There was silence.
‘Xanthos? Are you still there?’
‘Dating?’
‘Yes. You know. Two hopefully single people meet in the hope of finding a mutual attraction.’
‘And did you?’
‘Not so far, no,’ she said cheerfully. ‘But I’m on several sites, so, by the law of averages, something should come up soon.’
‘You’re on a dating site?’
Wasn’t it pathetic how that darkly dangerous note in his voice made her skin shimmer with pleasure? ‘I am.’
‘Are you out of your mind?’ he exploded. ‘You could end up spending the evening with a psychopath!’
Resisting the desire to make the very obvious retort, Bianca watched as a sparrow hopped onto the windowsill to peck at a crumb of bread from her lunchtime sandwich. ‘Why not? Everybody does it.’
‘I don’t,’ he growled.
No, of course he didn’t. He just had to walk into a room and women started throwing themselves at him. Rememberthat. ‘Was there a reason for this phone call, Xanthos?’ she questioned.
There was another pause before he said the words she realised she was longing for him to say. ‘I’m coming over to England next week and wondered if you’d care to have dinner with me.’
And although the logical side of her mind wanted to remind him that they’d both agreed this would be a bad idea and her aching heart was pleading for her not to canvass any more potential pain, she ignored them, using two careless words to seal her fate.
‘Sure. When?’
He sent a car to pick her up from her Wimbledon apartment and was sitting waiting for her in a discreetly expensive restaurant situated on one of Mayfair’s sumptuous streets. And although it registered in the back of Bianca’s mind that the luxurious eatery was only a short hop to the Granchester, she made no comment as she slid into the seat opposite him. And if she’d been hoping—which she had—to have acquired some immunity to his powerful brand of sex appeal, then her hopes had gone unanswered.
He looked nothing short of spectacular in a dark suit and a pale shirt. His thick black hair was ruffled, his firm jaw shadowed, and the only negative she could find was that his eyes appeared tired. But it was none of her business what might have produced a fatigue which had the effect of making him appear a little battle-drawn and very, very sexy.
‘Bianca,’ he said, rising to his feet as she approached.
‘Hello, Xanthos,’ she said, but her heart was beating very fast and she knew she needed to protect herself if she didn’t want to end up in bed with him.
But if she didn’t want that, then why else was she here?
She was barely aware of the food they ordered and deliberately stuck to water in order to maintain a clear head and noticed he did the same. They chatted about his work, her work. The record New York snows and the latest political scandal in England. He made her laugh, and she reciprocated, and on every level it was the most enjoyable date she’d had for many weeks, by a mile. But it wasn’t enough. Not with him. Because suddenly Bianca knew she didn’t want this. She didn’t want to skate over the surface and spend the evening making superficial conversation. She didn’t want to second-guess his motives, or to push them away and ignore them. The question was whether she intended to be passive or proactive about her fate.
She put down her knife and fork.Askhim. Stop playing games and just ask him. ‘So why the sudden invitation to dinner, after radio silence for so long?’
Xanthos wondered what had taken her so long, because he’d been expecting this question a lot sooner. But he still took a heartbeat of a pause before he answered, because this was an admission which didn’t come easily. ‘I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,’ he said simply, waiting for the inevitable response to his surprisingly honest statement and when she failed to deliver it, he raised his eyebrows. ‘Have you been thinking about me, Bianca?’
She took several moments to fold her linen napkin into a neat square before looking up at him, her green eyes narrowed. ‘Are we being honest?’
He felt a nerve tug at his temple. ‘Of course.’
‘Then, yes.’ She shrugged. ‘I would have to say that I have.’
‘Internet dates proving a disappointment?’ he mocked.
‘Don’t push it, Xanthos.’ She folded her lips together. ‘I’m perfectly aware that there’s a perfectly logical reason for our mutual obsession.’
‘Oh?’
‘It’s because we’ve undergone a traumatic and dramatic experience together, which means it’s probably had a more profound effect than if we’d met in a cocktail bar.’