‘No, I didn’t. My work is something I discuss with him, but when it comes to my emotions…’ She gave him a direct look and got up and went over to him. ‘When it comes to those, you are the only person I want to share them with.’
Guilt touched Mark’s heart. She was so open and honest, shaming him with her generosity and her love.
He reached out and pulled her down on to his knee, tucking her head into his shoulder and smoothing her hair back off her face. She moved against him, rubbing her skin sensuously against him, her movements as soft and pliant as a cat’s.
‘I’m sorry I’ve been such a pig,’ he told her gruffly. ‘I wanted to tell you about my job, but I didn’t want to spoil your pleasure in your promotion.’
He knew as he said it that it wasn’t strictly the truth; and that he was not only editing his real thoughts, but upgrading them as well, washing them clean of his real and much less admirable feelings.
As she listened to him Deborah expelled her breath on a small sigh of relief. Earlier, listening to him, she had come perilously close to suspecting that he actually resented her promotion. Now she was glad that she had resisted the temptation to say as much. She was beginning to let Ryan influence her judgement too much, she told herself; in future she must guard against letting his little digs at Mark get to her.
She and Mark were equals, playing their own individual roles in their relationship. There was no question of either of them wanting to be superior to the other in any way.
‘I suppose Ryan made a pass at you this evening?’ Mark commented, tugging gently on her hair.
‘Only a half-hearted one.’ Deborah laughed. ‘He knows that he’s not my type and the man I’m interested in is you.’
Because he wasn’t like Ryan… because he wasn’t all the things that Ryan was… because he wasn’t as much of a man?
Deborah frowned as Mark got up and moved away from her.
‘Mark…’
‘Not tonight, Debs… I’m not exactly in the mood. Unlike your superstud of a boss, I can’t deliver sex on demand.’
Deborah said nothing, but there was a note in his voice that upset her. Because Mark was unnecessarily comparing himself to Ryan or because he might have been insinuating that she was ignoring his emotional needs in favour of her own sexual ones?
‘Still hungry?’ she heard Mark asking her. ‘You said that Ryan hadn’t fed you,’ he reminded her.
‘No—no, he didn’t,’ she agreed.
‘Right, you stay here and I’ll go into the kitchen and make you my famous and incomparable cheese omelette.’
As he went into the small kitchen he wondered if Deborah could hear the false heartiness in his voice as clearly as he could himself. He had never had to pretend with her before, to conceal what he was really feeling.
She was so generous… so warm… so giving and loving. He had seen the look in her eyes when he’d told her he didn’t want to make love.
How long was it going to be before in bed was the only place she still actually needed him? Ryan was her professional mentor now, not him… He paused, staring out of the kitchen window into the darkness. His own emotions confused him and made him feel uncomfortable and guilty.
He ignored them, turning his attention to the omelette. When he took it into the sitting-room Deborah smiled at him sleepily.
‘Mmm, that smells wonderful,’ she told him appreciatively. As he watched her eat it he remembered something he had meant to ask her earlier.
‘Who’s the new little blonde clerk?’
Deborah frowned thoughtfully. ‘Oh, she’s taken Myra’s place while she’s on maternity leave.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘I know I’m being prejudiced but she is a bit bimboish, isn’t she? Short skirts, dyed hair and that “helpless little me” act…’
‘Bimboish… I thought…’
‘You thought what?’ Deborah prompted him, suppressing a yawn.
‘Nothing,’ Mark told her, removing her plate. He had thought the little blonde had been very soft and feminine. Her clothes weren’t as elegant as Deborah’s, of course, but there had been a shy, admiring sexual speculation in the way she had smiled at him that had made his hormone level rise abruptly…
‘Don’t let Ryan get to you,’ he heard Deborah saying gently to him.
She had followed him into the kitchen, and as he turned round she put her arms around his neck and pulled him close to her, nuzzling her face affectionately into his neck.
‘Mmm… all right, I won’t; I’ll let you get to me instead, shall I… ?’ he suggested as his hand slid over her body, cupping her breast; she felt him harden unmistakably against her.