‘And it’s tiny. Charming,’ he added hastily. ‘But tiny.’
‘It’s more than big enough for one.’
He’d finished his salmon and took a long swallow of wine, blue eyes holding green when he murmured, ‘What if you meet someone?’
‘I meet people all the time, Morgan, and it doesn’t affect my living accommodation.’
Her voice had been light, even suggesting amusement, but her fingers were gripping the stem of the wineglass so tightly her knuckles showed white. Vitally aware of her body language, he gave the required response of a lazy smile but found he wasn’t ready to do the socially acceptable thing and leave well alone. ‘I mean someone special,’ he said softly. ‘You’re a very attractive young woman and most women in your position want a partner eventually, maybe even children one day. It would be a shame to work at getting the cottage exactly how you want it only to have to move to a bigger place.’
Her pupils had dilated, black showing stark against the clear green. Slowly she took a sip of wine, then said, ‘For the record I’ve done the partner thing, OK? Husband, everything. I didn’t like it and I have no intention of repeating what was a mistake now I have my freedom again.’ Rising to her feet, she added, ‘I just need to pay a visit to the cloakroom. I won’t be long.’
He rose with her but didn’t say a word because he couldn’t. He felt as though someone had just punched him hard in the stomach. And the ironic thing, he acknowledged soberly, was that he had probably asked for it.
CHAPTER FIVE
WILLOW fled to the downstairs cloakroom, berating herself with each step. Stupid. She’d been absolutely stupid to reveal what she had. And to add that bit about her freedom…
She closed the door of the cloakroom behind her and stood with her hands pressed to her hot cheeks in the cool white and grey room. Staring at her face in the large oval mirror above the washbasin, she saw her cheeks were fiery.
He’d think she’d been insinuating she was on the market again but this time for a no-strings-attached affair or something similar. Any man would. She should just have stated she had no intention of concentrating on anything other than her career for a long, long time. That would have been enough. Impersonal and to the point. Instead she’d launched into an explanation that had embarrassed them both. And Morgan had been embarrassed, she could tell from the look on his face. He hadn’t known what to say. In fact he’d done a goldfish impression as she’d left.
Which was probably a first.
The thought came from nowhere but in spite of her agitation it made her smile for a moment. She dared bet Morgan Wright was never taken by surprise and usually had an answer to everything.
Shutting her eyes tightly, she groaned under her breath. He really must think she was a nutcase now. First she nearly set his summerhouse on fire and covered his garden in ash, then she nearly set her own house on fire and now she was bending his ear about her disastrous marriage. What on earth was the matter with her? But he had asked.
Her eyes snapping open, she shook her head at herself. No excuses. He’d been making friendly dinner conversation, that was all. He hadn’t asked for a precise of her lovelife to date, for goodness’ sake. She hadn’t been thinking clearly enough, that was the trouble. When he’d mentioned children he’d touched a nerve. She had always thought she’d be a mother one day; she’d never really imagined anything else. Perhaps she’d hung in there with Piers long after she’d known she should have left because of the dream of babies and a family? By the time she’d petitioned for divorce she’d known she’d rather be barren for the rest of her days than have Pier’s child though.
Of course you didn’t have to be married or with someone to have a baby these days—the world was full of single mothers who’d got pregnant knowing they had no intention of staying with the father of their child for ever. One of her city friends had been quite open about the fact she’d purposely conceived knowing she didn’t even want to see the man again once she was pregnant. A high-powered businesswoman who was as ruthless in her lovelife as her worklife, Jill had already hired a full-time nanny before her baby was born and, now little Lynsey was six months old, appeared as happy as a bug in a rug with life.
But she wasn’t like Jill. Sighing, she brushed her hair back from her face. And what was right for one person wasn’t necessarily right for another. She wouldn’t want Jill’s life, which consisted of seeing Lynsey for an hour or two in the morning and even shorter time in the evening, and weekends. She knew herself well enough to realise she was an all-or-nothing kind of girl, and if she couldn’t have it all—a permanent relationship, babies, roses round the door—she’d rather have nothing. Not that her life was empty; it wasn’t. She had loads of good friends, a job she enjoyed and a home she’d fallen in love with the minute she’d seen it. Beth being pregnant had unsettled her, that was all. But it would be fun being an aunty and she could slake some of her maternal longing on the poor little thing in due time.