She said furiously, ‘No way.’
He blinked. Then, infuriatingly, he gave her a reassuring smile. Reassuring! As if she, Bella Carew, sophisticate of three continents, needed reassurance. As if she couldn’t handle herself, no matter what a man chose to throw at her.
‘I didn’t say it had to be private. We can go to an all-night diner somewhere if you want.’
Bella looked up and down the upper east side boulevard with exaggerated irony.
‘Oh, sure. You see an all-night diner anywhere?’
‘Well, let’s go into the hotel. They must have a coffee shop.’
‘Oh, great. And my boss’s business contacts wander in and see me chatting to this evening’s pick up? No, thank you.’
She put a hand on the door handle.
He said urgently, ‘Don’t go.’
It stilled her. But only for a moment.
Not looking at him, she said, ‘You should have asked for my phone number like a normal person.’
He drove one gloved hand hard into the palm of the other. ‘I haven’t got time.’
Bella fumbled in her shoulder bag. The spiky heel of a sandal scratched her wrist. She ignored it and found a business card. Swinging round, she held it out to him.
‘Try that.’
He did not take it. He was looking at her very straightly, half impatient, half pleading.
‘I mean it. My day is solid with meetings and I have to fly out tomorrow to deal with a crisis at home. I only have tonight.’
It sounded melodramatic in the dark and freezing street. Somehow Bella did not think he was a melodramatic man under normal circumstances. Once again she had the impression of someone utterly alone.
It was a feeling she knew.
She thrust the business card into her coat pocket and said abruptly, ‘All right. Arnie will find us a diner. Get in.’
But in fact she gave the chauffeur directions to an all-night café in her own area of the Village. Close enough to run for home if she had to, she thought, defending her decision to herself.
Arnie grunted disapprovingly. But he had been on duty since the morning and he wanted to go home. Bella had persuaded him to a late, late coffee in the past and she knew his habits. Now they had unloaded their guests he would want his bed as much as she wanted not to be alone. He did not protest too hard, and dropped them at the little Italian café two blocks from her building.
Gil Whoever-he-was had the manners as well as the overcoat of a gentleman, Bella found. He held the door to the café open for her. There were a few diners, mostly drivers of delivery trucks in jeans snatching a break before getting back onto the empty early morning roads. Gil led the way past them, then stood until she had seated herself. She slid along the wooden bench against the wall but he did not crowd in beside her. He took a chair on the other side of the table and smiled at the heavy-eyed waitress who joined them.
‘What would you like?’ he asked Bella. ‘Breakfast?’
She shook her head, making a discovery. ‘You’re English.’
He smiled. ‘Don’t hold it against me. Coffee? Water?’
It sounded as if he did not realise that she was English too. That pleased her obscurely, and not just because she had been working on her mid-Atlantic accent.
‘Gallons of water. And herbal tea.’
‘Sure.’ The waitress knew her. She was in here often enough between her late night forays with out-of-town business contacts and her early morning runs when she gave up on sleeping. The waitress knew which herbal tea without asking. ‘You?’
He picked one of the coffee options at random, not taking his eyes off Bella.
When the waitress had gone he leaned forward.
‘OK, Tina the Tango Dancer. Cards on the table.’
For some reason, Bella’s stomach felt as if it was in a free-falling lift.
‘At last,’ she said loudly to disguise it.
‘When I saw you in the club, I thought, I know that girl.’
‘You don’t,’ she said positively. ‘I’d have remembered.’
He was impatient. ‘I know I don’t. So would I.’
‘You need a better chat-up line,’ Bella advised him.
He ignored that, frowning at the salt-cellar. ‘I’m not putting this well. Maybe what I meant was, I am going to know this girl.’
He looked up quickly. She did not look away quickly enough. There was a jolt like electricity to an exposed nerve.
‘An improvement,’ she said flippantly, recovering.
Not fast enough.
‘You felt it too,’ he said on a note of discovery.
‘No, I—’
‘Maybe not then. Later. When?’ She saw him reviewing their brief acquaintance. ‘Outside the hotel. Then. You knew then there was something about me you—recognised.’
Bella shook her head vehemently. She was trying to forget the little moment that had tripped her up when she had thought he was lonely, and in recognising that loneliness had been forced to acknowledge her own.
The waitress brought their drinks. He looked at his double latte as if he had never seen one before.
‘It’s coffee made with milk,’ she said kindly. ‘Not as strong as the stuff they put in cappuccino.’
‘Don’t change the subject. You knew, didn’t you?’
The lemon and ginger tea was too hot to drink. Bella refused to meet his eyes and pressed herself back against the wall.
She could not ever remember feeling so out of her depth. She was a seasoned flirt. She was also glamorous and sociable. Men had approached her in every conceivable way. Some had interested her, some hadn’t, but she had never felt so uncertain. Her head was whirling and her pulses were thundering as if this was somehow momentous.
As if she was afraid of something in herself. Something completely new.
She said, as much to herself as him, ‘All I knew was that you were a great dancer and I love to dance.’
He leaned forward. She could feel him willing her to look up. She could feel the intensity of his gaze on her bent head. It was as physical as if he had touched her.
She said loudly, ‘That’s all.’
There were a couple of shift workers sitting at a corner table, stocking up on breakfast before they went into work. Bella saw them look across curiously.
They must look completely out of place—Gil in his dark, expensive coat and handmade shoes, she with the remains of her party make-up and a cropped top under her winter-weight coat. Completely out of place but a matching couple among the truckers and shift workers. It was a long time since she had felt part of a couple.
As if he could read her mind, he smiled.
‘No,’ he said quite gently. ‘That’s not all. You know it. I know it. It’s bad timing but I know it. No point in lying about it.’
Bella looked at her fingernails. ‘I don’t believe in bad timing,’ she announced. ‘There’s only bad priorities.’
Gil looked amused. ‘You sound like my management consultant.’
Bella flinched. ‘My sister is a management consultant,’ she said after a moment.
‘And you’re telling me the consultant’s solution would be to change my flight?’
‘Maybe. If you’ve changed your priorities.’ She stopped herself abruptly. ‘Heck, what do I know? I’m not the brain box of the family.’
His eyes were not only intense, they were very shrewd.
‘So what are you in the family? The beauty?’
Bella gave a harsh little laugh. ‘You could say so. Much good it’s done me.’
His smile was a caress. ‘It’s pretty damned good for everyone else.’
‘Oh.’ The compliment took her aback. He had not seemed to be the sort of man to pay compliments. ‘Thank you.’
He lifted his cup of coffee, toasting her silently. ‘You’re gorgeous.’
This time it did not sound so much of a compliment. More a kind of assessment, like her mother taking stock of what she had in her store cup
board.
Bella said slowly, ‘You don’t sound pleased about it.’
He made an impatient movement. ‘Pleased? Hell, no. It’s just another added complication.’
Bella stared. ‘Complication of what, for heaven’s sake?’
‘You, me and the advanced class in pair-bonding,’ Gil answered literally
‘What?’
‘Well, we skipped stages two through five right there on the dance floor tonight.’
Bella sat bolt upright.
‘No, we didn’t. We didn’t skip one single stage,’ she said outraged. ‘Your chat-up technique definitely needs attention.’
‘No technique,’ he said, spreading his hands eloquently.
‘You can say that again,’ muttered Bella
‘Not when it’s important. This isn’t a game. And, anyway, I’m not a player,’ he added with a grimace. ‘Not usually.’
‘So what are you?’
He leaned forward, suddenly not laughing at all. ‘A man in a hurry.’
Bella met his eyes. She did not want to. But she could not withstand that silent insistence. She saw he meant it.
He took her gloved hand and held it between both of his, as if that would somehow make her understand.
‘I can’t tell you how awful the timing is. Not just the flight tomorrow—no, today. Everything. I can’t tell you how much I’ve got to clear up before I can even think about dating.’
Bella withdrew her hand. ‘You’re married,’ she said flatly.
That stopped him dead in his tracks. ‘What?’
She felt a mild triumph. He was so totally blank. He had not seen that coming. Even now he could not quite believe she had seen through him.
Suddenly Bella began to feel in control again. She almost forgave him his deception. She was still a sophisticate in three continents. Nobody need feel sorry for her.
‘Your wife doesn’t understand you?’ she suggested tolerantly. She had heard it before and, oddly, it was one of the things she could deal with, unlike the roller-coaster of uncertainty that Gil Whoever-he-was had put her on up to now. ‘The moment you saw me you knew I was the sort of girl who would appreciate how hard you have to work. Or how much you have to travel. Or the time you have to spend with clients.’
He was utterly silenced.
She raised a mocking eyebrow. ‘Is that one of the steps you think we skipped at Hombre?’
For the first time he looked at her as if she was a stranger.
‘Go out with a lot of married men, do you?’ he asked at last, slowly.
‘You don’t have to go out with them to get to know the spiel.’
His face was unfreezing again. The wide, full-lipped mouth was still eloquent even in the crude neon lighting of the diner. It gave him the brooding mystery of one of the Regency rake poets. And the air of a man who would say any damned thing he liked.
She was still startled when he said coolly, ‘Are you naturally cynical? Or has somebody hurt you?’
She jumped as if she had driven a splinter under her fingernail. He watched, interested.
‘Still in recovery, are you?’
Bella folded her lips into a thin line to stop them trembling. ‘None of your business.’
‘Don’t worry. You’ll get over it. We all do.’
Suddenly she didn’t want to talk to him any more. No matter how exciting he was on the dance floor, this was altogether too dangerous to her peace of mind.
She drained her cup and looked at her watch.
He sighed. ‘All right. I’m insensitive. Always was. But I’ll be sensitive later, when there’s time. Tonight—’
‘This morning,’ corrected Bella with a wide, false smile. ‘And late. I really need to get home.’
She stood up.
He said, ‘Stay. Just for five minutes.’
But she was not looking at him. Not at the wide dark eyes that could go from melting to mocking with such disconcerting speed. Not at the mobile, expressive mouth. Not at his un-gloved hands.
‘But we still don’t know anything about each other.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said drily. ‘You’ve taken a few layers of skin off me. How much more do you want?’
She eased out from behind the table and pulled her big shoulder bag in front of her.
‘You don’t know anything about me.’
‘I know as much as I want.’
She held out her hand to him to shake hands and say goodbye. He did not take it.
Instead he got up too and threw some notes down on the table without looking.
‘At least let me get you a cab.’
She shook her head. ‘Not necessary. I only live a couple of blocks. I can walk. If we see a cab, you’d do much better to take it yourself.’
The sensual mouth set in a stubborn line. ‘I’ll walk you.’
She shrugged, indifferent. They went out into the street.
‘You’re not the least bit worried, are you? You think you can handle me,’ he said in an odd voice.
Bella huddled her coat up round her ears. She was only too aware that, underneath it, she was wearing silken straps and a bare midriff.
‘You’re not going to jump on me in the middle of the street. It’s too cold.’
‘Cold is the ultimate passion killer?’
His breath turned to smoke in the icy air. She was conscious of a sudden flicker of that awareness again. Under her chilly flesh there was warmth and it was turning to him.
She said breathlessly, ‘Usually works, yes.’
She was striding out, almost running. To speed up her circulation, she assured herself. Not to get away from the disturbing feeling that if she let him put his arm round her he could keep her safe and warm for ever.
He kept pace with her without effort. She remembered how, in the club, she had had the sensation of extreme fitness. Now it was confirmed. He kept up a steady monologue.
‘I’m thirty-three. No wife. No dependants of any kind. I live in Cambridge—that’s Cambridge, England—but I travel a lot. I don’t like being tied down. And I only do one thing at a time.’
‘What do you do?’ Bella said, in spite of herself.
He seemed to hesitate. But it was so brief that she could not be sure.
‘Research,’ he said vaguely. ‘I’m a sort of boffin.’
She snorted derisively. ‘A boffin with a management consultant on the staff? What do you research into? How to make a million on the Internet?’
He looked annoyed. At least, she was not looking into his face but he felt annoyed. His long legs ate up the paving stones until she had to break into a trot to keep up with him.
‘You’ve got a good memory. I barely mentioned my management consultant.’
She was puffing. ‘I told you I knew something about you.’
‘You told me you knew as much as you wanted to.’ He sounded angry and suspicious. ‘Was that it? Man with a management consultant must be a good bet?’
Bella was furious. ‘What do you think I am, an industrial spy?’ she panted.
He stopped suddenly and swung round on her. ‘Well?’
She stopped too with relief. She had a stitch. Pride prevented her from putting a hand to it. But not all the pride in the world could stop her grateful in-draught of breath.
‘If you remember you were the one who came on to me,’ she pointed out when she could speak. ‘I’ve been trying to get rid of you half the evening.’
They were two doors from the brownstone where she had the top-floor apartment.
‘And now I’m home. So goodnight.’
She offered an ironic handshake. It did not turn out like that. He took her hand and pulled her towards him.
Bella felt her feet skid on the icy pavement. She fell forward into his arms.
In a second that seemed like a lifetime, she saw his eyes widen. Then narrow…focus on her mouth…grow dark with desire…
Bella found that it was not too cold for a kiss. A kiss so pass
ionate that it seemed to light up the sky. A kiss so intimate that it set her blood humming, reminding her that under the coat she was nearly naked. A kiss so new that it left her shaken and silenced when he put her away from him.
It seemed to have shaken him too. He looked down at her, unsmiling.
Under his breath he said, ‘This is crazy.’
‘Yes,’ said Bella, stunned.
He looked at the stone steps to her front door.
‘Let me come up.’
She nearly did. So nearly. And not because she did not want to be alone in the cold blue morning.
But then she looked at that curly rakish mouth and got a grip.
‘Oh, you can’t risk me prising any more of your secrets out of you,’ she said nastily.
And ran away from him, her feet slipping every which way on the icy surface. Bella did not care. She had her key out as she ran up the steps. She did not know if he tried to follow her. But she closed the door and leaned against it with her heart hammering.
‘The sooner he gets on that damned flight of his the better,’ she muttered.
She ran all the way up the stairs to her flat as if he was watching her and it was a point of honour not to stop and look back.
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS an interesting night.
For weeks, months, every time Bella had closed her eyes, she had seen nothing but her own horrible mistakes. This time there was someone else in her head. Well, he was so insistent, he might as well have been in her head. Everything he’d said echoed.
‘You look like a girl who likes to live on the edge.’
What made him say that? Was it true?
‘We exchanged pheromones.’
‘Oh we did,’ said Bella into the privacy of her mangled pillows. She would never have admitted it to anyone else. She shivered and pulled the duvet up to her chin.
‘You felt it too.’
She sat up and the duvet fell. ‘No I didn’t,’ she said loudly.
‘Let me come up.’
And if she had?
This is crazy, she told herself. Too much emotion followed by too much salsa. I have never reacted to a man like that in my life. It isn’t even as if I’m looking for a relationship. I know I’ve got to get over Kosta before I can do that. If I ever do.
The Bridesmaid's Secret Page 4