‘At the moment you don’t like me because you feel threatened by the physical attraction between us,’ Clay continued smoothly. ‘It m
akes you feel vulnerable, exposed. When that’s dealt with you would find it’d be good between us in all areas, not just in bed. We’d have fun, Robyn. I promise you.’
It was the sensual undertone in the last words that told Robyn she had to end this conversation right now. Or rather her body’s reaction to them as a wave of heat flooded through her.
‘At the risk of sounding like a heroine from a thirties movie, I’m not that kind of girl,’ she said, keeping her voice light and dry with enormous effort. ‘The liking and bones of the relationship would have to come first, not after the bed bit.’
He seemed to consider her words for a moment, his head slightly on one side as he stared at her with clear silver-blue eyes in which she could read nothing. ‘Okay.’ He finished his coffee in one gulp and rose to his feet.
Robyn looked up at him. His voice had been quiet and faintly amused, but she couldn’t see what he was really thinking because the barrier of his amazing crystal eyes was firmly in place. ‘What do you mean, okay?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘We’ll spend time getting to know each other for a while.’
‘I don’t want to get to know you, Clay,’ she said quickly, her heart jerking and then racing like a greyhound.
‘You can’t have it both ways, Robyn,’ he said in a voice that was patiently reasonable. Overly insultingly patiently reasonable. ‘If you weren’t so scared of getting involved in a physical relationship again—’ what did he mean, again? she thought wryly ‘—I would have bedded you long before this. We both know if I start to make love to you, really start to make love to you, you wouldn’t stop me. You wouldn’t be able to stop me.’
The arrogance of it caused her to blink even as her innate honesty forced her to admit—silently—that he was absolutely right. It also pointed out one little fact that made it imperative she never slept with Clay. She loved him. The knowledge had been there all the time since they’d first met again, and it was that which was scaring her half to death. She wasn’t over him; she would never be over Clay Lincoln. She had lied to herself for years. Fought against admitting it even to herself.
‘Perhaps, perhaps not,’ she countered quietly. ‘But I do know if I slept with you as things are now I would hate myself.’
Now it was his turn to blink, and there was a peculiar expression on his face as he said, after a long pause, ‘Then, we will have to be patient until you can tell me you wouldn’t hate yourself because that would be as unacceptable to me as it is to you.’ And he sounded as though he meant it.
‘And what if I can never say it?’ she said in a little rush, her heart pounding. ‘What then?’
‘You will, Robyn.’ It was quiet but carried a wealth of intent. ‘The timing was wrong all those years ago but whatever is between us now was there then, and it hasn’t died. If anything it is stronger.’
How right you are, she thought with a terribly irony. But it’s love on my side and just physical attraction on yours, and that makes you the most dangerous thing in the world. She’d survived one encounter of being rejected by him; when he tired of her this time—and he would tire of her as he’d already made very clear with his clever words about no ridiculous promises and no lasting commitment—she wouldn’t come to the surface again. And she was worth more than that, she told herself bitterly.
But she had whetted his interest the night of Guy’s birthday by her coolness, although it hadn’t been intentional and she certainly hadn’t been playing hard-to-get. He was a tough, cynical, worldly man who was used to women throwing themselves at him, and she had been a little different. That was all it was on his side. Whereas she…
Robyn took a long, deep breath and stood to her feet. If she didn’t go along with this façade of ‘getting to know each other’ he would pursue her relentlessly, he was that type of man. But if, after a few weeks or months he realised she wasn’t what he thought she was, he would lose interest, and probably by then there would be some other woman ready to console him. In fact she could guarantee it. They were probably queueing up already.
‘Okay, we date for a while.’ It took all of her will-power and then some to sound so calm and matter-of-fact. ‘When you happen to be in the country of course,’ she added with a touch of sarcasm, ‘work permitting.’
‘Work will permit exactly what I tell it to.’ He was walking to the staircase as he spoke and it took her by surprise. Was he going? She hadn’t expected him to concur to her demands so easily.
‘I flew over from the States to see you today,’ he continued without turning round, ‘and I shall do it again when necessary.’
‘You said—’ She had followed him and now stopped speaking abruptly when he swung round at the top of the stairs and faced her. Then she forced herself to go on quickly, ‘You said you came back on business.’
‘No, Robyn, you said I had come back on business,’ he said softly. He kissed the top of her nose, a light kiss, even teasing, but it was enough to make her stiffen and tense as the subtle magnetism increased tenfold.
‘I might not have been here,’ she said feverishly, taking an involuntary step backwards away from him. ‘I do go out you know.’
‘Then I would have been disappointed,’ he said coolly. ‘Goodnight, Robyn. I’ll see myself out.’
She was too taken aback and confused to do anything other than watch him descend, and when the sound of the front door shutting a few moments later brought her out of the trance she’d fallen into, her legs gave way and she sank down onto the top step, her head whirling. She felt as though she’d been bulldozed!
How was it that she was doing exactly what she had promised herself she would never do, and getting involved with Clay? she asked herself bewilderly. How had he managed that?
And the answer came back, uncompromising and frightening. Because he was astute enough, intuitive enough, to sense he had her in the palm of his hand. But—and this was the only thing that helped the hot panic that was in danger of taking her over to subside a little—he thought it was mere sexual desire that was attracting her. He didn’t know she loved him.
And whatever it took, whatever it took, he never would know. It would be the final humiliation.
CHAPTER SIX
ROBYN threw herself into work for the rest of the evening and by the time she fell into bed the midnight oil had well and truly burnt out, it being nearly three o’clock. Nevertheless it was a good half an hour before she could persuade her racing mind to let her sleep, and then she was awake again at six with Clay’s name on her lips after a particularly erotic dream that left her aroused and aching. And longing, burning to see him again.