by Lucy King
‘Naturally.’
She glanced at his mouth and her own watered. At the sound of supper, obviously, not at the thought of kissing him. ‘Great,’ she said with a bit of a strained smile.
‘Go through to the kitchen. You know the way.’
Technically she did, so she walked down the hall and made for the kitchen. Metaphorically, however, she was floundering, not really knowing quite in which direction to head.
What on earth was wrong with her? She never normally had this much trouble with her self-control. She’d read about the brain sometimes going AWOL during pregnancy but it hadn’t occurred that it would ever happen to her. The possibility that it had was unsettling. And it meant she had to be extra specially careful when she was around him.
He indicated that she should sit down, so she did. She ran her gaze over the table, laid for two—no candles, thank goodness—and then she turned it to the chef, who was busying himself with supper.
After switching the oven off, Marcus opened it, took the meat out and stuck a cloche over it, and then deftly dealt with a saucepan that was bubbling over.
His back view really was magnificent, she thought idly, her mouth watering at the aroma as she put her handbag on the chair next to hers and slowly let her gaze drift over him. In a purely objective fashion, of course, because objective appreciation of her host was allowed. It was good manners, in fact. Practically an obligation.
Whatever it was, she ogled the broad shoulders that tapered down to a slim waist that she envied now that her own was thickening, great bottom and long muscled legs, and let out a soft sigh of admiration.
Why was getting it on with him a bad idea again...?
‘Drink?’ he asked, turning around and making her jump. She went bright red, as if she’d been caught doing—and thinking—something she shouldn’t have been. Which she had.
Wishing she could down a double gin and tonic for the sake of her nerves, Celia asked him for a tonic and to hold the gin, and once she’d quenched her suddenly rampant thirst decided it might be wise to do a little less of the ogling and a little more of the small talk.
‘When did you become such a good cook?’ she asked, putting her glass down and watching him lift a lid and peer into a cloud of steam.
‘When I realised it was either that or starve. Then I discovered I liked it. I find it relaxing.’
‘The ability to feed is a much sought-after quality in a man, I’d have thought.’ In any man she ever ended up with, that was for certain, if he didn’t want to go hungry.
‘Not sure it’s my most sought-after quality,’ he said, shooting her a lethal grin over his shoulder.
Celia went warm, and half-heartedly tried to convince herself that it was merely down to the heat the oven was throwing out. ‘No, well, I imagine not.’
He turned, leaned against the counter and shot her a quizzical look. ‘Do you really not cook at all?’
‘Toast and eggs I can do. Beyond that, not a lot. I usually grab something from the canteen at work and eat at my desk.’
‘Even now?’
His gaze slid down her body, stopping at her abdomen, and she blushed. The oven again, undoubtedly. ‘Even now.’
‘It’s really not that hard.’
She thought of her spotless kitchen and the devastation she would likely bring with a set of beaters or a food processor, and shuddered. ‘I’ll take your word for it.
‘You should try it.’
Celia muttered sceptically beneath her breath and decided to move from her non-existent skills to his very much in-existence ones. ‘Do you cook for your dates?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘I guess you’ll have to pull out all the stops for the one you blew out this evening.’
He grinned and she ignored the jealousy stabbing at her chest. ‘Four courses at the very least.’
‘Hmm.’
‘If there really had been a date.’
Her heart skipped a beat and just like that the jealousy vanished. Which would have worried her had she had the time or the inclination to analyse it, which she didn’t. She was too giddy with relief. Disproportionately giddy, actually, which was something else that probably needed analysis. ‘There wasn’t?’
‘Nope.’
She stared at him as she computed this. ‘So why let me think there was?’
His grin deepened and a wicked glint appeared in his eyes. ‘I couldn’t resist. You’re so determined to think the worst of me.’
She frowned and slowly rotated her tumbler between fingers. ‘I don’t think the worst of you at all.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘No?’
She shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Wow, when did that happen?’
‘I think it’s been happening gradually. And then, of course, I heard about the drought.’
Now it was Marcus’ turn to frown. ‘The what?’ he said, his smile fading.
‘Your six-month period of abstinence.’
‘How the hell did you hear about that?’
‘Dan.’
His mouth twisted. ‘Of course.’
‘No wonder you were so desperate when I basically ordered you to ravish me amongst the runner beans.’
His dark eyes glittered and she shivered at the desire suddenly flaring in their depths. ‘That had nothing to do with the drought and everything to do with you.’
She swallowed and sought a way to stop her body responding. ‘I imagine you’ve been making up for lost time.’
‘Why would you imagine that?’
‘I’ve seen the photos.’
‘Photos of what?’
‘You and countless women.’
‘Where?’
‘In the press.’
‘Right.’
He fell silent and she bristled with indignation. ‘Is that all you have to say?’
‘In these photos were me and these women naked and horizontal?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Well, then.’
Well, then, what? Maybe she’d got the wrong end of the stick from the photos but that didn’t mean Marcus hadn’t been shagging his way round London like a thirsty man looking for a drink. After all, he hadn’t been naked and horizontal with her, had he? Yet they’d still managed to have a pretty great time.
‘I hope you’re not going to say that I’m the only person you’ve had sex with in the last nine months,’ she said, aiming for withering incredulity but, what with the unfathomable feeling of hope bubbling through her, failing dismally.
‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’
‘Really?’
‘I’ve hardly been out recently, let alone swinging from the chandeliers.’
She sat back and stared at him. ‘So why did you tell me you were busy tonight?’
His eyes were on hers. Steady, dark and intense. ‘Because you are the only person I’ve had sex with in the last nine months,’ he said, ‘and I’m finding wanting a repeat of it increasingly on my mind.’
‘Oh,’ she said faintly.
‘Quite.’
‘That’s the last thing either of us needs.’
‘I know. Doesn’t mean I don’t still think it.’
As did she. All the time, if she was being brutally honest. But they’d just have to live with that. They weren’t animals. They were rational, sensible people who knew what was good for them, and what wasn’t. Still... ‘Maybe we should keep off the subject of sex tonight.’ It wasn’t as if they didn’t have plenty of other things to talk about. It should be a doddle.
‘Good idea.’
Her stomach growled and his mouth hitched up into a small smile. ‘And eat.’
‘Even better.’
* * *
It didn’t help that she kept groaning in ecstasy at the food he’d cooked. Every time she did, all he could think of was his bed upstairs and her on it. That was, when he wasn’t mentally sweeping aside everything on the table and feasting on her down here instead.
As his body tightened uncomfortably Marcus thought that whatever Celia hoped to achieve by tonight, they wouldn’t be doing it again, because this wasn’t just ‘supper’, this was torture.
‘This is delicious,’ she said with a wide, warm smile that only strengthened his resolve to keep his distance once the nightmare of this evening was over.
‘Thank you. Like I said, it’s not hard.’
She put her fork down and took a sip of tonic water. ‘So what have you been up to since I saw you last?’
‘Work.’ Driving himself insane.
‘Is that all?’ She arched an eyebrow and grinned. ‘Careful, Marcus, you might turn into me.’
‘To compensate I also spent a couple of days climbing in the Peak District.’ In the hope that the physical exertion might result in mental exhaustion, and he’d be able to go five minutes without thinking about her. Not that it had worked.
Her eyes widened. ‘I heard Dan took it up a while ago, but I didn’t know you climbed too.’
‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me.’
‘And that’s what tonight’s all about.’
It was, and he could do a lot worse than focusing on that rather than the way her hair shone and her eyes sparkled. Because conversation was easy enough, wasn’t it? And with any luck it would make the time fly. ‘What about you?’
She shrugged and gave him a self-deprecating grin. ‘Work, mainly.’
He returned the grin. ‘Goes without saying.’
‘But I also had supper with Dan and Zoe last night.’
‘How was their trip?’
‘It sounded fantastic.’
‘Did you tell them about the pregnancy?’
She nodded. ‘I did.’
‘How did Dan take it?’
‘Oh, fine,’ she said nonchalantly. ‘Eventually.’
Marcus went still, the hand holding his fork freezing midway to his mouth. ‘Eventually?’
‘For a moment I think he wanted to punch your lights out, but, realising it’s not really any of his business, he got over it quickly enough.’
He frowned and put down the fork. Hmm. He should have guessed that while Dan would be fine with him dating Celia, he might not be so fine about the fact that his best mate had knocked up his sister.
But as that was a conversation he wasn’t particularly looking forward to and didn’t need to worry about tonight he put it from his mind. ‘Do your parents know yet?’
‘I rang them today.’
‘And what did they say?’ he asked, and braced himself for the news that her father, like son, had taken it badly and was bearing down on him even as they sat there.
‘My mother was beside herself with excitement, and offered her full support and help.’
‘And your father?’
Celia’s smile turned wry. ‘Ah, yes, well, after declaring himself delighted you’d taken him up on his suggestion, he said something about one out of three being a start. Not exactly being a new man, though, he wasn’t quite so forthcoming with an offer of support and help. But he seemed pleased enough.’
‘One out of three?’
‘The baby. Marriage and a proper home being the other two.’
‘Do they mind about you not being married?’ he asked, thinking it best to avoid the subject of homes if he didn’t want to have to discuss and retract the offer he’d made her in a moment of giddy recklessness.
‘Surprisingly not,’ she said, and then paused as if a thought had crossed her mind. ‘Although I imagine that neither of them have much faith in the institution after what they went through so maybe it’s not all that surprising.’
‘They’ve never remarried, have they?’
Celia shook her head. ‘No. I think my mother’s too scarred by the experience and my father’s having too much fun leching after twenty-five-year-olds.’
‘Did the divorce scar you?’
She started as if startled by the question. ‘Me? Oh. Well. Not really. I mean, I was fourteen when they finally split and it was pretty horrendous but things had been awful for years. Dad had been having affairs practically since the ink was dry on the marriage certificate although I don’t think Mum found out until a few years later. But I’ve nothing against marriage as a concept, and I’d quite like to do it one day. Although with things the way they are,’ she said, indicating her abdomen with a wave of her hand, ‘I can’t see myself doing anything about that for a while.’
‘No,’ he muttered, a stab of guilt prodding him in the stomach as he collected up the plates and cleared the table.
‘So what’s put you off marriage?’
Marcus picked up a dish in the middle of which sat a chocolate tart, then sat down and used the business of cutting it into slices and sliding one onto the side plate she was holding up to think about just how open he wanted to be. The answer to which was, not a lot. ‘What makes you think I’m against marriage?’ he hedged.
She put her plate down and grinned. ‘The look of horror that you had when I brought it up.’
‘Right.’
‘So?’
He shrugged and decided there wasn’t any harm in telling her. It wasn’t as if he had a problem with it or anything. It was just the way things were. ‘I’m not against marriage in general,’ he said, serving himself a slice. ‘Just for me.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ve seen the damage that love can do. I am the damage. Or at least, I was.’
She nodded thoughtfully, presumably remembering the shocking stories about him that he knew Dan had regaled her with. ‘So you steer clear of love too?’ she said, taking a mouthful of tart and groaning softly in appreciation.
‘Yes,’ he muttered, giving his head a quick shake to dispel the faint feeling of dizziness. ‘Although it’s never been an issue because I’ve never been in love. But if I ever am I’ll resist it with every bone in my body because in my experience love is messy and tragic and who needs that kind of hassle?’
‘And that’s where we differ,’ she said, smiling wistfully and scooping up another bit of tart. ‘Because I’ve never been in love either but from what I’ve seen it’s lovely and so I’d like to experience it some day.’
Suddenly losing his appetite for pudding, Marcus sat back and ignored whatever it was that shot through him at the thought of her with someone else, because that she would be eventually was inevitable. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said gruffly.
‘For what?’
‘Putting you in this position.’
‘Oh, it’s fine,’ she said airily. ‘Now I’m beginning to come to terms with the reality of a baby I’ve mentally rearranged a few things.’
‘Love and marriage being amongst them.’
‘I’m not sure there’s a lot you can do about love, but marriage was only a very vague goal anyway.’ She grinned. ‘So you don’t need to worry—I won’t be hassling you on that front. Unlike some, I imagine.’
Marcus frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I heard you have a stalker ex.’
Oh. ‘Dan again?’
‘Yup. And I have to say I’m completely agog. So come on, spill.’
‘You want details?’
She arched an eyebrow. ‘Of course I do. Think of it as part of the “getting to know you” thing.’
‘OK,’ he said, figuring he had no real reason not to tell her. ‘I met her at a party and we went out for two months.’
‘A whole two months?’ she said dryly. ‘A record, surely.’
Marcus shot her a look.
‘Sorry,’ she added, not sounding sorry at all.
‘She wanted more. I didn’t. We stopped seeing each other.’
‘You dumped her?’
He shifted on his chair but he couldn’t get comfortable. The memory of Noelle the Nutcase giving him hives probably. ‘Yes.’
‘And then?’
‘She wouldn’t accept it.’
‘So what did she do?’
‘Kept calling, texting, emailing. She turned up here once or twice, and at the office a bit more.’
Celia grimaced. ‘How mortifying.’
‘It wasn’t the most pleasant of experiences,’ he said, which had to be the understatement of the century. ‘When she broke in here, arranged herself on the bed and waited for me to get home, I had to take it to the police.’
‘And then what happened?’
‘She was issued with an order to stay away both physically and electronically.’
‘Has she stuck to it?’
‘Thankfully.’
She hmmed. ‘I can see why you’d be wary of getting involved after something like that.’
‘Quite.’
She regarded him thoughtfully for a while and then leaned forwards. ‘So tell me, Marcus, given your abhorrence of commitment, why do you want this baby so much?’
Where that had suddenly sprung from he didn’t know, but the question didn’t come as a huge surprise. ‘It’s hard to explain.’