He nodded. ‘You did.’
‘You were probably a bit disorientated. Confused, even.’
‘I was. And I’m sorry.’
‘It’s fine,’ she said with a wave of her hand and a reassuring smile as she straightened and turned back to him. ‘Really. It’s not an issue.’
‘Are you sure?’
She nodded, crossed her legs to ease at least one of her poor lacerated heels and linked her hands around her knee. ‘Absolutely. I’m not going to go round telling everyone you accused me of being a prostitute, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
He arched an eyebrow. ‘No?’
‘Of course not. In my business discretion is a given. Whatever the occasion and whatever the circumstances. So your secret is perfectly safe with me.’
His expression didn’t flicker for a second, but Abby thought she detected a slight ease in the tension gripping his shoulders and there was definitely a faint smile playing at his mouth. ‘Thank you.’
‘Anyway, I’m sure there are perfectly valid reasons for thinking that your brother would procure a prostitute for you,’ she said, curiosity getting the better of her because the Cartwright brothers were notoriously private, this one being especially hard to read, and she suddenly wanted to know everything.
‘Possibly.’
‘Care to share them?’
‘Not particularly.’ He rubbed a hand along his jaw and regarded her thoughtfully. ‘You know, I’d actually quite like to forget about the whole thing.’
‘Oh, so would I, so would I,’ she said with a regretful shake of her head as she decided she wasn’t above a little emotional manipulation if it meant finding out what was going on behind that stony façade of his. ‘But you see it’s going to niggle away at me for days.’ She bit her lip and frowned. ‘And now I think about it, maybe I do deserve an explanation.’
Leo arched an eyebrow. ‘In return for your silence?’
She tsked and grinned. ‘You make it sound like blackmail.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘Not at all. It’s a simple clarification of the facts for the purposes of moving forward.’
He tilted his head, his smile deepening a little. ‘Fair enough. Jet lag doesn’t suit me.’
‘I wouldn’t have thought excessive alcohol suited jet lag.’
‘It doesn’t.’
‘Then why the overindulgence?’
‘I wouldn’t call an inch of whisky an overindulgence.’
‘An inch?’
He nodded. ‘An inch.’
‘You could have fooled me,’ said Abby dryly. ‘The place reeked.’
‘I know. And I also know why.’
‘Now I’m intrigued.’
‘Exhaustion caught up with me while I was at my desk. I crashed out. I must have knocked over the glass. Got the stuff all over me.’
The glass on its side and the stained papers in his study flashed into her head and Abby nodded. ‘That sounds feasible, I suppose. And Jake’s part in the proceedings? Because to be honest he doesn’t seem like the procuring type.’