He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I do not control how other people think.’
‘You’ll have to sleep on the sofa.’
‘I think not. I will be sleeping on that big, comfortable bed. If you wish to join me...?’ He raised an eyebrow in invitation.
She blinked in shock.
Had that really been a suggestive tone in his voice? Surely not...
Unnerved, she took a step back.
Nico sat up and rested his forearms on his thighs, openly studying her. ‘Does the thought of sharing a bed with me scare you?’
‘Of course not,’ she lied, inching back a little further—as far as the edge of the desk. He was still too close, but there was no way she was going to scurry off like a frightened rabbit just because he was close enough for her to smell his fruity scent.
They had worked side-by-side for the best part of a year and his scent had hardly ever been a problem for her—at least not until the last few months of her tenure. That had been one of the reasons she had turned down his offer of a permanent position. Nico smelled far too good for her sensibility.
‘Then what is your problem?’ His eyes gave a sudden gleam. ‘Worried I won’t be able to keep my hands off you?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ As if Nico had ever looked at her with anything other than platonic eyes.
‘Why would you think that ridiculous? You’re an attractive woman—sharing a bed with you would be a temptation for any man.’
To her horror, she felt her neck burn. She turned her head, unable to look at him, suddenly scared of what he would see. ‘Now you are being ridiculous.’
His voice dropped to a murmur. ‘I’ve thought about you a lot these past few weeks.’
She fixed her gaze on a pretty landscape painting on the wall. ‘Sure you have.’
He had the audacity to laugh, with a low, gravelly timbre that sent tiny tingles dancing on her skin.
‘You are angry with me for not spending any time with you. That would have been easily rectified if you were still working for me. You would have travelled with me.’
‘Your ego astounds me.’ She paused to swallow a lump that had formed in her throat. ‘However, if your idea of getting me to change my mind about our marriage was to leave me alone for a fortnight, it was one heck of a rubbish plan.’
‘I had matters to arrange and business to tie up before this trip.’ He leaned closer and cupped the curve of her neck. ‘Did you miss me?’
His unexpected action caught her off-guard. She would not have been more surprised if he had told her he was gay. She could understand the arm around her waist when they had been with Robert—Nico was doing all in his power to set her up to look a liar and a fool if she went down the annulment route—but this?
She had to fight with everything she had not to respond to the feel of his warm palm against her sensitised skin. She would not fall into his blatant trap.
‘No.’ She pulled away from his clasp—his second touch in less than an hour. ‘I didn’t miss you. Now, will you stop playing games? It’s making me uncomfortable.’
His lips curved slightly. ‘I am not playing games.’
‘That’s what it feels like.’
‘You agreed to give me the chance to prove our marriage deserves another shot.’
‘So far you have failed spectacularly. And pretending you find me attractive is not the way to go about it either.’ Not after eleven months of complete uninterest.
‘Have you considered that maybe I am not acting?’
The breath caught in her throat. If she hadn’t already known how indifferent he was to her physically, she might almost have believed him.
She dragged air into her lungs and took a step to the side. ‘Actually, no. I don’t believe that for a second. You don’t find me attractive. You’re just using your masculinity to try and drive me into some kind of feminine stupor. You think I will fall for your charms and thus save you the unpleasantness of a public divorce—and save you from the hundreds of women who will come beating on your door, begging to be the new Mrs Baranski.’
He stilled, his eyes narrowing. ‘You have me all figured out.’
‘You’re an easy read.’
What else could it be? Their marriage hadn’t just been platonic, it had been positively frigid. Intellectually, they got along beautifully. They could talk business until the sun came up. But there had been no physical contact of any kind, not even when they had drunk more vodka together than was good for them. They would attend functions where couples were together in every sense of the word—holding hands, sneaking kisses. For all their cordiality, she and Nico wouldn’t even wipe a fragment of lint from each other’s clothing.