Dan looked at her, his eyebrows shooting up. ‘Would I?’
‘I think he actually has quite a strong sense of responsibility,’ she said, a bit taken aback by the strength of her desire to set the record straight. ‘I mean, look at the way he made sure all his staff were taken care of when he sold his business,’ she said, remembering something she’d read in the press weeks ago. ‘Look at the plans he has now. Business mentoring? And that apprenticeship scheme thing for kids who’ve slipped through the system? He said it was his way of giving something back, and if that isn’t a sign of recognising one’s responsibilities I don’t know what is.’
And then look at the way he’d taken care of her when she hadn’t been well. The way he was stepping up to the plate now. All in all, she thought he was a remarkably responsible individual, even if Dan and Zoe couldn’t see it.
Realising her heart was beating rather too fast and that she was feeling a bit fired up, she took a couple of deep calming breaths and gradually became aware that Dan and Zoe were staring at her.
‘What?’ she said, swinging her gaze between them as her pulse slowed and her indignation faded.
‘Interesting,’ said Zoe, regarding her thoughtfully.
‘It is interesting,’ she said firmly. ‘Very. And I’m sure he’ll make a success of it all.’
‘I don’t mean his plans,’ said Zoe. ‘Although those do sound good. I was referring to your defence of him.’
‘I’m not defending him,’ said Celia. ‘I’m simply being honest.’
Zoe picked up a menu and smiled knowingly. ‘If that’s what you want to call it,’ she said in an annoyingly conciliatory fashion. ‘Now, who’s having pudding?’
* * *
Two hours later, lying in the bath, enveloped in orange-blossom-scented bubbles and surrounded by a dozen flickering bergamot-scented candles, Celia dropped her head back and closed her eyes and pondered that disconcertingly knowing smile of her sister-in-law’s.
What Zoe thought she knew Celia had no idea. She was being honest when she’d said all that stuff about Marcus being more responsible than everyone gave him credit for. And yes, maybe a teensy bit defensive, but so what? It didn’t mean anything. She was just setting the record straight, and anyway, she was sure that if he ever learned that she’d leapt to his defence like that he’d split his sides laughing at her.
Zoe was too smug by half, thinking that she had the measure of their relationship. She didn’t have a clue, apart, possibly, from identifying the chemistry, which now didn’t matter all that much when there were so many other far more important life-changing decisions to be made.
Marcus might have alluded to the fact that they were still attracted to each other when they’d been sitting on the bench in that park, and, heaven only knew, he was in her thoughts a lot, sometimes all laid-back and smiling that lethal, lazy smile, sometimes all dark and intense, either way refusing to budge and making her pulse throb and her body tingle, but that didn’t mean they were going to act on it, did it?
She, for one, had absolutely no intention of doing so. She had her child to think of and a relationship to build with its father, and sex complicating that and messing with her head was the last thing she needed.
How hard could it be to keep the attraction in hand anyway? It wasn’t as if she were completely at the mercy of her hormones or anything. She was far too mature and sensible for that. It was simply a question of willpower, and that she had in abundance. So she’d easily be able to handle her attraction to him. She probably wouldn’t even see that much of him over the next few months, apart from the occasions she intended they got together to work on that relationship. They were both busy, after all, and he had ‘interests’...
Actually, she thought, not particularly wanting to contemplate Marcus and his ‘interests’, bearing that in mind, maybe she’d better get in touch with him to suggest fixing up the first ‘getting to know you’ session, because who knew how long it might be before they found a date they were both free?
* * *
Figuring out how he was going to adapt his lifestyle to incorporate looking after a child wasn’t giving Marcus nearly as much trouble as figuring out what he was going to do about Celia.
The former wasn’t a problem at all. Ever since the afternoon of Dan and Zoe’s wedding, despite the concerted effort he’d made to move on, the thought of sex with anyone other than her was so off-putting he hadn’t even bothered trying.
At first he’d found his lack of interest in anyone else infuriating, not to mention frustrating. Then he’d made himself relax because what could he do about it? He could hardly force himself to take things further, could he? Anyway, it was bound to be nothing more than a hiccup.
But if it was, then he was still hiccuping. And weirdly, not minding all that much. To his surprise he wasn’t missing the thrill of the chase, the dating or even the sex. He’d been getting more than enough kicks from the work he’d been throwing himself into. The apprentice scheme he was setting up was an idea he’d been toying with for a year or two now, and it was great to be able to finally get it started. And while unprofitable—at least in financial terms—it meant so much that it felt good to be getting stuck in. Very good.
With a puritanism the Vict
orians would have been proud of he was working hard and sleeping alone, and he’d never felt more virtuous.
His thoughts about Celia, however, weren’t virtuous at all. They were wicked and filthy and sometimes came to him at the most inappropriate of times. Such as during the scan she’d had a couple of days ago. She’d hopped onto the bed, and, with a wriggle that was sexier than it ought to be, had lifted her top. It had been the least erotic of occasions, yet at the expanse of taut, tanned stomach she’d revealed he’d found himself tuning out the voice of the obstetrician and wondering whether anyone would mind if he leaned over and ran his hands and mouth across her skin.
She was in his head all the time. And not just with the smiles she occasionally shot him. He found her fascinating. The contradictions that characterised her were intriguing. She was an intoxicating combination of strength and vulnerability, pride and self-deprecation, confidence and bewilderment.
Not that anyone got to see the softer side of her. He was willing to bet everything he had that he was the only person who knew about her craving for her father’s approval, the only person ever to see her in the state she’d been in the night they’d dashed to A and E. The only person to hold her as she cried her heart out.
But even though he was now sufficiently not in denial to know that he still wanted her—and quite desperately—that didn’t mean he was going to do anything about it. He couldn’t, could he? His relationships, however long they lasted, always ended, and he’d never seen the point in keeping in touch.
If he and Celia had sex again, whether once, twice or a hundred times, when that side to their relationship burned out—as it inevitably would when he felt he needed to move on—it would make things unbearably awkward between them. Decisions they’d have to make would be clouded by things that were totally unrelated.