‘It’s the first time I’ve known you lost for words,’ he commented with amusement as she gave a shaking groan.
‘It’s not my words I’ve lost, it’s my dress. Aren’t you even going to apologise?’
Xavier shrugged and his lips pressed down as he thought about it. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, slipp
ing his hand between her legs. ‘Could you possibly ease your thighs apart?’
‘That is not what I meant, and you know it,’ she exclaimed on a gasp of shock.
‘No, but it’s what you want,’ he said. ‘So relax. Forget about the party and leave everything to me—’
She woke up like a shot. This encounter meant nothing to Xavier, but if she let him steamroller this too, her cause would be out of the window. She’d seen first-hand at the orphanage how destructive casual sex could be; someone always got hurt.
‘Rosie? Rosie, what’s wrong?’
Xavier’s concern broke through to her. In his favour, he backed off the moment he felt her resistance, but now she was trapped in the past. Wiping a hand across her face, she tried to shake the ugliness out of her head. She must learn to move forward, and not become a victim of circumstance, which meant not doing something now she might live to regret.
The cocktail party was still in full swing outside the door. A tense silence had fallen inside the room. Then, an exuberant partygoer crashed into the door and the noise brought Rosie to her senses. ‘What am I going to do about the dress?’
‘There’s a solution to every problem,’ Xavier assured her.
‘Even this one?’ she queried sceptically.
‘Of course.’ Picking up the phone on his desk, he held her gaze as he pressed speed dial. ‘Margaret? I’m in my study. I need you to do something for me.’
* * *
Margaret was a genius. She handed a shirt through the door, and made no comment when Xavier left the room to join his guests.
‘I brought some dresses for you,’ she called out to Rosie.
‘Come in,’ Rosie invited warmly, having kicked her ruined clothes beneath the desk. Luckily, some interior decorator had thought a fine cashmere throw would look amazing on one of the sofas and she was using it as a cover-up, so there was no embarrassment—well, not much on her side, and even less on the unshockable Margaret’s side.
Once the door was safely closed behind her, Margaret held up the selection of dresses for Rosie to choose from.
‘I can’t thank you enough,’ Rosie exclaimed with relief.
‘I’m only sorry it took so long. Problems are my speciality, but miracles take a little longer.’ Margaret eyed Rosie keenly. ‘Xavier said you spilt something down the front of your dress?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘So I took the liberty of bringing underwear along as well.’ She plonked down the boxes she had stuffed beneath her arm. ‘Hope I got your size right. All I had to go on was our meeting on the island, and again tonight when you walked into the room.’
‘I’m just so grateful, I’d grovel for a hessian sack tied with a piece of rope, but these are amazing. Thank you. It saves sneaking away wrapped in a throw.’
‘I can’t imagine you sneaking anywhere,’ Margaret said frankly.
‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’
‘Nonsense,’ Margaret insisted. ‘You would have walked through that door with your head held high, and to hell with what anyone thought.’
Rosie grinned. ‘You’re probably right.’
‘That little red number hit the bin, I imagine?’ Margaret said, looking at her shrewdly.
‘You saw it?’
They both laughed.
‘I would have come to your rescue sooner at the party,’ Margaret explained with a rueful grimace. ‘I could see how rude people were being to you, but I was talking to the ambassador at the time, and he’s one person I can’t ditch.’
‘Please don’t apologise. You’ve done enough for me as it is.’