‘I’m sorry?’ She raised her chin a fraction.
‘You’re frosty enough to take the wine down a good few degrees all by yourself,’ he said pleasantly.
She stared at him, shocked by the suddenness and speed of the confrontation which—for one stunned moment—had robbed her of all coherent thought. And then she raised her small chin further in an angry movement which wasn’t lost on the tall figure in front of her, and said, her voice crisp and steady, ‘That’s very rude, Mr Lincoln, considering we haven’t met in years and I barely know you.’
“‘Mr Lincoln” is going to go down like a lead balloon during the social repartee an occasion like this merits, and although we might not have met in years I’d say we know each other fairly well, all things considered,’ he returned smoothly.
‘Really?’ Robyn could feel her face burning.
‘Yes, really.’ He smiled, his voice silky. ‘I think you were about twelve years’ old when Guy first introduced me to your family, so I’d say the next three or four years count as a pretty good “knowing” period, wouldn’t you?’
She was saved the effort of searching for an adequately scathing reply by one of the other couples who joined them at that precise moment, but as she made small talk and joined in the laughter and social niceties she was furious to find she couldn’t ignore Clay as she wanted to.
The last years had evaporated as though they’d never been and she was like a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl again, conscious of his every movement, the low husky quality of his voice, the sheer physical appeal of him. The suit he was wearing couldn’t even begin to disguise the unequivocally tough and hard male body inside it, and his closeness was playing havoc with her senses. Which was as ridiculous as it was humiliating.
There were at least eight other people in the room besides Clay and herself, but it was his warm male scent surrounding her, his voice that made her pulse race, his body that she was painfully and rawly aware of. She could feel the attraction so strongly she wouldn’t have been surprised if the air had begun to crackle, but Clay seemed quietly relaxed and at ease as he chatted at her side to the other couple.
Mind you, there was no reason for him to be otherwise, she reminded herself tartly as she smiled and nodded at the woman opposite her who was regaling them with the latest achievement of the wonder child she had given birth to a few months previously.
She couldn’t bring herself to believe he had forgotten the events of that awful evening twelve years ago—much as she would like to—but the whole thing obviously had meant absolutely nothing to him. If she had stayed in his memory at all, which she seriously doubted, it would have been as a ridiculous little girl who had overstepped the mark and in doing so had embarrassed them both. If he had been embarrassed, that was. Which she seriously doubted. Icebergs didn’t embarrass as far as she knew.
‘…at the moment, Robyn?’
‘I’m sorry?’ She came to with a jolt to realise May Jarvis, the wife of one of Guy’s oldest friends, had asked her a question amid all the ramblings and she hadn’t heard a word of it.
May’s smile dimmed a little. ‘I asked you if there was anyone special on the horizon at the moment?’ she repeated.
Why was it that happily married matrons of her sister’s age always seemed to assume they could ask any pertinent question they liked at dos like this one? Robyn asked herself tersely, before her innate sense of fair play made her feel guilty. May was only trying to include her in the conversation and make small talk, she reminded herself quickly, and normally she would have passed off such a question with a light, amusing comment. But tonight wasn’t normal, and she was all out of light, amusing comments! She just wanted to go home.
‘No.’ She could feel the muscles at the back of her neck were as tight as piano wire and she had only been here ten minutes or so. How was she going to get through a whole evening?
‘Oh.’ May had clearly expected more and now she glanced across at her husband rather helplessly, who stared back at her with a face that seemed to say, What do you expect me to say?
It was Clay who spoke into the moment, his voice soothing and cool as he said quietly, ‘I understand from Cassie that all Robyn’s energies have been tied up in the business she’s involved in. Is that right, Robyn?’ he added smoothly.
Cass hadn’t. She hadn’t, had she? She wouldn’t have mentioned the refusal of the business loan and everything surely? ‘Yes, that’s right,’ she agreed evenly, gratified her voice was showing no sign of the turmoil within. She’d never forgive Cass!
‘Oh, really? How interesting.’ May was gushing but it was well-meant. ‘What sort of business is it?’
‘PR.’ She couldn’t just leave it at that, not after her abruptness before. ‘I formed my own business a couple of years ago so it’s pretty time-absorbing. If you want to get a foot on the ladder you have to put in all the hours it needs,’ Robyn said quietly to May without looking Clay’s way. ‘There’s plenty of competition who will be only too pleased to do it if you don’t.’
‘I can imagine.’ May was genuinely sympathetic. ‘I was involved in advertising before I had the baby and that’s the same. Of course I didn’t have my own company,’ she added quickly, ‘so I suppose the incentive wasn’t quite the same. How many people do you employ?’
‘Just one at the moment.’ She would have given the world to massage the taut muscles at the nape of her neck but she didn’t dare with those icy silver eyes watching her. ‘But I’m hoping to expand in time of course.’
‘So you’re a career girl.’ Clay had moved fractionally closer, his spicy aftershave subtly touching her oversensitised nerves, and Robyn willed herself to show no reaction at all. ‘Funny, but I’d got you down as a hearth-and-home type back in the good old days,’ he drawled with silky innocence.
‘Oh, so you two go back a long way?’ May was all ears.
‘We don’t go back at all,’ Robyn said politely but firmly, wondering how suave and debonair Clay would look with white wine dripping off the end of his nose. ‘Clay was at university with Guy, that’s all, and he used to come and see Cass and Guy in the holidays sometimes when I was just a kid.’ It was dismissive.
She knew the dark, handsome face was surveying her with mockingly raised eyebrows and for that reason she didn’t let her eyes connect with his. She wasn’t the young, starry-eyed sixteen-year-old any more and she was darned if she would let him call the tune tonight. He had purposefully got May interested, she knew it, with his pointed reference to the good old days. The good old days! She gave a healthy snort in her mind. Good for whom? Not for her, that was sure.
Once Cassie had got them all seated at the table and the first course—baby spinach, avocado and crispy pancetta salad—had been served, it wasn’t quite so bad.
Clay was sitting opposite her for one thing, and the few feet of space across the elaborate dining table which was a picture of glittering crystal and snowy-white linen and silver, was very welcome. May’s husband was on one side of her and was quite attentive, and she knew Guy’s friend, John, on her left, well, so she concentrated her conversation on them without being too obvious.
Nevertheless she noticed, with acid amusement, that Clay was charming the two women either side of him with no apparent effort
