‘Kate,’ said Theo tightly, fast running out of patience if
his expression was anything to go by, ‘the bed could be the size of Italy and it wouldn’t be big enough if you were in it.’
Ooh, ouch.
His words landed on her with the sting of a thousand arrows and she had to fight hard to resist the temptation to curl in on herself. ‘There’s no need to be rude,’ she said, feeling herself flush with mortification and searing disappointment that he thought of her like that.
‘What?’ he snapped, striding towards her and stopping a foot in front of her, his eyes suddenly blazing. ‘No. I mean if we occupy the same bed, wherever you are in it, I will find you. And once I do, I can’t guarantee there’ll be no inappropriate touching.’
Oh.
Oh...
As his confession sank in Kate reeled, her breath catching in her throat and her head swimming. Was he really saying what she thought he was saying? Apparently he was. Which meant that, contrary to what she’d assumed, the attraction wasn’t one-sided. He still wanted her. Intensely, judging by the hot, focused way he was looking at her.
Intriguing.
‘I see,’ she said huskily.
‘Do you?’ he said, his eyes dark and glinting. ‘I’m not sure you do. But believe me, Kate, you do not want us sharing a bed.’
What if she did?
No. She didn’t. She couldn’t. Sex again with Theo, although no doubt explosive, would serve no purpose whatsoever. Besides, this whole situation was complicated enough and if she had any sense of self-preservation at all, she’d put it right out of her mind.
‘Okay, fine,’ she said, determined to stamp out the heat and desire pummelling through her and to regain control of her senses. ‘Take the sofa.’
‘Wise decision. Dinner’s at eight.’
‘And in the meantime?’
‘You can do what you like,’ he said, his expression now shuttered and inscrutable. ‘I’m going for a swim.’
CHAPTER TEN
EARLIER, THEO HAD swum to the nearest promontory and back. It had taken him two hours at full pace and it should have exhausted him. It should have wiped out the ever-present lust and the increasingly unbearable edginess. But it hadn’t. When Kate had emerged from the bedroom half an hour ago in a simple black shift dress, her hair rippling around her shoulders like a blonde wavy waterfall, all he wanted to do was walk her back into the room, tumble her onto the bed and to hell with dinner.
Of course there’d be only one bedroom in the house. Everything about her, to do with her, was designed to torment him, so the less than ideal sleeping arrangements were par for the course.
What wasn’t par for the course, what had had him scything through the water as though a pair of great whites were snapping at his feet, was Kate’s response to his declaration that he still wanted her. He’d had no intention of telling her, hell, he barely admitted it to himself, but when she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion about why they would not be sharing a bed, she’d deflated right in front of him and he hadn’t liked it.
She’d certainly perked up when he’d recklessly corrected her misconception. Her eyes had darkened to indigo and her breath had caught, and he had no doubt if she knew what she’d revealed she’d be appalled. He, on the other hand, had experienced a jolt of surprise, inexplicable relief that he wasn’t alone in this and, unbelievably, even hotter, more desperate desire, which meant that this was going to be one very long weekend because while the attraction might be mutual there was no way he was going to do anything about it.
‘Drink?’
With Herculean effort, Theo switched his gaze from where Kate was chatting to Elaine Bridgeman over by the window of the elegant drawing room to his host, the man he was here to see and to convince. ‘Whisky,’ he said, ruthlessly blocking out the sound of Kate’s laughter and the threat to his peace of mind she presented as he accepted the drink. ‘Thank you. And thank you for the invitation this weekend.’
‘It was time,’ said Daniel gruffly. ‘I’ve been following recent events with interest. Congratulations on your engagement.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Kate’s very striking.’
‘She is,’ Theo agreed, resisting the monumental temptation to glance over at her.
‘How long have you known her?’
‘Not long. Seven weeks.’