‘Why not?’
Sarah stared down into her wine, considered her answer and tried to imagine what it would be like to be one of Ben’s temporary women. ‘The way you describe it sounds fantastic. Carefree, glamorous...sparkling conversation, fine food and wines—a one-month fantasy.’
‘Don’t forget the great sex too.’
‘I hadn’t forgotten.’
Her turn for gritted teeth now. God knew she was trying not to think about the great sex. She didn’t need her already overheated imagination to be stoked further.
‘I was including that in the fantasy bit.’
‘As long as you weren’t missing it out. So what’s wrong with the scenario?’
‘Maybe it’s a scenario that only plays out well in your world—a world of wealth and glamour as its backdrop. Imagine it in the setting of my more mundane world. I live with my mum and Jodie; my mum would be babysitting. I’d need to get home before Jodie woke up in the morning. We could maybe afford to go out for a pizza, or a drink and a game of pool. But that’s not the real problem. I think no matter what the backdrop it would still feel cheap and I’d lose my self-respect. And I can’t do that.’
Because in those dark years with Kevin—those fuzzy, horrible years that she wished she could scrub from her skin and her soul—she’d had no self-respect at all. She’d never go back there again; she needed to be able to look Jodie in the eye every day.
Ben leant forward, his cobalt eyes steady and sincere in the moonlight. ‘All I can say is that I don’t feel any loss of respect for the women I have been involved with, and I genuinely don’t think I lose any respect for myself. I don’t see my dates as cheap—I see them as equals: women who know what they want and can put those expectations into words. I would never want anyone to lose their self-respect over me.’
His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug and he shifted so his face was in shadow.
‘I’m not worth it.’
The words were said lightly, yet they didn’t feel light.
Sarah studied his face and wondered whether he was truly questioning his self-worth. She sensed a strand of vulnerability in his aura of power and it touched her, tugged at her chest.
But before she could say anything he continued. ‘Hence my rules,’ he said. ‘A woman has to be on the same page as me.’
Silence.
‘She has to want the same type of arrangement as me, and the most important criteria is that no one gets hurt. That’s also why I wouldn’t get involved with a parent. I’d never risk a child getting hurt.’
‘And that’s why I won’t get involved with anyone—I won’t risk Jodie getting hurt. So I guess we both have our own moral codes and rules that work for each of us.’
‘And never the twain shall meet?’
Sarah nodded and tried to ignore the regret that looped inside her. ‘So no more kisses.’
‘No more kisses.’ There was both regret and finality in his tone. ‘But, for the record, that one kiss we shared was a humdinger.’
She nodded, quelling the urge to ask for one last glorious sample. They had both laid down their rules and there was no way to breach them.
One last sip of wine and she placed her empty glass down. ‘I’m glad we had this conversation.’
And she was—because mixed with regret was also the slow burn of satisfaction that the attraction was mutual, that he wanted her too. And also relief that the elephant in the room could now be acknowledged.
Rising, she tried to smile. ‘I think I’ll call it a night.’
‘Agreed—on both counts.’
He rose to his feet and she was oh, so aware of his gaze as she turned and headed to her bedroom.
She tried not to wish she wasn’t walking there alone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE NEXT MORNING she awoke with butterflies in her tummy that even the opulent magnificence of the bathroom couldn’t alleviate. Once dressed in a carefully chosen poppy print lacy dress, demurely high-necked, but eye-catching in its vivid colour, she exited her room, drawn by the tantalising waft of coffee.