He counted out his stack of money. ‘I’m only a hundred pounds short. You’re not going to foreclose on me for that, are you?’
‘You bet your sweet life I am. Come on, pay up.’
‘Okay, what will you give me for Old Kent Road, with two houses?’
‘Fifty quid. Not a penny more.’
‘I need the full hundred.’ His tactics seemed to have changed and his lips curved in a wolfish, persuasive smile.
‘Sixty. Last offer. Take it or leave it. If you want a hundred you’ll have to throw in something else.’ They were almost nose to nose, bargaining fiercely.
Matt closed the gap between them, his lips brushing hers. ‘A hundred.’
‘You’re going to have to do better than that.’ Beth didn’t back down an inch.
He did a great deal better. His fingers trailed shivery sensations along the line of her jaw. He nipped her lower lip gently with his teeth, and when she opened her mouth to gasp, he caught it in a kiss. ‘The property market can be very volatile. Price can go up at any minute.’
She opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her. His mouth was on hers, challenging her to give in to him.
‘Two hundred.’ She broke away from him, gasping for air.
His eyes were dark, demanding. ‘Three.’
He was planting kisses on her neck, his fingers twined in her hair. One hand moved down her spine, finding the tiny knots of sensation, sending warmth flowing through her body. ‘You drive a hard bargain.’ She had hardly choked the words out when he drew her closer and she was locked against his chest, her hands free to explore the hard threads of muscle and sinew that ran along his shoulders. ‘Four it is.’
The game no longer existed. It was all for her now. He bent forward, taking her with him, backwards onto the cushions of the sofa. He seemed suddenly to engulf her completely, excruciatingly gentle and yet relentlessly insistent, his fingers exploring and his mouth taking. She wanted him to take more, give her every last drop of the exquisite tenderness that he was lavishing on her.
‘Matt. Matt, wait.’ He was suddenly still and she wriggled out from under him, sitting up. ‘Not here.’ She indicated the curtains, which were three-quarters open to allow the Christmas tree to be seen from outside. There wasn’t room on the sofa for him to stretch his long frame out properly, and there was a perfectly good bed upstairs. He could do everything that he wanted, everything she needed there.
‘Where, then?’
‘Upstairs?’ She hadn’t meant for the word to be a question, it was an invitation. But somewhere deep inside there was still a knot of uncertainty, which even Matt could not unravel.
He hesitated and she saw a spark of doubt in his eyes. It fed her own fears and was, in turn, fed by them. The escalating passion that had roared between them just seconds ago was replaced by spiralling qualms and distrust. She slid away from him, pressing her back against the end of the sofa.
‘Beth…I’m sorry. It’s so soon. Is this a good idea?’
What was he talking about? It had been two years, but somehow it was as if he had let go of Mariska only this afternoon.
If it was too soon now, then the time would never be right.
‘I…I don’t know.’ She wanted him to persuade her that it was okay, do for her what she couldn’t do for herself and break through the barriers that she had erected around her heart. Couldn’t he do that?
It seemed not. The Pandora’s box of all her doubts and misgivings was open now, and try as she might she could not stuff them back inside and clamp down the lid.
‘Then it’s not.’ He was gentle, but the certainty of tone was back. There wasn’t any going back now, no retrieving what had been lost.
He got to his feet. ‘Perhaps I should go. I need to get some things done at home.’ He shrugged. ‘Christmas…you know.’
She knew. There was no point in talking about it—that would only draw out the agony. She’d failed the test—her heart wasn’t strong enough to trust even him. And Matt was not going to come to her rescue this time. He obviously had issues of his own to struggle with.
They were both studiedly polite, but the spell was broken. She thanked him for fixing her roof and he thanked her for the meal. He pulled on his jacket and then he was gone, the lights of his car moving slowly down the lane and turning out onto the main road.
Beth carefully collected up the Monopoly board, sorting the money and the cards into order and placing them back into the box. Crying about it wasn’t going to help.
She flopped down onto the sofa. She would have given almost anything for just one more touch of his lips on hers, but it was too late now. It had always been too late, even before they had first set eyes on each other. Dammit! Tears rolled down her cheeks and she snuffled into the plump cushions, unable to stem the memories of how good it had felt to be in his arms and how suddenly being alone had morphed into being lonely. Somehow the sight of her Christmas tree, standing in the window, just seemed to make things worse. Perhaps crying would help after all.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN