‘Yes,’ she agreed, relieved and slightly amazed that she sounded so calm. Now all she had to do was string two words together in the right order and make an excuse to leave, after finding someone else to dump him on. That shouldn’t be too difficult, as she was certain she wasn’t the only female who couldn’t see past the packaging.
She allowed her eyes to sweep up scornfully from his toes to his face, but midway through their journey the scorn got lost. All right, in her defence, it wasverypretty packaging.
CHAPTER THREE
‘SO,YOU’REMARRIED?’ She had not adopted her husband’s surname, but that was not unusual these days. The thought that she was married lay in a tight knot in his belly, his own reaction surprising him. Or maybe like his own mother she was divorced and now went by her maiden name?
A speculative crease appeared in his brow as she looked at him like a cornered animal and said nothing...which suggested that perhaps things were not all smooth sailing on the marriage front.
‘Does your husband work at the school too?’ he asked, instinctively disliking with a vengeance this unknown sexist jerk who had asked her to give up her dreams for him, leave her high-flying career and bury herself here...in sensible clothes.
His nostrils flared in outraged contempt as his glance slid to the flare of her hips below the cinched-in waist. The undeniable fact was she would look desirable in a sack. He didn’t probe too deeply into the questionofwhythe idea ofher falling in love with some guy deeply enough to give up everything she’d worked so hard for made him so angry, then decided that it was the waste of talent. It was her choice, obviously, but she’d probably end up resenting the man at some point in future.
You didn’t want her but you don’t want anyone else to have her, suggested the sly voice in his head.
‘It’s been lovely to catch up,’ she said brightly.
He laughed. ‘Is that the conversational version of fake news?’
Gwen’s polite mask slipped. What did he want her to say?
The truth was a luxury she didn’t have, which narrowed her conversational options. Veiling the animosity she knew he had to be seeing in her eyes, she lowered her lashes to half mast and continued doggedly as though she hadn’t heard his sarcastic insertion.
‘But I really should get back to my class. They’ll be running riot, and—’
‘I thought you were going to explain to me about your outdoor teaching scheme.’
‘Because you’resointerested.’ And she was so in trouble, if the head overheard her talking to the guest of honour that way. She saw the flare of interest in the glitter of his dark-framed eyes...the lush eyelashes his daughter had inherited...and wished the words unsaid.
‘Absolutely,’ he came back, not missing a beat.
She tightened her lips and this time didn’t react to the provocation. ‘Fine.’
‘Outdoor learning sounds a bit New Age andout therefor a place like this.’ His eyes swept across the black and white Tudor building behind her.
His sneering attitude really riled her, despite the fact she knew full well that his interest was feigned. She could only assume he was enjoying making her feel uncomfortable. She snorted. As ifheweren’t born to a life of privilege.
‘Because you went to an inner-city school, of course.’ The words popped out before she could stop them. Flustered, she slid her eyes from his, her cheeks burning with embarrassment that she’d lost her cool.
‘Did you?’
Surprise brought her eyes back to his. Dizzied by the direct eye-to-eye connection, she brought her lashes down in a protective shield that cast shadows across the curve of her high, smooth cheekbones. She gave her head the tiniest of shakes.
‘No, I was brought up in a smallish market town in mid Wales.’
The primary school had been overcrowded after several large estates had mushroomed around the town. After that, she had taken the bus with everyone else to the red-brick comprehensive in the nearest large town.
He had asked the question, she had answered, and he felt...?
What?
They had been as intimate as two people could be, he had explored every inch of her body and she had shown an endless fascination for his, and yet, other than conversations that involved work, he knew virtually nothing about her. But then this shouldn’t be so surprising; intimacy outside the bedroom was not something Rio did.
It was a choice, and he didn’t feel as though he was missing out on anything. If there were occasions in the cooling aftermath of satisfying sex that made him conscious of a nebulous feeling of something that could be called emptiness, he considered it a price worth paying to avoid drifting into a relationship where he’d be expected to profess feelings he didn’t believe existed, or, even worse, might convince himselfdid. His own father had never stopped believing he loved someone, even when it had nearly destroyed the person he’d claimed to love.
She saw a flicker of awareness move across the dark surface of his eyes before he lowered his gaze, frustrating her curiosity.
And why was she acting as if that were abadthing? Gwen told herself she didn’t want to know what made this man tick. She wanted him and his disruptive aura the hell out of her life.