‘I slept with you once.’
‘It hadn’t slipped my memory.’
His sardonic interruption brought a militant gleam to her eyes. ‘And you know perfectly well why it’s a bad idea, we’ve been through all that.’
‘Remind me.’ His eyes were as hard and unforgiving as slate as they drilled into her.#p#????#e#
‘I can see you’re in a mood…’
His head went back, exposing the strong brown line of his throat, and he gave a derisive snort. ‘And you wonder why?’
‘I think you’re just being awkward for the sake of it!’ she accused.
‘I can do awkward, but this isn’t it.’ His dark eyes flashed angrily. ‘Where is Sam?’
‘Upstairs in number ten playing with Tessa, Isobel’s little girl.’
‘The woman upstairs?’
Scarlet nodded. ‘Her little girl is about Sam’s age—they get on really well.’
‘That’s convenient.’
‘Are you suggesting that it’s handy for me to have someone to dump Sam on?’
‘No.’ Without Roman raising his voice the softly spoken denial stilled the angry words spilling from her. ‘That’s not what I’m suggesting.’
Scarlet’s shoulders relaxed but the frown that furrowed her smooth brow remained. ‘But you are suggesting something?’ she speculated shrewdly.
He shrugged and smiled back at her in that infuriatingly enigmatic way he had.
‘I think this weekend might be a good time for a trip to Ireland.’
Very slowly Scarlet finished wiping the mug in her hand and replaced it on the counter. ‘Have a nice time,’ she said in a voice that was carefully devoid of all expression. My God, I’m going to miss him! The recognition of how much was a shock. ‘I might invite Isobel over for tea,’ she added brightly. ‘Sam gets on well with her little girl.’
‘So you said.’
‘Sorry if I’m boring you,’ she returned childishly.
‘Scarlet, I’m not going to Ireland alone.’
Stupid me, of course he isn’t. With horror she recognised the sickening feeling that stabbed through her as jealousy, which was stupid; she had wanted it this way. Was that why he was spelling it out? Had he picked up before she had on the possessive feelings she was developing…?
‘Anyone I know?’ she asked casually.
‘You and Sam. My father would like to meet you both.’
Scarlet’s blinked. ‘Me and Sam?’ she echoed. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Neither do I,’ he remarked cryptically before taking her chin in his hand and tilting her face up towards him. The dark spiky lashes lifted off her cheek and big almond-shaped eyes that he knew could vary in shade quite dramatically stared back up at him.
‘I’d like you and Sam to come home with me to Ireland,’ he repeated patiently. His brows lifted and he gave a lopsided grin and exasperation slipped into his voice as he asked, ‘Who the hell did you think I was going to take home to meet my parents?’
An image of several beauties his name had been linked with flashed through her mind as she shook her head. ‘I really don’t care.’ She moved her head and his light touch fell away.
‘Then what do you care about?’
The soft question had a curious driven quality to it that brought her eyes back to his face.
I could look at that face for ever and never get tired of looking. ‘The fact that no matter what you promise the moment my back is turned you’re there again organising my life, Sam’s life, and taking over!’ she accused hoarsely.
‘You’re being ridiculous,’ Roman contended, looking genuinely bewildered by her accusation.
‘Fine, so you don’t expect us to come with you just like that!’ She clicked her fingers but the dampness on her skin prevented the action producing a satisfying crack.#p#????#e#
Roman clicked his tongue and shook his dark head form side to side. ‘Not like that, like this,’ he said, taking her empty hand and arranging her thumb and forefinger in the required position. ‘It’s all in the tension.’
Of that there was plenty!
His touch was light, clinical almost, but the softest touch from him sent every nerve ending in her body awake and screaming for more. A terrible surge of longing welled up in her; it was so intense that she could feel it in her bones. Their eyes connected and a voluptuous shiver ran all the way to her toes.
Angrily she snatched her hand away and rubbed it up and down against her thigh. Her eyes were wary and fiery as she avoided direct eye contact.
‘It didn’t occur to you it would have been a nice gesture to ask not inform?’