back to the fireplace. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me? I had no idea you had responsibility for your brother. I’m not such a monster that I would have kept you that late in the office every night if you’d explained.’
‘There was nothing to explain. You pay me to do a job, and you pay me well. You have a right to expect the job done well. And I don’t need to leave early during the week. I rent a room in an area of south London that couldn’t exactly be described as a hub of activity. There’s not a lot to go back to and anyway, I love my job.’
He dimly remembered her saying that to him the night before. ‘Where exactly do you live?’
When she told him, Lucas didn’t even bother trying to hide how appalled he was. ‘If I’d known that I never would have let you work until two in the morning.’
‘You always arranged for me to have a lift home so it was never a problem.’
‘You still had to walk from the car to your house.’ And the thought of her doing that horrified him. She could have been mugged. Or worse.
‘You’re overreacting. More often than not the driver would wait until I put my key in the door, but honestly, Lucas, I was fine.’
He looked at her cheeks, pale as chalk, and knew she wasn’t fine now.
And not because of some random mugger who had attacked her in the street, but because of him. And he was about to make it a thousand times worse. He wasn’t about to offer up soft words and promises of happy ever afters. He wasn’t about to give her anything except a major dollop of pain.
What they’d shared was the sexual equivalent of a hit-and-run.
‘We have to talk about last night.’ His voice was rougher than he intended and she looked as uncomfortable as if he’d just suggested she strip naked and pose for him.
And she’d already done that.
He had a vivid image of her body, creamy skin warmed by the firelight, her curves both a sensual invitation and a balm to a man seeking oblivion.
He no longer had to wonder what she looked like under her ultra conservative clothing. He knew. And he had to wipe it from his mind.
‘Honestly, I’d rather not.’ Her hands were clasped in front of her, her knuckles white. ‘Just tell me whether you want me to hand write the letter now or type it up and email it to you.’
Lucas dragged his mind away from thoughts that could only be described as shocking. ‘What letter?’
‘My letter of resignation. Or I suppose you could lend me a computer and I can just type it here if you like.’
‘Resignation?’ It was the last thing he’d expected her to say. ‘What are you talking about? Why would you resign?’
‘Er...because that’s the only option?’
‘Well, it’s not an option that works for me,’ Lucas thundered, the sudden rush of anger surprising him almost as much as her unexpected proposal. His emotions were all over the place and that shocked him too because he wasn’t used to having to struggle for control. Usually it wasn’t concealing emotion that was his problem, it was expressing it. ‘I don’t know why you would even suggest it when you’ve just spent five minutes telling me how much you love your job and how much you need the money. You’re not resigning and that’s final.’
Her eyes widened. ‘That’s my decision.’
‘Well, you’re making the decision for the wrong reasons so I’m not accepting it.’
‘You honestly think we can still work together after last night?’
‘Yes. Because last night was a one-off and is never going to happen again.’ He knew from experience that it was better to spell it out but if he’d expected her to wilt then again she surprised him.
‘I know that. But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to work together. It would be horribly, hideously awkward. It’s already horribly, hideously awkward and since you obviously prefer to be blunt about the whole thing, I’ll be blunt too. I cannot believe I had sex with my boss. I cannot believe I was so unprofessional.’ She fiddled with the edge of her sweater and then turned away from him but Lucas wasn’t having that.
‘Why are you blaming yourself?’ He closed his hands around her shoulders and spun her round to face him, forcing her to look at him. ‘What happened last night was my responsibility, not yours.’
‘That isn’t true. You didn’t know what you were doing.’ She looked pale and tired and suddenly he remembered the nightmare drive she’d had to reach him the night before. That alone must have been exhausting. And then there had been everything that had happened afterwards.
He gave a humourless laugh. ‘Emma, I knew exactly what I was doing.’ Escaping. Taking ruthless advantage of a decent young woman who ordinarily wouldn’t have found herself anywhere near a man as damaged as him.
‘It was my fault. You were out of your mind with grief,’ she said softly. ‘I handled it badly.’
‘No, you didn’t.’
‘You told me to go away. Over and over again you told me to go. And did I listen? No, of course not.’ Her tone was loaded with self-recrimination. ‘It was so arrogant of me to think I could help. Stupid. There was nothing that could have helped, I see that now.’
‘You did help.’ And that had come as a surprise. For those moments in front of the flickering fire, the pain had eased. But at what cost? Guilt gnawed at him. ‘I owe you an apology.’
‘For what?’
‘I used you.’ His brutal honesty made her flinch.
‘That isn’t the way I see it.’
‘Well, it’s the way it was.’ He refused to gild the truth and when she tried to pull away he tightened his grip, refusing to let her duck the subject. With that in mind he asked the question that had been playing on his mind since waking. ‘I was rough. Did I hurt you?’
‘No! You were amazing. The whole thing was incredible. To be wanted like that and—oh God, I can’t believe I just said that—’ She covered her face with her hands, her moan muffled. ‘Please, just shoot me right now. Shoot me and end this. This has to be the single most embarrassing moment of my life. Please—if you’re a nice man you’ll accept my resignation and then I’ll never have to face you again.’
There was something so hopelessly endearing about her that had the situation not been so serious, he would have smiled. ‘I’m not a nice man and you’ll be facing me on a daily basis, so you might as well get used to it.’ He tugged her hands away from her face. ‘And because I’m not a nice man I’m going to embarrass you even more by asking when you last had sex with someone.’
‘That is such a personal question—’ And then she caught the ironic lift of his eyebrow and turned vivid scarlet. ‘You’re thinking that we’ve already made this personal—’
‘Just a little.’ He made a concerted effort to delete thoughts of the way her lithe, naked body had felt under his. ‘So when?’
