With hindsight it was a miracle he’d managed to get down that aisle without dragging her off into the vestry. He’d felt her touch right through the thick barathea of his sleeve and it had singed his skin and tightened every muscle in his body. The scent of her had scrambled his brain and the proximity of her had heated his blood. As for the pressure of her breast against his elbow, well, the lust that that had aroused in him had nearly brought him to his knees.
If he hadn’t been so deeply in denial he’d have had bad, bad thoughts about her. In a church, for heaven’s sake.
He’d told himself that it was exhaustion messing with his head, which, come to think of it, was the excuse he always made when it came to the irrational and inappropriate thoughts of her that occasionally flitted through his mind.
But it wasn’t exhaustion. It was denial, pure and simple. Because how could he be so in thrall to someone who clearly didn’t feel the same way about him? How could he be so weak?
So was that what bothered him so much about her, then? The one-sided attraction and the back-seat position it put him in? Was the fact that he’d never stopped wanting her the reason why the way she constantly judged him and always found him lacking pissed him off so much?
Despite what she thought of him he fancied the pants off her, which meant that, despite his protests to the contrary earlier, Zoe had been right. On his side at least, there was chemistry, tension and, up until about a minute ago, a whole heap of denial.
And as denial was now apparently not an option he might as well admit that her rejection of him still stung despite the fact that it had happened years ago. She was the one who had got away, and that was why she got to him, why he always retaliated when she launched an attack on him.
‘So what do you think?’ said Jim, interrupting the jumble o
f thoughts tangling in his head. ‘Would you be up for the challenge?’
‘He thinks you’re insane, Dad,’ said Celia fiercely. ‘And so do I. I know I’m a disappointment to you but, for goodness’ sake, this has to stop. Now.’
Actually, with the realisation that he wanted her, what Marcus thought was that he was suddenly bone-deep tired of the animosity that she treated him with. It had been going on for years, and he was sick of not knowing what it was about or where it came from.
After spending so long in denial it was surprising just how clearly he could see now. His vision was crystal, and he wanted answers. So whether she liked it or not he was going to get them before the afternoon was through.
‘Want to go and get a drink?’ he muttered, figuring that there was no time like the present and that with any luck she’d consider him the lesser of the two evils in her vicinity right now.
‘I thought you’d never ask.’
THREE
Oh, God, thought Celia, lifting her hands to her cheeks and feeling them burn as she abandoned her horror of a father and trailed in Marcus’ wake. How on earth was she going to recover from this? Would she ever get over the mortification and the humiliation? Not to mention the mileage that Marcus would get out of that disaster of a conversation. Her father might not know it but he’d given him ammunition to last him years.
How could he have suggested she needed sorting out? She’d always known he didn’t have much time for her career and that he thought she ought to be stuck in a kitchen, barefoot and pregnant, but he’d never expressed it so publicly before.
And in front of Marcus of all people.
What must he be thinking?
Well, no doubt she’d be finding out soon enough because given their history what were the chances he’d let such a scoop slide? Practically zero, she thought darkly as a fresh wave of mortification swept through her. He probably couldn’t wait to get started.
But that was fine. She’d survive whatever taunts he threw her way. She always did. And this time she didn’t really have any choice, as she’d known the minute she’d elected to go with him instead of staying with her father. She’d made the split-second decision on the basis that by actually living in the twenty-first century Marcus was the marginally more acceptable of the two, but with hindsight maybe she should have just fled to the bathroom instead and to hell with the weakness that that would have displayed.
As they reached the bar Celia pulled herself together because she had the feeling that she’d need every drop of self-possession that she had for the impending fallout of what had just happened.
‘What would you like?’ he asked.
‘Something strong,’ she said, not caring one little bit that it was only five in the afternoon. She needed the fortification. ‘Brandy, please.’
‘Ice?’
Diluted? Hah. ‘No, thanks.’
Marcus gave the order to the barman and the minute she had the glass in her fingers she tossed the lot of it down her throat. And winced and shook her head as the alcohol burned through her system. ‘God.’
He watched her, his eyes dark and inscrutable, and Celia set her glass on the bar and kind of wished he’d just get on with it because her stomach was churning and she was feeling a bit giddy.
Although now she thought about it his eyes lacked the glint of sardonic amusement he usually treated her to and his face was devoid of the couldn’t-care-less expression it normally wore when they met. In fact she got the odd impression that he wasn’t thinking about her father or that conversation at all, which made her think that perhaps he wasn’t planning to launch a mocking attack on the pathetic state of her love life just yet.
So what was he going to do? And more to the point, what was she going to do, because she could hardly stand here looking at him for ever, could she? Even though deep down she wouldn’t mind doing just that because he was, after all, extremely easy on the eye.