She had never felt so vulnerable and defenceless, and something of what she was feeling must have shown in her face because he said, his voice soft and steady, ‘It’s all right, Sephy. I’m not here to fight.’
‘I…I thought you were Maisie,’ she murmured breathlessly.
‘Ah, the coffee and croissants, right?’
It was the smile that did it.
He could smile. He could actually smile like that, as though nothing was wrong, when he had all but ripped her heart out by its roots in this very room not three days ago, Sephy thought bitterly. But at least his casual demeanour had the effect of putting adrenalin in her veins and steel in her backbone.
He probably expected her to beg and plead or cry buckets, but she’d rather be hung, drawn and quartered! Pride and dignity were poor bedfellows but they were all that was left to her, and by golly she intended to hang on to them.
In the past she had always tried to make things easy between them by filling in any awkward silences with chatter, but now she lifted her head slightly and continued to stare at him without speaking. She was blowed if she was going to speak next.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked after a few endless seconds.
‘I’m fine,’ she said tightly.
‘Rubbish. How are you feeling?’
Typical Conrad! Well, if he wanted the truth he could have it. ‘Tired, my throat’s sore, the headache I thought had gone is returning—’ since you walked through the door ‘—and I ache all over. Okay?’ she snapped testily. ‘Satisfied?’
‘You really are in a bad mood, aren’t you?’ he drawled lazily, and then, as she opened her mouth to fire back, he added, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t realise you were ill on Saturday, Sephy.’
She shrugged, and then as the towel slipped a little decided she wouldn’t do that again. ‘It wouldn’t have made any difference. We had things to say and we said them,’ she said shortly.
Why did he have to look so good in a suit and tie? Why did he have to look so good in anything? she asked herself silently.
‘The
doctor told me you are extremely run down and could do with a break,’ Conrad said quietly. ‘All those months of working all hours for me started a downward spiral, no doubt.’
She had to get something on other than this towel! ‘Look, I won’t be a moment,’ she said curtly, before walking quickly into the bedroom and shutting the door. She stood for a second, her heart thumping so hard it made her feel dizzy, and then pulled on a baggy T-shirt and a pair of panties before slipping into her robe and jerking the belt tight. Psychologically fortified, she opened the door and walked into the sitting room, saying, ‘Conrad, why did you come back on Saturday? Maisie told me.’
‘Ah, yes, Maisie.’ He frowned, and then said with grudging generosity, ‘She’s a good friend.’
‘Yes, she is.’ And Maisie knew as well as she did that her present exhaustion was due to the fact she’d lived on her nerves from the first day she had worked for Conrad Quentin. And it had got worse, a million times worse, since she’d agreed to his preposterous demand that they see each other. And she also knew, as she stared at his dear face, that she could never go back to that, even if the pain of losing him continued to the day she died. She felt light-headed, and sank down quickly on the sofa as she said, ‘Please go.’
His guilt she could do without, and it was clear pity was the only thing he felt for her. Not once since he had walked through the door had he made any attempt to touch her, and she found she couldn’t bear it. She just couldn’t bear it.
‘Not yet.’
To her horror he walked across and knelt back on his heels in front of her, the pose stretching material tight over hard male thighs and bringing the scent and warmth of him too close for comfort. He was looking straight into her eyes now, his dark head on a level with hers and the blue of his eyes piercing.
His voice dropped an octave as he said, ‘Do you trust me, Sephy?’ The tone was cool and almost expressionless.
‘What?’ Of all the things she had expected him to say it wasn’t this. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I need to know about this man, this David.’ His eyes watched his words sink in, and as hot colour stained her white face he leant a little closer, not touching her with any part of himself yet enveloping her with his magnetic pull. ‘I’ve no right to ask—after Saturday I haven’t even got the right to be here, as Maisie’s pointed out more than once—but nevertheless…’
‘I…I can’t.’ She took a deep breath and managed to say, ‘We’re not seeing each other any more so what’s the point?’
‘I need to know, Sephy,’ he said softly, his eyes never leaving her face for a moment. ‘Believe me, I really need to know.’
She expelled a shuddering breath as her stomach churned violently. She could see this meant a great deal, but she didn’t understand why, and the humiliation and pain of having to tell was too much. And it wasn’t fair to ask, not now.
‘Please?’ It was said very, very softly.
He had never said that word before, and he had never looked at her as he was doing now. She couldn’t read what was in his eyes but it was clear he was in the grip of something that was tearing him apart. And in spite of everything she couldn’t bear that.