But even as she made that bitter statement he could see his kiss still clinging to the swollen fullness of her lips. The tip of her tongue could not resist making a sensual swipe across them in an effort to cool their pulsing heat. He mimicked the action with his own tongue, saw her breath shorten and her throat move convulsively. The old vibrations came to dance between them. The air became filled with the heady promise of sex. They had been here before, felt this before. Only then they had been eager to follow where those senses led them.
Now…?
‘It means nothing any more,’ she said and broke eye contact.
Was she referring to the ring or the sexual pull? he mused, and decided to deal with the former because the latter, he knew, was going to take care of itself in the not too distant future.
Leaning forward, he brought his forearms to rest on the top of the small wooden table, forcing a wary glance from her because she wasn’t sure what was coming next. Once he had her gaze, he drew it down with the slow lowering of his lashes and let her watch as he worked his own ring free from his finger then placed it next to hers.
She was so very still he knew she understood what he was doing. The pulse in his throat began to pound. The two rings lay side by side in the sunlight, one large, one small, both an exact match to the other, with their gloss smooth outer surface and the inner circle marked by an inscription that said My heart is here.
How could he have forgotten that when he’d stood upon the deck of his yacht in San Estéban complacently making plans to finish their marriage? How could she have forgotten it when she tossed her ring back at him with such contempt earlier today? They had done this together. They had chosen these rings with their arms around each other, and hadn’t cared how soft and stupidly romantic they must have appeared as they’d made the decision to have those words inscribed in those inner circles so they would always rest next to their skins!
‘Now tell me it means nothing.’ He laid down the rasping challenge as he watched her face grow pale. ‘If you can bear to walk away and leave your ring on this table, then I will do the same. If you cannot bear to do that, put it back on your finger and we will talk about where we can go from here.’
Her tongue made a foray of her lips again. His teeth came together with a snap to stop him from moving close enough so his own tongue could follow in its wake. She was his, and the sooner she came to accept that the sooner they could work out their problems.
‘The divorce—’
‘The ring,’ he prompted firmly.
She swallowed tensely. The mood began to sizzle with the threat of his challenge and her defiant need to get up and walk away.
But she could not do it. In the end and with a lightning flash of fury, she reached out, snatched her ring up and pushed it back onto her finger.
It went on easily because it belonged there. The next lightning bolt came his way. ‘Now what? Do we go back to your office and talk divorce settlements again?’
Her waspish tone didn’t hide anything. She was shaking all over and almost on the point of tears. She wanted him. She could not let him go. His ring was back where it belonged and he’d never felt so good about anything in a long time. Picking up his own ring, he slid it back where it belonged then sat back with a sigh.
‘No,’ he answered her question. ‘We go somewhere more private where we can talk.’
Her look poured scorn all over that lying suggestion. She knew what he was intending. She was no fool. ‘Try again, Leandros,’ she murmured bitterly.
‘Dinner, then. Tonight,’ he came back. ‘We will drive out of the city to that place you like in the mountains. Eat good food, drink champagne and reminisce over the good points in our marriage.’
His mockery flicked her temper to life, and he was pleased to see it happen because it was just the mood h
e was pushing for. Put Isobel in a rage and you had yourself an easy target, because as one guard fell the others quickly followed. So he relaxed back and waited for the sarcastic, What good points? to come slashing back at him. But what he actually got threw him completely.
‘Sorry, my darling,’ she drawled. ‘But I already have a date tonight.’
Just like that it was his own temper deserted him. The lion inside him roared. He retaliated with swift and cruelly cutting incision. ‘And there I was about to break my date with Diantha for you. But—no matter, you may bring your lover; we will make it a foursome. Maybe we will go home with different partners. Who knows?’ He added a casual shrug. ‘Maybe I will ache like this for Diantha and all my problems will be solved.’
He knew the moment he had shut his mouth that he had made some terrible tactical mistake. She’d gone so white he thought she might be going to faint away on him and her eyes stood out like two deep green pits of pain. She was standing up, not in anger, but on legs that did not wish to support her.
‘I was referring to my mother,’ she breathed, and this time she did walk away.
CHAPTER FOUR
YOU little liar, Isobel accused as she made good her escape. You meant what he thought you meant. What you didn’t expect was the counter-thrust that punched another hole in your stupid heart!
But he wasn’t coming after her, which probably meant they were back to square one, she thought heavily. Why am I here? Why am I letting him get to me like this? A three-year long separation should have dulled these wretched emotions out of existence!
The hotel was only a short walk away but by the time she arrived there she had the beginnings of a headache, so the last thing she needed was to walk into the hotel foyer and straight into a bored and weary reception party. Her mother, Clive and Lester Miles were all sitting on the few comfortable chairs the dingy foyer possessed. On a low table in front of them lay the remains of an indifferent-looking afternoon tea.
‘Where have you been?’ her mother demanded the moment she saw her. ‘I’ve been worrying myself sick about you.’
‘But I left you a message at Reception,’ she said frowningly as she walked towards them.