‘Why not?’ His mouth had drifted to the line of her jaw, a brief stroking of velvet-soft lips there, more seductive than anything had a right to be. ‘Feels good, doesn’t it, kitten?’
It felt absolutely gorgeous, that was the trouble—but this was no innocent little kiss goodnight—despite what it looked like. She knew what he wanted—the tension in his body was almost palable, even from here—and he was barely touching her. Yet.
She wound her arms around his neck and put her face even closer, so that to an outsider it looked as if she was returning the embrace, while the duel being fought in their eyes told another story. ‘If you don’t let go of me right now,’ she told him in a low voice, ‘then I shall be forced to adopt tactics of self-protection which I guarantee you will not like. Certain parts of the male anatomy are extremely sensitive to rough handling!’
‘Is that what Marco used to like you to do?’
She didn’t react. ‘I enrolled in a course of self-defence in Italy, if you must know. Do I make myself clear, Drew?’
‘Perfectly.’ He let her go with an aching smile. ‘I can see I’m going to have fantasies about being roughly handled by you, Shelley.’
‘In your dreams!’
‘That’s exactly what I meant,’ he mocked. ‘Men have been having dreams like that about women since time began!’
She opened her mouth to snap back some smart comment, but the little spark which smouldered blue flames at the back of his eyes told her that she was playing with fire. ‘Be as outrageous as you like,’ she told him sweetly. ‘You won’t shock me!’
‘Is that an invitation?’ he murmured.
‘No, it is not!’ But she wasn’t giving him the chance to test her resolve.
‘Pity,’ he remarked, watching her prepare to take flight. ‘And you should be careful how you walk on those outrageously high heels, kitten.’ But he was still smiling as she scrambled up the stairs to her room, two at time.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT WAS nearly ten when Shelley woke up in the most comfortable bed she had ever slept in, feeling like a different person. Even after the shock of discovering that Drew had obviously taken women—she wouldn’t let herself even try to estimate how many—back to the home which they had once both intended to share, she had still slept.
And maybe her subconscious had done her a favour during the night, because this morning she realised that he had been absolutely right. It had been an arrogant and audacious assumption on her part—to suppose that he had slept with no one. That didn’t stop it hurting, of course, but at least she could accept it. That was what being a mature person was all about…
At the open window, the breeze made the silky lilac curtains rustle and billow, so that they floated like a dancer’s skirt. She stretched extravagantly and got out of bed, stepping over the clothes which she had left where they had fallen. She had tumbled exhausted into bed last night—without even bothering to brush her teeth and take her make-up off. What on earth would Marco say? One day back in Milmouth and she was turning into a slut!
She went into the bathroom to repair some of the damage done overnight, wincing at her panda eyes and pale face, but once she’d showered and dressed she felt like a new woman. The blonde from the evening before was back on duty at the reception desk, and gave Shelley a helpful look of enquiry.
‘I suppose they’ve stopped serving breakfast?’ Shelley asked.
‘They have,’ the girl nodded. ‘But you can order a snack from the bar lounge, if you like. Or I’m sure that Chef would be happy to rustle you up something from the kitchen.’
‘Could you arrange to have fruit and yoghurt and a pot of coffee sent up to my room? I need to make a few phone calls.’
‘Certainly, Miss Turner.’ The blonde smiled back. ‘Any idea how long you’ll be staying with us?’
From out of the corner of her eye, Shelley noticed the impressive symmetry of the minstrels’ gallery. Above her head glittered the most flamboyant chandelier she had ever seen. Someone had spent a lot of time and money making this place beautiful, and she dreaded to think how much it must be costing her to stay there. Still, Marco had always paid her generously. And she could probably run to a few more nights until she got the house settled. Of course, only a fool would do that without checking first and she had already behaved foolishly over the water and electricity.
‘I’d better have a look at your tariff first, hadn’t I?’ she said, only half jokingly.
The blonde looked slightly taken aback. ‘Well, I don’t expect you’ll be paying for your room.’