he wants isn’t going to happen! It just isn’t!
She picked up her evening bag, headed downstairs to the waiting car. Tension pulled at her as she walked out onto the pavement. Deliberately she had chosen a dove-grey dress with a high neckline and a modest knee-length hem. Her make-up was subdued and her hair was in a neat French pleat.
All the way to the restaurant she strove for calm composure. Tonight she would tell
The grey-blue eyes flashed. ‘Thank you—but no, thank you,’ she said. Then she frowned. ‘I thought you were in the Far East?’
‘I came back early,’ Rafael said smoothly. His voice changed. ‘I found I didn’t want to be away.’ He paused. ‘From you,’ he finished.
His eyes were resting on her. She was flustered, he could see. More than flustered. Her skin had flushed—that pale, translucent, flawless skin that he wanted to reach out a hand and smooth with the tips of his fingers...
Her skin betrays her—her own body betrays her...
Celeste Philips could stonewall him all she liked. She could ignore his calls—ignore him —but what she could not do was hide her response to him.
‘So,’ he went on, his voice still smooth, his eyes still resting on her, ‘are you busy tonight?’
He saw her square her shoulders.
‘Look,’ she began, ‘I really don’t think—’
‘Then don’t,’ he interrupted.
His voice wasn’t smooth any more. Something had changed within it—something that reached into her, past all her defences.
‘Don’t think, Celeste. Just smile and say, That would be lovely! And then I will smile, too, and we’ll agree what time I’ll send the car for you, and then you’ll go up to your flat and spend the next couple of hours making yourself even more beautiful than you look right now. And I will drive off and bury myself in work, the way I’ve been doing since I last saw you, because that’s the only way I’ve kept functioning.’ He drew breath, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘So, that’s all agreed, then. The car will be here for you at eight.’
She opened her mouth again. He laid a single long finger against it, silencing her. He felt her lips tremble beneath his touch.
‘Dinner,’ he said, holding her gaze with his—a troubled gaze that told him of her wariness, her mixed emotions. ‘Just dinner, Celeste. Simple, pleasant, undemanding. You can get to know me a little more, and I you. And if we agree that, yes, we enjoy each other’s company—after all...’ the slightest tug pulled at his mouth ‘...we share a fondness for astronomy and geology, and who knows how many other ologies, hmm?—then, and only then, we can decide whether we would like to enjoy more of each other’s company. There—is that really so very onerous?’
He dropped his hand. This time she did not open her mouth to speak. She just looked at him, an almost helpless look on her face now, as if she had finally run out of ways to gainsay him.
He took a breath. ‘One evening of your life, Celeste. That’s all.’ He held her eyes, then veiled his own with a dipping of his long black lashes. He turned away, reached for the handle of the car door. ‘Eight o’clock, Celeste,’ he reminded her.
Then he lowered himself into the rear passenger seat and pulled the door shut. A moment later the car had moved off into the road, leaving Celeste behind, standing motionless on the pavement.
But with a heart-rate that felt as if she’d just sprinted five hundred metres.
Slowly, very slowly, she raised the tips of her fingers to her lips. It seemed to her they could still feel Rafael Sanguardo’s cool touch...
CHAPTER FIVE
T HE CAR CAME at eight. Celeste could see it from her living room window, pulled over by the kerb. She stared down at it. Was she mad to be doing this?
She knew she was. Mad even to think of doing what she was going to do. Have dinner with Rafael Sanguardo.
But it’s only dinner! And I need to do this! I need to use it to tell him that what he wants isn’t going to happen! It just isn’t!
She picked up her evening bag, headed downstairs to the waiting car. Tension pulled at her as she walked out onto the pavement. Deliberately she had chosen a dove-grey dress with a high neckline and a modest knee-length hem. Her make-up was subdued and her hair was in a neat French pleat.
All the way to the restaurant she strove for calm composure. Tonight she would tell
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