as snow in August!
Although surely it had to snow somewhere in the world in August….
His mouth twisted into a humourless smile. ‘Perhaps we should just put it down to your own fatalistic allure.’
Cairo glared at him. ‘And perhaps we should just put it down to your need to humiliate me!’
Rafe winced. ‘Cairo—’
‘Don’t bother trying to deny it, Rafe, because you know that’s exactly what you did.’ She picked up her bag, her face flushed with anger now, and her eyes glittering darkly. ‘I think we’ll just stick with the original headline, hmm?’ With one last fiercely scathing glance she stood up and left the table, her head held high as she made her way through the restaurant to where the maître d’ held the door open for her leave.
Well, that certainly went well, Rafe, he congratulated himself dourly as he threw the rest of the champagne in his glass to the back of his throat before refilling it. The chances of Cairo now letting him anywhere near her again, let alone making love with her, were once more as likely as that snow in August!
Not good enough odds, Rafe decided as he threw some money down on the table to pay for their meal before following Cairo, his expression grim.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RAFE caught up with Cairo as she stood on the pavement outside trying to flag down an available cab, something apparently not that easy to find since the new regulation banning the use of private cars from the inner city roads had increased the demand.
‘Would it help if I apologized?’
Cairo glanced round sharply at the sound of Rafe’s voice behind her, then glared at him in the semi-darkness. ‘Not in the least,’ she informed him coldly, before turning back to look for a taxi with its light on, at the same time completely aware of the fact that Rafe had moved to stand beside her.
‘Cairo, at least let me drive you home—’
‘And give you the chance to humiliate me yet again?’ she snapped. ‘I’d rather walk!’ She began to do exactly that.
Rafe fell into step beside her. ‘Cairo, you still haven’t had hardly anything to eat—’
‘And whose fault is that?’ she accused as she came to an abrupt halt, positively bristling with anger at him. ‘I went out to dinner with you in the first place completely against my better judgement—and look how right my reservations proved to be!’ She gave an impatient shake of her head. ‘Just face it, Rafe, you and I have absolutely nothing left to say to each other.’
Rafe totally disagreed; the amount of things they had never said to each other would fill a football stadium!
He drew in a ragged breath. ‘We used to be able to communicate without words—’
‘Is that what all this is about, Rafe?’ she challenged. ‘If all you want is to go to bed with me again, then why don’t you just say so?’ Her breasts quickly rose and fell in her agitation.
Because it wasn’t all he wanted, dammit! But quite what he did want Rafe wasn’t sure of, either—yet. The only thing he did know, now that he had spent time with Cairo again, was that he wasn’t willing to let another eight years pass before he saw or spoke to her again.
‘And if it is?’ he rasped.
She stared at him for several tense seconds. ‘Fine,’ she finally said. ‘Let’s go back to my flat and have sex, then, shall we?’ She turned back in the direction Rafe had parked the car.
Rafe stood unmoving, a frown creasing his brow.
He did want Cairo. He wanted to make slow, leisurely love to her again. But not like this. Never like this.
She stopped several feet away to turn back and face him, auburn brows raised in mocking query. ‘Changed your mind, Rafe?’ she taunted.
He shook his head. ‘This isn’t like you, Cairo—’
‘I thought we had agreed that you don’t really know me!’ she scorned. ‘Last chance, Rafe,’ she added. ‘A once-in-a-lifetime offer!’ Her eyes glittered.
Not with anger, but with tears, Rafe recognized with horror.
Cairo knew she was almost at breaking point. That much more of this conversation and she was going to end up blubbering like a complete idiot. Which was ridiculous. She was a twenty-eight-year-old recently divorced woman, for goodness’ sake; most women in her position would have been only too happy to be offered a night of uncomplicated sex with Rafe Montero!
Except Cairo wasn’t ‘most women’ and, loving Rafe as she now knew she still did, it wouldn’t be just uncomplicated sex to her, either….
‘Time’s up, I’m afraid,’ she announced with faux brightness as Rafe still made no response to her offer. ‘You had your chance and you—’ She broke off suddenly as Rafe stepped forward to wrap his arms about her and hold her against him with a gentleness that was completely her undoing.
A sob caught at the back of Cairo’s throat as she allowed her head to drop forward onto Rafe’s shoulder and the tears began to fall hotly down her cheeks. Then his arms tightened about her as she began to cry in earnest.
‘I’m sorry, Cairo,’ he groaned into her hair. ‘I am so sorry!’
Rafe’s apology—for what exactly …?—just made her cry all the harder, deep, racking tears that she hadn’t allowed to fall during the last ten months. Probably because she had known that once she started she wouldn’t be able to stop!
The tears fell like a river now, completely drenching the front of Rafe’s shirt as he continued to hold her.
She cried for the loss of Rafe eight years ago.
She cried for her years of being married to Lionel.
She cried for the end of that marriage.
She cried for the loneliness that was so deep inside her it threatened to completely overwhelm her.
But finally there were no more tears left, and instead Cairo became aware of exactly where she was—and in whose arms she was crying.
Rafe Montero’s.
The man who had so cruelly broken her heart eight years ago, and had so unwittingly—uncaringly?—shaped those intervening years….
She began to extricate herself from his arms, brushing the tears from her cheeks as she straightened, her gaze avoiding his as she pushed her hair back behind her ears. ‘Well, that was a little—embarrassing, wasn’t it?’ She gave a broken laugh, frowning as she saw the lip gloss smeared across the front of Rafe’s now very damp white shirt. ‘I’m sorry about that.’ She brushed ineffectually at the smear before stepping back. ‘If it doesn’t come out in the wash let me know and I’ll replace the shirt—’
‘Cairo.’
‘It’s silk, right?’ Cairo continued. ‘Although you’ll
