was a brief silence before Jonas answered, his voice sounding less aggressive. ‘Have Ben and Jerry finished the painting now?’
‘Ben and Jerry? That’s what they’re called?’
‘Yes,’ Jonas answered dryly.
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really,’ Jonas chuckled softly.
Mac felt slightly heartened by that chuckle. ‘They’ve almost finished, yes. I was just making them both a mug of coffee.’
‘That’s very…kind of you.’
Mac bristled. ‘You sound surprised?’
His sigh was audible. ‘Let’s try to not have another argument, hmm, Mac.’
‘No, of course not.’ She grimaced. ‘Sorry.’
‘Was that the only reason you called?’ Jonas asked huskily.
Was it? Mac had convinced herself that it was before she made the call, but now that she had heard his voice again she wasn’t so sure.
They had parted with such finality earlier. Leaving no room for manoeuvre. Something that had left Mac with a feeling of uneasy dissatisfaction.
‘I think so,’ she answered.
‘But you’re not sure?’ he pressed.
‘I am sure,’ she said firmly. ‘I just—Anyway, thank you for your help earlier, Jonas. It is appreciated.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he said warmly. ‘Have you had second thoughts about dinner?’
Second and third ones, Mac acknowledged ruefully. But all of them with the same conclusion—that a relationship between herself and Jonas was going nowhere. Except possibly to a broken heart on her part.
She wasn’t sure when—or even how—the feelings she had for Jonas had sneaked up on her. She only knew that they had.
Quite what those feelings were, she had so far shied away from analysing; she only knew, after seeing him again this morning, that her three days away had achieved nothing and that she definitely felt something for him.
She felt energised in his company. A tingling awareness. An excited thrumming. Whether or not that was just a sexual excitement, Mac wasn’t experienced enough in relationships to know. She only knew that the thought of never seeing him again, speaking to him again, was a painful one.
It made no difference to those feelings whatsoever that she knew there was no future for the two of them. Jonas undisputedly affected her in a way no other man ever had.
‘I’ll take it from your delay in answering that you have,’ he drawled softly.
‘I didn’t say that—’
‘In which case, Indian or Chinese?’ he said authoritatively, rolling right over her vacillation, having no intention of letting her wriggle out of the invitation a second time. Or was it a third time? Whatever. For some reason, Mac had called him, once again opening the line of communication between them, and at the same time renewing Jonas’s own determination to see her again. ‘I’m waiting, Mac,’ he added.
Her raggedly indrawn breath was audible. ‘Indian. But—’
‘No buts,’ Jonas cut in forcefully. ‘I’ll be there about eight o’clock, okay?’
‘I—Yes. Okay.’
Jonas only realised he had been tensed for another refusal as he felt his shoulders relax. ‘We’re only going to eat dinner together, Mac,’ he mocked gruffly—not sure whether he was offering her that reassurance or himself!
Himself, probably, he accepted derisively. Mac had got under his skin in a way he wasn’t comfortable with. So much so that he knew he shouldn’t see her again. So much so that he knew he had to see her again.
She was a magnet he was inexorably drawn to. And resistance on Jonas’s part was proving as futile as preventing the proverbial moth from being drawn to a flame…
‘Very festive,’ Jonas told Mac dryly later that evening once she had opened the door to his knock and he had stepped into the living area of the warehouse, the main lights switched off to allow for the full effect of the brightly lit Christmas tree. The smell of pine was thick in the air, and the branches were heavily adorned with decorations and glittering shiny baubles that reflected those coloured lights.
The dining table in the corner of the huge open-plan area was already set for two, with several candles placed in its centre waiting to be lit, and a bottle of red wine waiting to be opened.
Jonas turned away from the intimacy of that setting to look at Mac instead. Her hair was loose again this evening, and she had changed out of the black jumper, jeans and red body-warmer, into an overlarge thigh-length long-sleeved red shirt over black leggings, with calf-high black boots.
Jonas had spent the remainder of the afternoon telling himself what a bad idea it was for him to come here again this evening. One look at Mac and he didn’t give a damn how bad an idea it was, he was just enjoying being in her company again.
‘Here.’ He handed her the bag of Indian food before thrusting his hands into his jeans pockets in an effort not to reach out, as he so wanted to do, and pull her close to him. Jonas knew that once he had done that he wouldn’t want to let her go again. That he would forget everything else but having her in his arms…
Mac turned away from the stark intensity of Jonas’s gaze to carry the bag of food over to the breakfast bar and take out the hot cartons before removing the lids with determined concentration, feeling strangely shy in his company now that she was aware of—if choosing not to look too closely at—the feelings she had for him.
‘Ben and Jerry did a good job painting over the graffiti,’ she told him conversationally as she carried the warmed plates and cartons of food over to the table on a tray.
Jonas shrugged. ‘It’s too dark for me to tell.’
Mac nodded. ‘They were very efficient.’ Her gaze didn’t quite meet his as she straightened and turned, at the same time completely aware of how vibrantly attractive he looked in a blue cashmere sweater, the same colour as his eyes, and faded jeans of a lighter blue.
‘Mac…?’
She raised her eyes to look at him before as quickly looking away again as she felt that familiar thrill of awareness down the length of her spine. ‘We should sit down and eat before the food gets cold.’
Jonas frowned at the awkwardness he could feel growing between them. ‘Mac, are you even going to look at me?’
She leant back against the table as she turned and raised startled lids, her eyes huge grey orbs in the paleness of her face, her expression pained. ‘What are we doing, Jonas?’ she groaned huskily.
He gave a rueful shrug. ‘Eating dinner together, I thought.’
She shook her head. ‘After agreeing only this
