‘Don’t you?’ she said, arching an eyebrow, her tone just this side of scathing because that she’d been such a fool hurt. Badly. ‘Really? Well, why don’t I put you straight? I know what you’re doing, Leo.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Today. The meeting. The tour. The charm. The invitation to the Boat Race. It’s all been about buttering me up.’
Something flickered in the depths of his eyes, and his fingers tightened on the steering wheel and if she’d had any last, lingering hope that she’d got it wrong, that he was interested in her and not just because of the heat they generated in bed, it evaporated.
‘What I don’t get,’ she said, using the stab of pain to fuel her words instead of rip her apart, ‘is why you would do something like that. Why you would go to such lengths just to get me back into bed.’ She kept her gaze fixed to his but it was hard when it was so impossible to work out what was going on in that warped head of his. ‘And why would you so completely disrespect my decision to keep work and fun separate? Does what I want matter so little compared with what you want? Why have you singled me out? What’s so important about me?’She broke off to give him a chance to answer any one of those questions, but of course he didn’t, so she said as much for her benefit as his, ‘You know, my time is too valuable to waste playing such ridiculous games and I’d have thought yours was too. So you know what? Enough of this. It stops now. I’ll see you at the party, Leo, and not a moment before.’
And how she did it she’d never know with the way her whole body was shaking, but she got out of the car, walked up to her front door and she didn’t look back once.
* * *
It was only when Abby closed her front door behind her and disappeared from view that the restraint Leo had been employing snapped, and, swearing violently, he thumped the steering wheel.
How had things gone so badly wrong? How had he managed to ruin what had been a near perfect moment? Everything had been going so well. So well. He’d had her practically in the palm of his hand. She’d been on the verge of giving in, kissing him, and he’d been burning up with anticipation, dizzy with desire. He’d been so close to achieving what he wanted and giving her what he knew she wanted.
And then—snap—he’d screwed it up.
It had been the ‘thoughtful’ thing that had done it, he thought darkly, wishing he could rewind time and do the last ten minutes again. That she’d so totally misread the situation had made him feel uncomfortable. Somehow traitorous. And oddly guilty.
Not liking or understanding any of that he’d needed to get things back on track, put what was happening back into perspective, and that was why he’d gone for the gratitude angle.
But what a mistake that had been because he’d underestimated Abby. He’d never considered that she might see his plan for what it was, but he should have because unlike him she was no fool.
He’d never considered the consequences of her seeing through him either, but if he had he’d have assumed he’d have felt annoyed. Frustrated, perhaps.
Instead he felt like a complete and utter heel.
Leo ran his hands through his hair and forced himself to unclench his jaw before it shattered. He should have said something when she’d launched all those questions at him. In this instance silence had not been an effective weapon. It had simply proven his guilt.
But what could he have said when she’d been right on practically every count?
Her words ricocheted around his brain all over again and he grimaced in, yes, shame, because what right did he have to so completely disrespect her wishes? None. Was what he wanted more important than what she wanted? Of course not.
He’d been acting like a jerk. Envious of and frustrated by her strength of will when his was non-existent, and completely overwhelmed by the attraction, the desire he had for her.
But that was all it was, he reassured himself, as he struggled for calm. Desire. It would fade. Eventually. It always did. He didn’t know why he’d singled her out. There wasn’t anything special about her. And their time was too precious to waste.
So that would be it, he thought, pulling himself together and gunning the engine. No more obsessing. No more planning. And no more games. He’d be backing right off.
* * *
The reasons Leo had rescheduled all his appointments for the three days that ran up to party night, therefore, were purely of a practical nature.
For one thing the event was taking place at his house. If there were any questions about anything it would be better and quicker if he was on hand to answer them. For another, as he’d never really thought about the preparations of any event he’d ever attended, he’d like to see what was going on, how things were done, and, in this case, where, exactly, his money was being spent. He wanted to make sure no damage was done to the furniture. See that no one ran off with the silver. That sort of thing. He might even be able to help.
Besides, it had been a while since he’d been down here, and he’d kind of forgotten why he’d bought the house in the first place. It would be good to reconnect with the building and figure out what he was going to do with it.
If the need arose, he could easily work from here. And relax, because it was peaceful out here, and on the bank of the lake was a boathouse, which contained at least two skiffs and half a dozen oars.
His reasons for coming had nothing to do with wanting to see Abby, of course. Absolutely nothing at all. She’d told him in no uncertain terms to back off and leave her alone, and that was exactly what he’d done.
Bar replying to a couple of emails she’d sent he hadn’t been in touch, and that had been absolutely fine. He hadn’t missed the contact in the slightest. He hadn’t missed her in the slightest. The last fortnight had been terrific. Not as busy as he’d have liked work-wise, but, hey, he’d sculled so many miles along the Thames he could have gone to Holland and back. Twice. And taking his parents to the Boat Race had been fun. Huge fun.
He had to admit, though, that staying away from Abby hadn’t been easy. His conscience had kicked in with full f
orce practically the minute he’d arrived at his office after dropping her home, and had then set about hammering him with wave upon wave of guilt at the way he’d behaved. Guilt that time had only increased and only a grovelling apology might assuage.