Her cheeks reddening, Kit said quietly, ‘I would never let anything like that happen to you. You have my word on that. And it’s not just about protecting my record with the agency. I—I care about what happens to you.’
‘Do you really?’
‘Yes, I do. Anyway, I’ll make sure to keep my door ajar so I can hear you, should you need me.’
‘I need you now, but you don’t seem to care about that. If you did then you’d stay the night with me as I asked.’
Hal caught a glimpse of what looked like regret in her bewitching blue eyes and for a moment his heart leapt with hope that she might change her mind. But instead she gracefully moved across to the door and went out, making sure to leave it slightly ajar instead of shutting it completely.
‘Damn and blast it all to hell!’ Dropping back down against his pillows, he freely gave vent to his anger and frustration...
* * *
He’d had the most diabolical night’s sleep—perhaps an hour or two at most. So when he wheeled himself into the kitchen the next morning in search of Kit and a cup of much-needed coffee Hal wasn’t exactly predisposed to be either amenable or pleasant.
Nor was he easily going to forgive her for not accepting his invitation to spend the night with him—even though he’d reflected afterwards that it was probably a good thing that she hadn’t. After all, his romantic interludes had always been on his terms, not his lover’s, and that was the way he liked it. Certainly he had never invited any of his partners to spend the night with him before. It shouldn’t be any different with Kit—no matter how much he desired her. Nor should he behave as if it remotely disturbed him that she’d refused his invitation to stay the night. If she intuited that he needed her more than he let on then that would make him vulnerable, and that was the one thing he wanted to avoid...
Usually when something was troubling him Hal’s habit was to take some exercise—either to jog, run or take a bike-ride—so that he could think what to do. Because all of those outlets were denied him right now the sensation that the walls of his surroundings were pressing in on him added to the already considerable stress he was under. He longed to get out—to fill his lungs with some fresh air and breathe freely again.
Kit was standing by the worktop waiting for the kettle to boil when he entered. Her beautiful red hair had been curtailed into two neat plaits, and dressed in jeans and a tunic-style white shirt—wearing no make-up as far as he could tell—she looked just like a schoolgirl. Despite his irritability, Hal’s heart missed a beat. He might be mad at her for running out on him last night, but it didn’t make him want her any less. The blood in his veins was already simmering at the mere sight of her, and the thought that he might never again have her in his bed soured his already dark mood even more.
‘Morning,’ he muttered, deliberately averting his gaze and wheeling himself across to the table.
‘I was just about to bring you in some coffee and toast and help you to get dressed.’ She stopped speaking and sighed, and Hal couldn’t resist lifting his head to check out her expression. ‘But I see you’ve managed it without me,’ she finished.
‘I’m not entirely helpless,’ he returned gruffly. To his astonishment, her lips curved in an amused smile—which wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. ‘What’s so funny?’ he demanded, privately furious that she might be mocking him.
The smile vanished. ‘You’ve put your sweater on back to front.’
Glancing downwards, Hal saw that she was right. The grey cashmere V-neck was indeed back to front. Hardly welcoming the fact being pointed out to him, he muttered a curse and then impatiently pulled it up over his head. Bare-chested, it didn’t help to maintain his dignity when he got into a tussle with one of the sleeves in an attempt to turn the sweater the right way round so he that could put it back on again.
Kit instantly reacted. ‘Let me help you.’
Presenting herself in front of him, she carefully relieved Hal of the cashmere, sorted it out so he could put it back on, and gently pulled the jumper down over his head. By the time she’d completed the task, tugging it gently but firmly down to his hard lean waist as though he were a child, his heart was thudding fit to burst. It didn’t help matters that he found it almost unbearable to be so close to her and not be able to spontaneously reach out, pull her down onto his lap and embrace her.
‘For God’s sake, stop fussing, woman! How old do you think I am? Three? If you want something useful to do you can go and see to my coffee and toast.’