‘Cara—’ He sounded troubled. Aggrieved. Exasperated.
Stumbling away from him, her back hit the wall again and she felt her way blindly into her bedroom and slammed the door shut, leaning back on it as if it would keep out the horror of the past few seconds.
Which, of course, it wouldn’t.
What must he think of her? All he’d done was offer to help her with her dress and she’d thrown herself at him. What had possessed her to do that when she knew he wasn’t over losing his wife? How could she have thought he wanted anything more to develop between them?
She was a fool.
And she couldn’t even blame it on alcohol because she’d been drinking soft drinks for the past couple of hours.
She jumped in fright as she felt Max knock on the door, the vibration of it echoing through her tightly strung body. She knew she had to face him. To apologise and try to find some way to make things right again.
Struggling to get her breathing under control, she stepped away from the door and opened it, forcing herself to look up into Max’s face with as much cool confidence as she could muster.
Before he could say anything, she held up a hand. ‘I really am sorry... I don’t know what happened. It won’t ever happen ag—’
But, before she could finish the sentence, he took a step towards her, the expression in his eyes wild and intense as he slid his hand into her hair, drawing her forward and pressing his lips against hers.
They stumbled into the room, off balance, as their mouths crashed together. Electric heat exploded deep within her and she heard him groan with pleasure when she pressed her body hard into his. She could feel the urgency in him as he pushed her back against the wall, his hard body trapping her there as he fervently explored her mouth with his own, his tongue sliding firmly against hers. Taking a step back, he pulled his shirt over his head in one swift movement and dropped it onto the floor next to them.
‘Are you sure you want this, Cara?’ he asked, his voice guttural and low as she feverishly ran her hands over the dips and swells of his chest in dazed wonder.
‘Yes.’
She smiled as he exhaled in relief and brought his mouth back down to hers, sliding his hands down to her thighs so he could pick her up and carry her over to the bed.
Then there was no more talking, just the feel of his solid body pressed hard against hers and the slide and twist of his muscles under his soft skin and—sensation—a riot of sensation that she sunk into and lost herself in. Her body had craved this for so long it was a sweet, beautiful relief to finally have what she wanted.
What she needed.
In those moments there was no past and no future; they were purely living for the moment.
And it was absolutely perfect.
CHAPTER NINE
MAX AWOKE FROM such a deep sleep it took him a while to realise that he wasn’t in his own bed.
And that he wasn’t alone.
Cara’s warm body was pressed up against his back, her arm draped heavily over his hip and her head tucked in between his shoulder blades. He could feel her breath against his skin and hear her gentle exhalations.
Memories from the night they’d just spent together flitted through his head like a film on fast-forward, the intensity of them making his skin tingle and his blood pound through his body. It had been amazing. More than amazing. It had rocked his world.
It had felt so good holding her in his arms, feeling her respond so willingly to his demands and clearly enjoying making her own on him.
But, lying here now, he knew it had been a mistake.
It was too soon after losing his wife to be feeling like that. It felt wrong—somehow seedy and inappropriate. Greedy.
He’d had his shot at love and it wasn’t right that he should get another one. Especially not so soon after losing Jemima. In the cold light of day it seemed tasteless somehow, as if he hadn’t paid his dues.
He’d been in such a fog of need all day yesterday that he’d pushed all the rational arguments to the back of his head and just taken what he’d wanted, which had been totally unfair on Cara.
He wasn’t ready to give himself over to a relationship again. And he knew that Cara would need more from him than he was able to give. She’d want the fairy tale, and he was no Prince Charming.
The worst thing was: he’d known that this was going to happen. From the moment he’d set eyes on her. He’d been attracted to her, even though he’d pretended to himself that he wasn’t. And he’d only made things worse for himself by keeping her at arm’s length. The more he’d told himself no, the more he’d wanted her. That was why he’d really thought it best to get rid of her quickly, before anything could happen between them. And then, once it became clear there was no hiding from the fact she was a positive force in his life, he’d pretended to himself that he wanted her to stay purely for her skills as a PA.
Idiot.
It had well and truly backfired on him.
This was precisely why he’d stopped himself from becoming friends with her at the beginning. He’d known it would guide them down a dangerous path.
His concerns hadn’t stopped him from knocking on her door after she’d run away from him last night, though. Even after it had taken everything he’d had not to respond to that first kiss. But she’d looked so hurt, so devastatingly bereft that he’d found himself chasing after her to try and put it right. And, judging by her reaction when he’d been unable to hold back a second time and stop himself from kissing her, she’d been just as desperate as him for it to happen. In fact, the small, encouraging noises that had driven him wild made him think she’d wanted it for a while.
And, as his penance, he was now going to have to explain to her why it could never happen again.
Drawing away from her as gently as he could so as not to wake her, he swung his legs out of bed and sat on the edge, putting his head in his hands, trying to figure out what to do next. He wasn’t going to just leave her here in the middle of rural Leicestershire with no transport, but the thought of having to sit through the whole car journey home with her after explaining why last night had been a mistake filled him with dread.
He jumped as a slender arm snaked round his middle and Cara kissed down the length of his spine, before pulling herself up to sit behind him with her legs on either side of his body, her breasts pressing into his back.
‘Good morning,’ she said, her voice guttural with sleep.
Fighting to keep his body from responding to her, he put his hand on the arm that was wrapped around his middle and gently prised it away.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked, her tone sounding worried now.
‘Fine.’ He stood up and grabbed his trousers, pulling them on roughly before turning back to her.
She’d tugged the sheet around her and was looking up at him with such an expression of concern he nearly reached for her.
Steeling himself against the impulse, he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at her with as much cool determination as he could muster.
‘This was wrong, Cara. Us, doing this.’
‘What?’ Her eyes widened in confused surprise.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let it happen. I got caught up in the moment, which was selfish of me.’
Her expression changed in an instant to one of panic. ‘No.’ She held out her hands beseechingly. ‘Please don’t be sorry about it. I wanted it to happen, too.’
He swallowed hard, tearing his eyes away from her worried gaze. ‘I can’t give you what you want long-term, Cara.’
Pulling the sheet tighter around her body, she frowned at him. ‘You don’t know what I want.’
He smiled sadly. ‘Yes, I do. You want this to turn into something serious, but I don’t. I’m happy with my life the way it is.’
‘You’re
happy?’ She looked incredulous.
He rubbed his hand over his face in irritation. ‘Yes, Cara, I’m happy,’ he said, but he felt the lie land heavily in his gut.
‘But what we had last night—and all day yesterday—I didn’t imagine it.’ She shook her head as if trying to throw off any niggling doubts. ‘It was so good. It felt right between us, Max. Surely you felt that, too.’
He looked at her steadily, already hating himself for what he was about to say. ‘No. Sorry.’ He scrubbed a hand through his hair. ‘Look, I was feeling lonely and you happened to be there. I feel awful about it and I won’t blame you for being angry.’
She didn’t believe him; he could see it in her eyes.
‘I understand why you’re panicking,’ she said, holding out her hands in a pleading gesture, ‘because we’ve just changed the nature of our relationship and it’s a scary thing, taking things a step further, especially after what happened to Jemima...’
‘See, that’s the thing, Cara. I’ve been through that once and I’m not prepared to put myself through something like that again.’
‘But it was so random—’
‘The type of illness isn’t the point here. It’s the idea of pouring all your love into one person, only to lose them in the blink of an eye. I can go through that again.’
‘But you can’t cut yourself off from the world, Max. It’ll drive you insane.’
He took a pace forward and folded his arms across his chest. ‘You want to know what really drives me insane—that my wife was lying there in hospital with the life draining out of her and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. Not one damn thing. I promised her I’d look after her through thick and thin. I failed, Cara.’ His throat felt tight with emotion he didn’t want to feel any more.
‘You didn’t fail.’
He rubbed a hand over his eyes, taking a deep breath to loosen off the tension in his chest. ‘I’m a fixer, Cara, but I couldn’t fix that.’
‘There wasn’t anything you could have done.’
‘I could have paid her more attention.’
‘I’m sure she knew how much you loved her.’
And there was the rub. He did love Jemima. Too much to have room for anyone else in his heart.
‘Yes, I think she did. But that doesn’t change anything between you and me. I don’t want this, Cara,’ he said, waggling a finger between the two of them.
She stared at him in disbelief. ‘So that’s it? You’ve made up your mind and there’s nothing I can do to change it?’
‘Yes.’
Tipping up her chin, she looked him dead in the eye. ‘Do you still want me to work for you?’ she asked, her voice breaking with emotion.
Did he? His working life had been a lot less stressful since she’d been around, but what had just happened between them would make his personal life a lot more complicated. They were between a rock and a hard place. ‘Yes. But I’ll understand if it’s too uncomfortable for you to stay.’
‘So you’d let me just walk away?’
He sighed. ‘If that’s what you want.’
The look she gave him chilled him to the bone. ‘You know, I don’t believe for a second that Jemima would have wanted you to mourn her for the rest of your life. I think she’d have wanted you to be happy. You need to stop hiding behind her death and face the world again. Like you said you were going to yesterday. What happened to that, Max? Hmm? What happened to you? Jemima might not be alive any more, but you are and you need to stop punishing yourself for that and start living again.’
‘I’m not ready—’
‘You know, I love you, Max,’ she broke in loudly, her eyes shining with tears.
He took a sharp intake of breath as the words cut through him. No. He didn’t want to hear that from her right now. She was trying to emotionally manipulate him into doing something he didn’t want to do.
‘How can you love me?’ Anger made his voice shake. ‘We barely know each other.’
‘I know you, Max,’ she said calmly, her voice rich with emotion.
‘You might think you do because I’ve told you a few personal things about myself recently, but that doesn’t mean you get who I am and what I want.’
‘Do you know what you want? Because it seems to me you’re stopping yourself from being happy on purpose. You enjoyed being with me yesterday, Max, I know it.’
‘I did enjoy it, but not in the way you think. It was good to get out of the house and have some fun, but that’s all it was, Cara, fun.’
She shook her head, her body visibly shaking now. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Fine. Don’t believe me. Keep living in your perfect little imaginary world where everything is jolly and works out for the best, but don’t expect me to show up.’
She reacted as if his words had physically hurt her, jolting back and hugging her arms around herself. ‘How can you say that to me?’
Guilt wrapped around him and squeezed hard. She was right; it was a low blow after what he’d already put her through, but he was being cruel to be kind. Sinking onto the edge of the bed, he held up a pacifying hand. ‘You see, I’m messed up, Cara. It’s too soon for me. I’m not ready for another serious relationship. Maybe I’ll never be ready. And it’s not fair to ask you to wait for me.’
Her shoulders stiffened, as if she was fighting to keep them from slumping. ‘Okay. If that’s the way you feel,’ she clipped out.
‘It is, Cara. I’m sorry.’
The look she gave him was one of such disappointed disdain he recoiled a little.
‘Well, then, I guess it’s time for me to leave.’ She shuffled to the edge of the bed. ‘I’m not going to stick around here and let you treat me like I mean nothing to you. I’m worth more than that, Max, and if you can’t appreciate that, then that’s your loss.’ With the sheet still wrapped firmly around her, she stood up and faced him, her eyes dark with anger. ‘You can give me a lift to the nearest train station and I’ll make my own way back to London.’ Turning away from him, she walked over to where her overnight bag sat on the floor.
‘Cara, don’t be ridiculous—’ he started to say, his tone sounding so insincere he cringed inwardly.
Swivelling on the spot, she pointed a shaking finger at him. ‘Don’t you dare say I’m the one being ridiculous. I’m catching the train. Please go and get changed in your own room. I’ll meet you by the car in fifteen minutes.’
‘Cara—’ He tried to protest, moving towards her, but it was useless. He had nothing left to say.
There was no way to make this better.
‘Okay,’ he said quietly.
He watched her grab her wash kit from her bag, his gut twisting with unease.
Turning back, she gave him a jerky nod and then, staring resolutely ahead, went to stride past him to the bathroom.
Acting on pure impulse, he put out a hand to stop her, wrapping his fingers around her arm to prevent her from going any further. He could feel her shaking under his grip and he rubbed her arm gently, trying to imbue how sorry he was through the power of his touch.
She put her hand over his and for a second he thought she was going to squeeze his hand with understanding, but instead she pulled his fingers away from her arm and, without giving him another look, walked away.
* * *
Cara waited until Max’s car had pulled away from the train station before sinking onto the bench next to the ticket office and putting her head in her hands, finally letting the tears stream down her face.
She’d spent the whole car journey there—which had only taken about ten minutes but had felt like ten painful hours—holding her head high and fighting back the hot pressure in her throat and behind her eyes.
They hadn’t uttered one word to each other since he’d started the engine and she
was grateful for that, because she knew if she’d had to speak there was no way she’d be able to hold it together.
It seemed they’d come full circle, with him withdrawing so far into himself he might as well have been a machine and her not wanting to show him any weakness.
What a mess.
And she’d told him she loved him.
Her chest cramped hard at the memory. When the words left her mouth, she hadn’t known what sort of reaction to expect; in fact she hadn’t even known she was going to say them until they’d rolled off her tongue, but she was still shocked by the flare of anger she’d seen in his eyes.
He’d thought she was trying to manipulate him, when that had been the last thing on her mind at the time. She’d wanted him to know he was loved and there could be a future for them if he wanted it.
Thinking about it now, though, she realised she had been trying to shock him into action. To reach something deep inside him that he’d been fiercely protecting ever since Jemima had died. It wasn’t surprising he’d reacted the way he had, though. She couldn’t begin to imagine the pain of losing a spouse, but she understood the pain of losing someone you loved in the blink of an eye or, in this case, in the time it took to say three small words.
Fury and frustration swirled in her gut, her empty stomach on the edge of nausea. How could she have let herself fall for a man who was still grieving for his wife and had no space left in his heart for her?
Clearly she was a glutton for punishment. And, because of that, she’d now not only lost her heart, she’d lost her home and her job, as well.
* * *
Back in London three hours later, she let herself wearily into Max’s house, her nerves prickling at the thought of him being there.
Part of her wanted to see him—some mad voice in the back of her head had been whispering about him changing his mind after having time to reflect on what she’d said—but the other, sane part told her she was being naïve.
Walking into the kitchen, she saw that a note had been left in the middle of the table with her name written on it in Max’s neat handwriting.
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