When the music finished in the next moment he escorted her back to the table without suggesting another dance, and for the next hour or so that they remained at the nightclub he didn’t ask her to dance again. They talked business most of the time and Robyn realised Clay had taken it for granted that she would accept his offer. It brought temptation to the fore again.
And why not? the little voice in her head argued persuasively. She couldn’t have made it clearer tonight how she felt—his own words were witness to that—so if he wanted to put up some cash and was content to leave her to carry on as she had been doing for the last few years, why not take advantage of the situation? One thing was for sure, backers like Clay Lincoln were a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for a little business like hers. Drew would think she was crazy to turn such a break down.
But how often would she have to meet up with him? Wo
uld it all be done through his team of accountants or would it necessitate face-to-face contact now and again? She pondered how to ask the question but there wasn’t really an easy way, so she took a deep breath and just said it as it was.
His thick black lashes masked his expression as he looked down into the glass of mineral water he had poured himself after just one glass of wine, but he responded with barely a pause, his voice even and expressionless as he said, ‘Like I said, Robyn, I have more than enough on my plate than to interfere with your work. Contact would be minimal.’
It didn’t really answer her question but she knew she had pushed that particular avenue as far as she could go, and when all was said and done—and for whatever reason he was being so generous, whether it was his friendship with Guy or what—all the gain was on her side.
With the contacts she had made recently and the work she knew she could acquire given the extra funding, she couldn’t really lose on this. Everything to gain and nothing to lose in fact.
But did anything ever come that easy? His gaze rose again and she saw his face was cool and distant, the silver eyes more wintery than ever. He’d clearly given up on the evening, she thought soberly, refusing to acknowledge any shred of regret in the multitude of feelings flooding her chest. The little dalliance he’d allowed himself hadn’t turned out as amusing as he’d thought, and now that ruthless mind had slotted her away as not worth bothering about. Too much hassle. Whatever.
In spite of the beautiful surroundings filled with London’s cream of the beautiful people, Robyn wasn’t sorry to leave the nightclub a few minutes later. Her nerves were so sensitised they were painful, and she had a funny little ache in her heart region she didn’t care to examine.
She needed the sanctuary of her home as never before, her haven where she could close the door and shut the rest of the world out. Ridiculously the thought of her little house made her want to cry, and it horrified her. Whatever was the matter with her? There was absolutely no need to be so emotional, she chided herself silently as the Aston Martin appeared like magic as she and Clay exited the building. Everything was fine.
‘So…’ The car was weaving through the streets, shiny and wet after a sudden shower, when Clay spoke at the side of her. ‘I’ll set things up tomorrow morning before I leave for the States, okay? Contact Mike Robinson on this number—’ he reached into the breast pocket of his leather jacket and extracted a card ‘—and he’ll talk you through everything.’
His voice was quiet and even, expressionless almost, although Robyn thought she detected a slightly bored note now. She bit her lip hard. She hadn’t actually verbalised her agreement to the offer but it was probably best all round that she didn’t continue to make a big deal of this. ‘All right, Clay, and thank you. I appreciate this.’ She tried to match his tone but failed miserably. ‘It’s very generous of you.’
‘I could tell that really hurt.’
‘What?’ She turned to stare at the dark profile.
‘No matter,’ he drawled cryptically.
Annoying man. ‘Look, Clay, if you’re regretting the offer—’
‘Not at all. This whole evening has been rather an…interesting experience.’ He had cut her off before she could continue, his voice slightly mocking.
Robyn wasn’t into enigmatic statements. If nothing else she was a plain-spoken, straightforward girl, she thought crossly, her words reflecting her thoughts as she said flatly, ‘Interesting? And what does that mean exactly? Are we talking in a patronising sense here by any chance?’
‘Give me strength.’ It was the quality of his voice, rather than the volume, that told her he wasn’t quite so calm and remote as he’d like her to believe. They had just arrived at the top of Robyn’s street, and now Clay sped with—in Robyn’s eyes—unnecessary speed down the road, whisking the car into a parking space in front of Robyn’s Fiesta and cutting the engine with uncalled for violence. ‘You have to be the most infuriating, difficult female I’ve had the misfortune to come into contact with for years,’ he ground out tightly into the screaming silence that followed. ‘Hell, I’ve gone the extra mile for you—’
For Cass and Guy’s sake, yeah, right, Robyn thought tensely, determined not to acknowledge he had a point.
‘And you’ve done nothing but be a pain in the—’ He stopped abruptly, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that spoke of intense frustration. ‘Can’t you just be normal?’ he asked furiously. ‘Why does everything have to be such a damn confrontation? Don’t you ever loosen up and relax a bit? It’s not that hard and you might even find you enjoy it.’
‘Being with you, you mean?’ She shot the words back. ‘Because that is what this is all about at root level, isn’t it? The great Clay Lincoln, God’s gift to womankind, is annoyed because he’s met one female who hasn’t fallen down and instantly worshipped at the shrine.’
He stared at her as if she was mad. Perhaps she was mad, Robyn thought with bitter rage. Certainly the cool, calm façade she had been determined to adopt earlier had been blown apart. And it was all his fault! Arrogant, supercilious man that he was. He was a million times worse than he’d been all those years ago.
And then, as she glared into the dark handsome face and he glared back, silver eyes caught with brown and everything suddenly became very still. Robyn was conscious of certain outward things: the smell of rich leather from the car’s interior and the faint whiff of the aftershave her senses had picked up earlier; a dog barking somewhere in the distance; the sound of a car as it passed them. But the only real things in the universe were the metallic eyes holding hers.
And they weren’t cold or remote any longer.
She waited breathlessly for his touch and when his hand lifted and touched her cheek in the lightest of caresses she remained absolutely still, her heart beating so hard it hurt. His flesh was warm, and as he moved forwards, drawing her towards him, she didn’t resist. She couldn’t have resisted.
Their mouths met and she softened against him; she couldn’t help it. His lips were persuasive and knowing and the cosy cocoon within the car intoxicatingly intimate. The kiss went on and on in ever increasing spirals of pleasure, and now there was something hotter and sharper at the base of it that had Robyn wanting to be even closer to him. She wanted to run her hands over his hard body, to feel it pressing against her, to know every inch of him. To taste and feel and touch naked flesh.
The lasciviousness of her thoughts stabbed awareness into the tide of pleasure and she wrenched her mouth from his, sinking back into her own seat, her body trembling. This was crazy, crazy. One moment she was telling him she didn’t want anything to do with him and the next she’d fallen into his arms like a ripe peach. And where had that last thought come from?
It had started to rain again outside the warm confines of the car and now the raindrops pattered on the roof, running in rivulets down the windscreen as Robyn stared straight ahead. She didn’t dare look at Clay.
She waited for the mocking remark she was sure would come, some cool, sardonic comment on her inconsistency, but when Clay did speak it was only to say huskily, ‘I’ll see you to the door,’ before he slid out of the car and walked round the bonnet to open the passenger door. The old-fashioned courtesy was an integral part of him but her stomach muscles bunched as she took his proffered hand and joined him on the pavement.