‘Oh, I like that very much,’ she responded with a smile. ‘But I thought we’d try something different tonight.’
He said nothing, but his eyes showed a hint of something—warning, or a wariness, that she instinctively understood.
‘This isn’t a date—relax. I’m not trying to entice you into anything more than the deal we’ve made.’ She sobered, scanning his eyes thoughtfully. ‘What’s wrong? Is sharing dinner against the mistress rules or something?’
A muscle jerked in his jaw. ‘There’s a first time for everything.’ His smile was barely a lift of his lips. He stepped away from her, reaching for a chair and separating it from the table, holding it so she could be seated. But as she eased herself into it with a grace that was borne of natural instinct rather than professional training, his fingers lingered on her shoulders and he dropped his head so he could whisper in her ear, ‘Let’s see how long we last.’
A frisson of anticipation straightened her spine and her breasts tingled, her nipples tightening in ready response to his huskily voiced promise. But it was a challenge, a throwing down of the gauntlet, and she wanted to prove him wrong, to prove to both of them that they were capable of having a conversation that wasn’t punctuated by sensual need.
He took the seat opposite, but didn’t shift forward, so he was far enough across the table to regard her with a kind of scrutiny that filled her body with little electric shocks.
‘I gather you don’t generally date the women you sleep with?’
His nostrils flared as he exhaled. ‘You have an unusual interest in my previous lovers.’
The accusation smarted. She shook her head in an instant denial. ‘Not at all. I’m just trying to understand how this usually works.’
‘Why?’
Her smile was rueful and lacking humour. ‘So I know what to expect after you?’
It was both the wrong—and the right—thing to say. His features cracked with something dark and intense, something like absolute, visceral rejection. It was the first time in Jemima’s life that she realised she could get some kind of dark pleasure from an emotion like envy. It was over in a heartbeat, his expression cleared of anything, but it had been there, she was certain of it. He didn’t like the idea of her being with someone else. It was why he’d made such a big deal about the other lover who—out of pride—she’d invented.
‘I’m not a good barometer of normal when it comes to relationships.’
‘Why not?’ In spite of her best intentions, curiosity flared to life.
‘Because I don’t have relationships,’ he drawled, the words mocking, but she refused to be cowed.
‘Why not?’
He reached forward and topped up her champagne flute without touching his own glass.
‘I don’t have time.’
She frowned. ‘You have as much time as anyone else.’
‘My work is my life.’ He lifted his shoulders, dismissing her line of enquiry.
‘Why?’
His eyes flared briefly with surprise, but he tamped the reaction down quickly enough. ‘I employ over eighty thousand people around the world. You don’t think I have a reason to be busy?’
‘Mmm...’ She tilted her head to one side, considering this. ‘But you must have people who report to you, a chain of command.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Certo. But I oversee it. Every aspect.’
For no reason she could think of, a shiver ran down her spine. There was such a mark of determination in his voice that it almost felt like a warning.
‘Every aspect?’
‘This surprises you?’
Her smile was instinctive. ‘Actually, it doesn’t.’ She dipped her head forward a little.
‘No?’
‘That you’re a control freak? Oh, I think that’s patently obvious.’ She lifted her gaze then, fixing him with a curious stare. ‘Look at the way you manoeuvred me into your bed.’ It was a joke, said with a smile, but his expression sobered for a moment.