dawned in her sceptical eyes. ‘Your toes might regret it if I do.’
He laughed, walked round the table without letting her go. ‘Let’s find out.’
Drawing her to her feet, he led her onto the dance floor. He placed her left hand on his shoulder, his right hand on her waist, then clasped her free hand in his, over his heart. Each movement was slow, deliberate. Non-threatening to her peace of mind.
‘Look at me, Alina.’
Alina did.
‘Trust me.’
She did.
‘Let me guide you.’
He held her firmly, murmured in her ear and directed her steps with his thighs. His breath tickled her earlobe, his cologne filled her nostrils. Heat radiated from his touch as he compensated for her initial stumbling. She let her muscles go loose, giving him full control of her movements.
They glided round the room as if floating on air. Her eyelids fluttered. The music combined with the man to create an ethereal realm she wished she could stay in for ever. No more sorrow. No more loneliness. She gave a soft sigh, glanced up—into a searing wave of cobalt desire.
Their feet stopped moving; their bodies swayed in time with the rhythm of the music. She couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe, yet she felt his deep intake of air. Felt...
Guilt—as strong and shattering as when she’d been the only survivor.
The magic dissolved into stark reality. She began to shudder—couldn’t stop. She tried to pull away, found herself being ushered to their table and gently settled into her seat. The strong arm stayed around her, supportive, grounding.
A moment later there were muffled words in a concerned tone, a deep reply. Deep as Ethan’s voice but clipped, disconnected, not like him at all. She did know that it was his fingers lifting her chin, and hazily wondered why they trembled.
‘Alina?’
She blinked, saw his pale face, his brow creased in concern. She bent her head, unable to find words to explain.
His hand dropped. ‘Let’s go home. We’ll talk there.’
‘No.’ Plaintive, even to her own ears.
‘We have to.’ Soft-spoken. Decisive.
They drove home in silence. Alina counted cars as they passed, timed their stops at traffic lights—anything to keep from dwelling on the talk ahead. Could she feign a headache? Believable in the circumstances, but delaying the inevitable.
If Ethan James wanted to talk, they’d talk—sooner rather than later.
ETHAN KEPT HER hand in his after locking the car, only letting go to allow her to enter the apartment first. How come she’d not only become used to that small intimacy but welcomed it? She dropped her bag onto the island, walked round to make hot drinks.
‘Would you like coffee?’ She reached for a bronze pod.
‘Make it a black pod. I need a strong kick.’ He was already walking towards the hall, discarding his jacket as he went.
Good idea. She picked up her bag and headed for her room to change. Jeans and a casual top were more conducive to a serious discussion.
In the few minutes it took her he’d returned, and their drinks were ready in the lounge.
‘Biscuits?’
She shook her head. ‘No, thank you.’
His lips twitched at the corners, just a tad. ‘Chocolate?’
So he’d noticed the wrappers in the bin and her stash in the cupboard. Again she declined. Why the heck was she being so formal? Last night the atmosphere had been light and friendly. Today even better. Until that moment when the past had reasserted its claim on her.
She sat in the corner of the settee, drawing her legs up tight when he chose one of the armchairs, putting extra space between them. She stared at the mug in her hands, dreading the words she might hear, fearing he might be annoyed if she couldn’t or wouldn’t answer.
‘We have to talk, Alina.’
The sombre tone of his voice brought her head up. His eyes had the sharp intensity she remembered from when she’d taken over filling in the marriage application. As if reading her inner thoughts was the only thing that mattered at this moment.
‘This isn’t going to work the way we are now. I’ve never had a problem with women before, but now I’m second-guessing what to do. For our baby’s sake we have to convince everyone we’ve had a passionate affair.’
‘And I’m failing miserably. I’m sorry, Ethan. I don’t know how... There was only ever...I...’ The words wouldn’t come. She bit the inside of her lip, looked down at her white knuckles gripping the hot mug.
His hollow laugh snapped her gaze back to his face.
‘I’m not doing much better, Alina. I never knew grief could be so overwhelming, so soul-draining. You brought some light into my dark world. Now you’re here—so sweet and beautiful, so vulnerable.’
He leant forward, hands clasped between spread knees.
‘I can’t deny the physical attraction. Can’t fathom whether it’s linked with knowing you’re carrying Louise’s baby. Tonight—the music, dancing with you in my arms—I was in a new world. I frightened you, and I’m sorry—’
‘No. It wasn’t you,’ she cut in. ‘There’ve been so many first-for-a-long-times for me, it’s bewildering. I feel like I’ve been thrown back into mainstream city living without a guidebook.’
She suddenly realised she was mimicking his stance, sharing his desire for their plan to succeed. Something shifted inside her, as if the extra tightening around her heart that had come when she’d heard about Louise and Leon had slipped a few notches. The old pain remained. She’d accepted only death would bring that to an end.
‘It’s only been four days. I didn’t expect to stay in Australia—much less with you.’ She smiled, watched as his eyes softened and his brow cleared. His answering smile lifted her heart. ‘I’m rusty in all the social niceties of sharing a home and...and things.’
He shifted as if to stand, sank back. ‘I don’t have a good track record there. I’ve only had two live-in relationships, neither here, and neither lasting more than five months. Both confirmed my belief that I’m not cut out for domesticity. I’m too pragmatic—and, as one of them pointed out, I’ve no romance in my soul. Assuming I have a soul.’
‘That’s better for us, isn’t it?’ Although did she really want him to stop his gentle touches, his scorching looks? His kisses?
‘No.’ Sharp. Instant.
He came to sit at the other end of the couch, folding one leg
