lover. So had he wanted her while she had denied him? Was that what had eventually broken them up?
‘So I gave you the run-around for a while,’ she decided aloud, and before she could stop herself added, ‘But we obviously didn’t embark on a long and glorious affair?’
She couldn’t believe she had said it—couldn’t believe that she was responsible for the predatory smile that tugged at his lips as he returned softly, ‘Are you intimating that you wish we had, Sanchia?’
‘I didn’t say that!’ Shaming colour crept up her throat into her cheeks and she knew he would see it and recognise it for what it was. Pure, unadulterated embarrassment. Because surely he couldn’t know what she was thinking: that she couldn’t possibly have been involved with a man like him without finding herself in the midst of a wildly torrid affair. He was certainly affair material, and had he wanted more than a platonic relationship with her she couldn’t imagine how she could have resisted…
‘What were you doing at the newspaper office?’ she enquired rather breathlessly, for something to say—because what did it matter? All she wanted was to steer the conversation away from the disturbing turn it had taken.
‘Oh…’ He pursed his lips, his eyes reflective yet watchful. ‘Chasing information.’
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