A Night of No Return

And she sensed it.

He saw the exact moment she read his mood. The expression in her brown eyes shifted from warmth to something different. Her certainty seemed to falter and her hand fell from his shoulder.

A cynical smile touched his mouth. ‘Exactly.’ He softened his voice in an attempt to snap the tension that was brewing in the air. ‘You need to be more specific when suggesting alternatives or your generosity might be misconstrued. Especially when you’re wearing nothing more than one of my shirts.’

‘You date women who wear nothing but designer couture. You expect me to believe that seeing your PA in one of your own shirts is going to send your libido into the danger zone? I don’t think so.’ Her tone was light but it was the sort of lightness that took effort to produce and her cheeks were streaked with pink. ‘You’re not that desperate.’

‘Maybe I am.’ His voice thickened by emotion that had been simmering all day, Lucas slid his hand round the back of her head and forced her to look at him. ‘Maybe I’m so desperate I don’t care what I do tonight. Or who I do it with. And maybe that makes this the worst place you could be right now, Emma.’ He could feel her pulse galloping under his fingers. Sensed that she was afraid to breathe in case she upset the delicate balance that existed between them. She was afraid she was going to tip him over the edge and he found himself incapable of reassuring her. He’d always thought of her as sturdy and robust but the thin silk of his shirt revealed slender, flowing lines and everything fragile.

And he wasn’t to be trusted with fragile, was he?

He’d already proved that.

The thought was like a shower of cold water.

His hand dropped.

Disgust was a bitter taste in his mouth. Was he really so desperate that he’d risk hurting one of the few genuine people in his life? ‘You should leave. Now. Go downstairs and lock your door.’ He wondered why she couldn’t sense the urgency. Or was it just that she had no sense of danger?

Either way, she didn’t move. ‘There’s no way I’m leaving you like this.’

‘You should have left hours ago when I told you to and then we wouldn’t have found ourselves in this position.’

‘I’m glad I didn’t. You shouldn’t be on your own tonight.’

‘Because you’re worried about your job?’

‘No. Because I’m worried about you.’

‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ The violence in him was so close to the surface that he could taste it. He stepped towards her, her subtle perfume sliding over his senses and disturbing the balance of his control. ‘I should be on my own. It’s the only way that works.’ He expected her to step back but she didn’t even flinch.

‘It doesn’t look as if it’s working to me. Perhaps it’s time you considered a different way. Perhaps, instead of alcohol and oblivion, you might try friendship and comfort.’

‘Friendship?’ The word chafed against his raw feelings. ‘You think right now I have friendship on my mind?’

‘No. I don’t think that. I’m not stupid. But I think you are hurting so badly all you want to do is make it stop. You want a rest from the pain. And I made that pain worse by finding that photograph,’ she said quietly, ‘and I’m sorry for that.’

‘You have no reason to be sorry. Now go.’

‘No. We can find another way to do this.’

He shouldn’t have been surprised by her stubbornness because she showed the same indomitable spirit at work. ‘There is no “we” in this, Emma. And as for friendship—’ it seemed imperative to smash her illusions about that ‘—I don’t have friends. I have people who want something from me and people who work for me.’ His harsh analysis didn’t seem to surprise her. Maybe she wasn’t as naïve as he thought she was.

‘You only think like that because of the company you keep. But you shouldn’t judge everyone based on the actions of Tara Flynn. She shouldn’t have left you alone tonight. That was wrong of her.’

At another time he would have been amused that she thought Tara capable of the sort of care she was describing. ‘Perhaps she was sensible. Perhaps she realised that it wasn’t safe to stay’

The heat of the fire had dried her hair curly and it tumbled in thick, dark waves over the snowy white of his shirt, which was proving woefully inadequate as a cover-up. The flickering light from the fire shone through the thin fabric, clearly outlining the dips and curves of her body and suddenly it was becoming harder and harder to do the right thing and send her away.