‘Do what?’ Though he could see what she meant in the surprise widening her eyes.
‘Talk about the past, the accident...’
‘It’s not good to keep it all locked inside.’
Says the man who never talks of Elena.
‘It seems we have quite the pasts to share,’ she said quietly.
‘Yes... I suppose we do.’
But her past...hers was the true pain of loss, shrouded in a guilt she shouldn’t feel. Not like his guilt. His was deserved and it was the reason he couldn’t accept her sympathy. Or anyone’s love, for that matter.
With Elena he’d not only proved himself incapable of loving another, he’d proved himself unworthy of it too. He hadn’t deserved her, and he certainly didn’t deserve Sophia now.
He withdrew his hands and sat back in his seat once more.
He didn’t deserve anyone.
CHAPTER FOUR
SOPHIA WAS IN HEAVEN.
It was the only way to describe the candlelit luxury of her surroundings and the calibre of the man sitting opposite her. No amount of reminding herself that this was temporary, just a thank-you meal to keep his daughter sweet, could dissuade her from getting wrapped up in him and his world.
As for the restaurant, everyone in the service industry knew of it with its numerous awards, accolades and several-months-long waiting list. She shouldn’t really be surprised that Jack of all people had managed to secure a last-minute reservation, although people like him probably had a table kept in their name just on the off-chance they’d swing by. They’d certainly made him—no, the two of them—feel like royalty the second they’d arrived.
She spooned up her decadent chocolate dessert and in spite of being stuffed to the brim she couldn’t resist its rich, salty-sweet goodness. Much as she couldn’t resist discreetly devouring the sight of the man who’d recommended it. And with the wine, the pleasurable food and his stimulating conversation she was getting less discreet by the mouthful.
Now, as her eyes lifted to his, she paused, the spoon hovering halfway to her mouth. He was watching her, the dark intensity in his gaze making her pulse dance.
‘What?’ she asked, lowering the spoon just a little.
‘You like your food.’
It was an observation, a simple statement of fact, but her cheeks burned. Her mother’s teasing coming back from their childhood: Did you inhale it?
‘I’m sorry.’
She placed the spoon back on the plate and smoothed her palm over her belly, her eyes falling away from his. Thoughts of her family always made her stomach swim. Seconds ago, she’d been floating in the clouds, loving every second, now she plummeted back to earth with a bump.
His grin was as swift as the shake of his head. ‘Don’t apologise.’
He leaned forward, his elbows pressing into the table as he rested his chin on his folded hands, that intense gaze still on her and making her forget the momentary nausea. ‘It’s a nice change, eating with someone who doesn’t play with their food.’
‘Are we back to talking about Lily again?’
He gave a soft laugh. ‘No, she’s as eager as you... I meant—’ He broke off, another shake of his head.
‘You meant...?’
Leaning back in his seat, he took up the napkin and raised it to his lips. Her eyes traced the move, the swipe of the cotton against their teasing curve, their appealing softness... What would it feel like to press her own lips against them, to catch the lower one in hers, to lick...? Promptly, she lifted her spoon and stuffed it inside her own mouth. There would be no kissing, no licking, no nothing.
She feasted on the dessert, slowly savouring the taste explosion as she tried to douse the heat unfurling low in her belly. But it was no use. It continued to flare, stoked by the way his own eyes watched her devouring the heady chocolate.
‘I was going to say...’ his voice had turned gruff, its edge at odds with the calm way in which he folded the napkin onto his plate ‘...it makes a change from the women I’m used to eating with.’
She felt the oddest spark of jealousy and quickly stamped it out with another spoon of heaven. Her taste buds sang while her brain talked her down. He wasn’t hers to get jealous over. He never would be. It was ridiculous even to feel it.
But she had.
So much for not getting carried away. First kissing fantasies, and now jealousy! She wanted to roll her eyes at herself.
‘Do you date often then?’ The question came out smoothly, controlled, just as she’d hoped, but his sudden frown had her worrying she’d overstepped.
‘No.’
It was abrupt, severe. Was he thinking of his wife again?
In the car she’d felt his grief, seen it echoed back at her when she’d told him things she’d never told another soul because she’d been powerless to stop the words from flowing. She’d felt the connection, the understanding, the ability to let go of it just a little with someone who had also loved and lost.
‘Not a lot anyway. I don’t really have the time,’ he added, softer now. ‘Work takes up most of it, Lily the rest.’
Her heart eased a little, her smile lifting with it. ‘I can believe it.’
‘What about you?’ He held her eye, the candlelight flickering in the darkened depths of his, making her forget how to breathe, how to blink, his attention making her feel almost drunk with it.
‘Me?’ She was stalling but, despite how much she’d already opened up to him, she wasn’t ready to confess the sorry state of her love life. Not that she’d ever considered it ‘sorry’ before...
‘Yes,’ he pressed. ‘You’re beautiful, intelligent, quite the catch. I’m sure you must get invited out often.’
Beautiful. Intelligent. Quite the catch.
Now she laughed, her head shaking incredulously as she covered her mouth with her hand. ‘You, Mr McGregor, really are a charmer.’
‘I only speak the truth.’
Did he? Was that really how he saw her?
She didn’t like the way her body reacted to the idea. No, correction. She loved how her body reacted, and that was the problem.
‘Sorry. I’ve made you uncomfortable.’
Was she really that obvious? Or did he just have a knack for reading her?
‘You haven’t. Or, rather, you have, but it’s not your fault,’ she assured him, taking up her wine glass for a confidence-boosting gulp. She had no need to lie. It wasn’t as if she was there to impress him. And soon he would be gone, and she would be forgotten, so she might as well be honest. ‘Truth is, I’ve never dated.’
His eyes widened, his shock permeating the air and making her cheeks burn anew in spite of her confident mental reasoning seconds before.
‘Never?’
She shook her head.
‘I take it you’ve always been in relationships instead. Friends that became more?’
His voice drifted off at the continued shaking of her head.
‘No...relationships?’
She swallowed another sip of wine, knowing full well that her skin likely matched the blazing colour of her hair now. And she could hardly backtrack; she’d already said too much.
‘I’ve always worked hard,’ she tried to explain, grateful that her voice was level enough, her eyes still fixed on his, ‘whether it was studying for exams at school, university or pushing my career, and I haven’t had the time for it.’
‘But...there must have been someone...at some point?’
She shook her head. ‘You can consider yourself my first date—date-that’s-not-a-date,’ she swiftly added.
He studied her for so long, his face unreadable and, boy, was she trying. He was probably assessing her V plates right now and labelling her as some kind of freak.
‘It’s not that weird, surely?’ She took another swig of wine. ‘It’s no
t like I’ve sprouted three heads.’
She was trying to lighten the mood and was relieved when he laughed. She wanted their easy footing back. They’d enjoyed it all through dinner when they’d talked of work, Lily, favourite foods, nothing serious. Not like in the car...
She shifted in her seat as she felt a line being drawn in the virtual sand. One side safe, platonic, friendly. The other... She wet her lips.
She knew which side her body wanted to be on.
And it wasn’t the same as her single, solitary head.
‘No, definitely not three heads...’ His eyes fell to her recently glossed mouth. ‘But you are quite fascinating, Ms Lambert.’
* * *
Jack watched her lips part, her cheeks flush deeper, their freckled warmth a delightful contrast to her sparkling blue gaze. Did she really have no idea how beautiful she was? That the reason her confession stunned him came from his disbelief that a woman with her qualities had avoided anything close to a relationship all these years? And what a waste that was...
‘Fascinating?’ She averted her eyes for a second, reached for her wine glass and took another sip, the rich red liquid disappearing swiftly now that their conversation had taken a more personal turn.
‘You, Jack...’ she waved the glass at him ‘...really are a master of flirtation... Rusty, nuh-uh.’
She shook her head as she made reference to their conversation the previous night, but he didn’t comment, only asked the question he was eager to have answered now. ‘How old are you?’
‘Okay, scratch that last one,’ she scoffed. ‘Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to ask a woman her age?’
She paled as soon as the words were out, her wine glass deposited and her hand reaching across the table to rest upon his arm. ‘I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have... I forgot, I didn’t think—’
‘Hey, it’s fine,’ he assured her, cutting off her panicked apology that she needn’t give. ‘I’ve been fielding questions like that for years; it’s second nature now. Am I to take it you’ve been reading up on me?’ He cocked an eyebrow at her, projecting a jovial arrogance in the hope that she would see that her words didn’t sting.
The colour returned to her cheeks just as quickly, her hand pulling away to stroke the back of her neck. ‘Maybe...just a little.’
‘A little?’
‘Okay, a lot... I happen to find you quite fascinating too, Jack.’
His eyes were lost in the blazing sincerity of hers, his ears ringing with the heat of her admission. Touché.
‘You fancy taking a stroll before I take you home?’
He wasn’t ready to be out of her company and was relieved to see her smile.
‘I’d like that and... I’m twenty-four.’
‘Twenty-four?’ He raised his brow. ‘That’s quite an achievement, to get where you have at your age.’
‘Now you sound patronising.’
He laughed at the scowl she sent him and gestured over her head for the bill, his eyes coming back to her, appreciative, sincere. ‘No, I’m just impressed. I have almost ten years on you to get where I have.’
‘Yes, well, I can’t see me getting anywhere close to you in another twenty, let alone ten. Try as I might.’ She winked on the last, her easy laughter carrying across the table and warming him through.
‘Your parents must be proud?’
The second his words registered, he felt the sudden chill that came over her, her words wooden as she said, ‘I guess.’
‘You guess?’ Had she lost them as well as her sister? Had he inadvertently put his foot in it too? ‘I’m sorry, are they...are they not around any more?’
She took a breath and looked away, a hand smoothing over her hair. ‘No, they’re very much around...we’re just not close.’
‘How come?’ He couldn’t understand it. The way she’d handled Lily, the love she had for the sister she’d lost, he’d expected them to be close. He certainly hadn’t expected to put her on edge. And though he wanted the blush back in her cheeks, the fire in her eyes, the laughter, he wanted to understand more.
‘We drifted apart when...when Amy died.’
She lowered her eyes to her lap, to where her hands now were, and he knew she twisted them together just as she had in the car.
He reached across the table, his hand resting beside her wine glass, and her eyes came back to him.
‘They must miss you,’ he said. ‘I can’t imagine losing Lily, to know that she is somewhere in the world and not be close to her.’
‘I’m not sure.’ She looked back to her hands as she paused. ‘I think I’m a constant reminder of what they lost.’
He shook his head, but she wasn’t looking at him.
‘We don’t really talk. We used to, before... Everything was different then, but after... I just couldn’t face them, I didn’t want to see the blame in their eyes, you know.’ She gave a shrug and looked to him, her tormented gaze tugging at him.
‘They wouldn’t have blamed you,’ he said softly.
She gave a shake of her head and reached out for her wine glass. ‘It’s how it felt. It was far easier to stay out of their way.’
‘And so you locked yourself away?’
‘Pretty much. Now it’s just the norm.’
‘Don’t you have any other brothers, sisters?’
‘No. Just me.’
Her voice was strained. His own, low and husky as he asked, ‘Is that why you work so hard?’
Her eyes flicked to his, a surprising smile playing about her lips. ‘Are you psychoanalysing me, Jack?’
His chest tightened. ‘I guess I am.’
She shook her head some more, her smile indulging him. ‘I have a need to prove myself, to succeed, to make my life worthy, if the therapist in you needs to know...’ She looked away from him and her smile fell, her voice turning distant. ‘I was the one who survived after all. I owe it to Amy to achieve.’
‘There’s achievement and then there’s happiness, Sophia.’ He pulled her attention back to him, his eyes searching hers and looking for the truth. ‘Are you happy?’
She shrugged but he knew it was a front for what was really happening beneath the surface, behind her swirling blues.
‘What’s not to be happy about?’ Her voice was steady, level, defiant. ‘I’m the youngest hotel manager Devereaux Leisure has ever seen; I can afford my own apartment in London and I don’t need a man or flatmate to do it. There aren’t many twenty-four-year-olds who can claim the same.’
‘But are you happy?’
He knew the answer; he could read it in her forced nonchalance, the way her fingers shook a little as she raised the glass to her lips and finished her wine.
‘I’m happy enough.’
‘I think Amy would want you to be happy above all else... Your parents too.’
Her throat bobbed, her eyes glistened, and he suddenly felt like the worst man in the world to make her suffer. He’d gone too far.
‘Okay, Mr Know-It-All,’ she suddenly fired at him. ‘Tell me, are you happy?’
He should have expected it, her turning the tables on him. But he felt no more prepared, no more capable of giving an honest answer. And he didn’t need to give one as the bill arrived. He placed his card on the small metal tray without looking, his eyes locked with her probing ones.
And he realised, for the first time in a long time, he did feel a sense of happiness, of being where he belonged, sitting across from a woman who sparked such feelings that he was torn between running for the hills and taking her home. And the latter could only ever end badly. She deserved more than what he could ever give her.
So why aren’t you bringing an end to it now? Why aren’t you walking away?
He couldn’t explain it. It was impulsive—the need to be with her, to get to know her—and impossible to resis
t.
That realisation should have had him running too. Instead, he was looking into her eyes and telling himself it would be okay. He just had to be careful. Controlled. Sensible.
He ran a billion-pound empire so they were qualities he possessed in spades, and he should be able to rely on them now. But as he continued to lose himself in her gaze, he started to doubt even himself.
‘Sir?’
It was the waiter, offering the card machine and judging by the amusement he could spy in Sophia’s gaze it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get his attention.
Careful. Controlled. Sensible. Restrained.
He punched in his PIN with each word.
He started to rise. ‘Shall we?’
‘Good to have you back in the room, Jack.’
Her eyes sparkled with her teasing, her humour reaching right inside him and warming him through, pushing out the panic, the worry, the warning sounds in his head.
He offered his hand to her and she slipped her fingers into his, getting to her feet, all the while her eyes locked with his.
She was beautiful, she was funny and, without thinking any further, he leant in, his mouth brushing beside her ear. ‘You make me feel happy.’
CHAPTER FIVE
AS THEY STEPPED out into the brisk winter’s night Sophia shivered. Not from the chilling wind that whipped around them, but from the memory of his touch against her ear. It had hardly been there at all—just the brush of his lips. But the power of it...
‘Are you cold?’ He frowned down at her, clearly spying the tremor and misreading its cause. ‘Maybe a walk isn’t such a great idea.’
‘No, no, it would be nice to get some fresh air. I don’t make enough time for it these days.’ She pulled her thick woollen coat tightly around her and smiled up at him. ‘But if you want to wuss out?’
He grinned, his arm hooking around her waist and setting off a new string of fireworks inside.
‘No way.’
Was he as surprised as she at the protective gesture? If he was, he didn’t make any show of it. Instead, they walked in step with one another, completely at ease as though they’d been doing it for years, when in reality she’d never walked like this before, a man’s arm around her.
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