that meant he wasn’t going to repeat that mistake. ‘Being “in love” is just temporary. It’s hormonal. Whereas what we’ve got has a much more solid foundation and it’s not going to change.’
‘Isn’t it? Because that’s what worries me, Alex.’ She bit her lip. ‘I don’t want to lose your friendship when it all goes pear- shaped.’
He sighed. ‘Apart from the fact that it’s not going to go pear-shaped, things aren’t going to change between us.’
‘How do you know? Unless you’re talking about a marriage in name only—and as you said you weren’t planning to have a string of girlfriends, I have to assume you’re…’ Her voice tailed off and she actually blushed.
He’d never seen her colour like that before.
And even though he knew he wasn’t playing fair, he couldn’t resist teasing her. ‘Assume what, Bel?’
‘That getting married means having sex with each other.’ Her flush deepened.
Alex felt as if his skin were suddenly burning, too. Sex with Isobel. Right now, he was holding her. Loosely, admittedly, but he was still holding her. All he had to do was move forward a fraction, dip his head, and he could kiss her.
His mouth went dry.
He could remember the last time he’d kissed her, other than the usual peck on the cheeks that accompanied their welcoming hugs when they hadn’t seen each other for a while. The night she’d come round to their house, crying her eyes out because her boyfriend had dumped her for someone more glamorous and less studious, and he’d answered the door. Saskia had been out, so he’d taken Isobel into the summer house in their garden for a heart-to-heart. He’d told her that the boyfriend was an idiot and it didn’t matter because there was a whole world out there just waiting for her to conquer it.
And he’d kissed her.
Just once.
Before remembering that Isobel was eighteen to his twenty-three, much less worldly-wise, and he really shouldn’t be kissing her like that.
Now he wondered what would’ve happened if he’d kissed her a second time. Would they have ended up making love in the summer house? Would he have been the one to introduce her to the pleasures of love-making?
And what shocked him even more was that his body was reacting even now at the thought of it.
Making love with Isobel.
He became aware that she was speaking.
‘And besides, I’m not your type.’
‘I don’t have a type,’ Alex protested.
‘Yes, you do. You always go for tall, skinny brunettes with legs up to their armpits.’
‘You have dark hair.’ The colour of a chestnut that had just slipped out of its prickly case, it was soft and silky when he ran his fingers through it. ‘And you’re not short.’ She was curvy rather than skinny, though with three younger sisters he knew much better than to discuss a woman’s weight or body shape.
‘I’m five feet four. That makes me slightly shorter than the average woman.’
He smiled at her. ‘It also makes you two inches taller than the average Roman woman in the fourth century.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Trust you to know that.’
He laughed. ‘Actually, you were the one who told me. When you were researching your first talk about Roman women.’
She stared at him in obvious surprise. ‘You remember that?’
‘Course I do. We must have sat up half the night talking about it. Well, after I’d bored the pants off you with all those photographs of the dig I’d just come back from.’
‘I wasn’t bored.’
‘See? We have things in common. Lots of things. And we like each other. Getting married would work, Bel.’
The colour was back in her cheeks, even deeper this time. ‘Supposing we’re not, um, compatible?’
‘Compatible?’
‘In bed,’ she muttered. ‘What if I’m rubbish at sex?’
‘If that’s what Gary said, he clearly wasn’t doing it right— and his ego made him blame you.’
‘Mmm.’
‘Look at me, Bel,’ he said softly. She had huge brown eyes that had topaz glints when she laughed, and a perfect rosebud mouth. Why had he never really noticed that before? ‘I think we’d be…’ he paused as his heart gave an unexpected kick ‘…compatible.’
‘I can’t believe we’re even discussing this!’ She pulled back from him. ‘So why didn’t you ever get married, Alex?’
He let her go. ‘Because my job meant a lot of travelling— and that meant either living apart from my wife most of the time, or dragging her around the world with me. Neither option’s a fair one.’
‘And you never met anyone who made you want to stay in one place?’
Once, but that had been a long time ago. In the days when he’d still worn rose-coloured glasses. Before he’d discovered that Dorinda was a liar and a cheat and had played everyone for a fool, including him. Since then, he’d never quite been able to trust anyone. He’d held back in his relationships, unwilling to risk his heart again and have it ground beneath a stiletto heel. Keeping things light and fun had worked for him, until now. ‘I told you, I don’t believe in love. But I do believe in friendship. In honesty. And if you marry me, Bel, I’ll be a good husband to you.’ A much better one than Gary had been.
‘I can’t get married. Ask someone else.’
There wasn’t anyone else he’d trust enough to marry. He shrugged. ‘Look, forget I asked. Come on, I’m taking you out to dinner.’
‘Why?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘It’s not an ulterior motive. You’ve said no and I’m not going to bully you into saying yes. Bel, you’re putting me up for a few days, so taking you out for dinner to say thank you is the least I can do.’
‘Alex, you don’t need to do that. You know I never mind you staying here.’
He smiled. ‘I know. But I like having dinner out with you. I like talking history and arguing over interpretations and laughing too much and eating half your pudding—because I’m greedy and you’re always nice to me.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘You’re impossible.’
‘Uh-huh.’ But to his relief she was smiling and relaxed with him again. ‘Is that Moroccan place we went to last time still open?’
‘I think so.’
‘Good. Let’s
