looked shabby after the high gloss of the Kildare Hotel. And, although her son was usually a sweet-tempered and easy-going toddler, he must have picked up on her tension. Tonight he’d had a huge tantrum when she’d stopped him playing with his toy speed boat in the bath.
He was sleeping now, and as she’d gazed down at her beautiful son she had felt both pride and panic, for he so resembled his father. A father he would never know.
She felt a rush of guilt and self-pity. This wasn’t what she’d wanted for herself or for her son. In her dreams she’d wanted to give him everything she’d never had—two loving parents, financial security—but she’d tried marriage and it had been a disaster.
Even before Aristo’s obsession with work had blotted out the rest of his life she had felt like a gatecrasher in her own marriage. But then what had they really known about one another? How could you really know someone after just seven weeks?
Maybe if their marriage had had stronger foundations it might have been possible for them to face their problems together. But they’d had no common ground aside from a raging sexual attraction which had been enough to blind both of them to their fundamental incompatibility. He had been born into wealth. She, on the other hand, had grown up in a children’s home with a mother dosed up on prescription drugs and a father in prison.
And sex wasn’t enough to sustain a relationship—not without trust and openness and tenderness.
Divorce had been the only option, and, although she might be able to face that fact she still wasn’t up to facing Aristo. Thankfully, though, she would never have to see him again.
Her pulse twitched as she remembered telling him to talk to her through her lawyer. She could hardly believe that she’d spoken to him like that. But she’d been so desperate to leave before she said anything incriminating about George, and even more desperate to ensure that he would be out of her life for good.
Stifling a yawn, she picked up her phone and gazed gloomily down at the time on the screen. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed, pull the duvet over her head and forget about the mess she’d made of her life.
Unfortunately Elliot was dropping round to discuss the Claiborne meeting.
For a moment she considered calling him to cancel. But being on her own with a head full of regrets and recriminations was not a great idea.
Anticipating Elliot’s partisan comments as she relayed an edited version of the day’s events, she felt her mood lighten a fraction and, standing up, she walked into the tiny kitchen that led off from the living room.
She was just pulling a bottle of wine from the rack when she heard the entryphone.
Thank goodness! Elliot was early. Buzzing him up, she picked up a bottle of wine and two glasses.
‘Don’t be thinking we’re going to finish this—’ she began as she yanked open the door.
But her words trailed off into silence. It wasn’t Elliot standing there, with that familiar affectionate grin on his face. Instead it was Aristo, and he wasn’t smiling affectionately. In fact, he wasn’t smiling at all.
‘I WOULDN’T DREAM of it,’ he said softly.
He held out his hand, his eyes locking with hers, and his sudden, swift smile made her heart lurch forward.
‘You forgot these, and I was passing so…’
It was the pack of cards she’d left at his hotel.
She felt her breathing jerk. For a few seconds she couldn’t answer—couldn’t find the words to express her shock and confusion at finding him on her doorstep. Actually, not on her doorstep—he was already leaning against the frame, one foot resting negligently over the threshold so that shutting the door wouldn’t just be a challenge, but a virtual impossibility, given the disparity in their respective weights.
‘You were passing?’
She felt a shiver run over her skin as his dark gaze made a slow inspection of her, from the damp hair tumbling over her shoulders to her bare toes. Even if she’d been fully clothed she would have felt naked under his intense scrutiny, but she was wearing nothing but a T-shirt that was barely covered by her bathrobe.
There was a pulsing silence and then, tilting his head slightly, he glanced past her into the apartment. ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in? Or do you always entertain your guests in the corridor?’
‘You’re not a guest. Guests are invited, and I didn’t invite you.’ She stared at him suspiciously. ‘And I didn’t tell you where I lived either, so how did you find me?’
‘I looked up “beautiful female magician” in the phone book.’ His dark eyes glittered with amusement. ‘You were there—right at the top.’
Her skin was suddenly prickling, her stomach flipping over in response to his words. She’d spent so long remembering his flaws that she had forgotten he could make her laugh and it was an untimely reminder of why she’d fallen in love with him.
Only, even as her mouth began to curl upwards she knew she was making a mistake. The last thing she needed right now was to give him any hint of her continuing vulnerability where he was concerned so, tuning out the erratic beat of her heart, she shook her head. ‘Aristo—’
‘Okay, that was a lie.’ He shifted against the doorframe. ‘I actually looked up “angry, beautiful female magician”.’
Heart banging against her ribs, she took a deep breath, a rush of panic swamping her as she tried to gauge his mood. Surely if he’d found out about George he would be the angry one.
‘Did you follow me?’
His smile widened. ‘Of course. I have a second job as a private detective.’
Resisting the overriding urge to slam the door on his obviously expensive handmade shoes, she held his gaze. ‘Very funny. So you had somebody find out where I lived?’ She shook her head again. ‘That’s classy, Aristo.’
‘You gave me no choice. You left before we’d finished talking.’
His complete inability to understand what had happened back at the hotel sucked her breath from her lungs.
‘No, I had finished talking, Aristo,’ she said irritably. ‘That’s why I gave you the number of my lawyer.’
‘Ah, yes, your lawyer.’ Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder and frowned, pretending concern. ‘Are you sure you want everyone hearing about your private business?’
Teddie stared at him helplessly. She could tell from the glint in his eyes that he was not going to leave without saying whatever it was he wanted to say, and she couldn’t physically remove him herself.
Maybe she should call for back-up. But who would she call? Her maintenance charge for the apartment included a caretaker who was nominally responsible for security, but she had no idea how to get in touch with him, and Aristo might make a scene and wake George.
