unexpected she gave a soft gasp.
‘Well, obviously I won’t be mentioning that part.’
One dark eyebrow lifted and the faintest of smiles touched his hard mouth. That same mouth that had kissed her to oblivion the night before. The same mouth that had caressed its way down her shivering, compliant body. ‘If that’s your plan then you’d better learn not to blush or he’ll see right through you.’
Suddenly she was angry with him. And yes, with herself. It was embarrassingly unsophisticated to have a morning-after encounter with a face the shade of a tomato, especially when he seemed to be treating the whole episode with something that came close to indifference. No romantic words then, she thought numbly. No soft smiles or gentle touches to smooth the transition from passionate to professional. And maybe she should be grateful for that, Emma thought, as she strived to match his detached approach. She would have liked to look calm and businesslike and sail out of his life with her dignity intact but she knew there was very little chance of that. ‘Jamie doesn’t think the way you do.’
‘No?’ His expression revealed nothing of his thoughts. ‘What if you’re wrong? What if he guesses?’
‘Why would he guess? It’s not exactly the sort of thing we talk about.’
‘And yet you claim to be close?’
‘We’re close but I’m hardly going to tell him I slept with you, am I?’
‘I’m no expert on relationships, but I can imagine that would make things pretty awkward.’ His tone was scrupulously polite, as if they were in the office discussing a project. ‘And if that’s the way you want to play it, that’s fine with me. But I do have one question before we turn to more practical matters.’
Practical matters? ‘What question?’
There was silence, and that silence stretched from seconds to a full minute. A full minute that she counted out with each beat of her heart. And not once in that time did he stop looking at her. Not once did his gaze flicker from hers.
When he finally broke that silence, his voice was soft. ‘If your relationship with Jamie is “close”,’ he drawled, ‘why did you have sex with me?’
HE WATCHED as the colour deepened in her cheeks. On one level she fascinated him because everything about her was fresh and unexpected. Or perhaps it was just that he was jaded and cynical. Too jaded and cynical for someone like her. If circumstances had been different then perhaps, just perhaps, the conversation they were about to have would also have been different. But he couldn’t change the way he felt. Or rather, the way he didn’t feel.
If he hadn’t already regretted the madness that had driven him to take what she’d offered in the dark of the night then he regretted it now because it was all too easy to guess how she was feeling. It was written all over her face.
For her, it hadn’t been about living in the moment. It had been significant. And if there was one thing he didn’t look for in a relationship, it was significance. He was quite possibly the worst man she could have found herself trapped with in a snowstorm. And perhaps she knew that because right now she wasn’t looking at him. All he could see was her profile. The curve of her cheeks, slightly pinker than usual, the swoop of those dark eyelashes as she focused her gaze on the snowy landscape that isolated them as effectively as any moat.
It was up to him to unravel the mess.
‘Emma?’ He kept his voice neutral, knowing that the way he played the next few minutes was crucial. He didn’t want her to misinterpret what had happened between them. He didn’t want her yearning for something that wasn’t going to happen. Most of all he didn’t want her ending her relationship over it, even if that relationship seemed pathetically lacking to him. ‘Emma?’ He repeated her name more firmly and this time she turned, her expression confused.
‘I don’t really understand your question.’
Which left him with no choice but to take over both sides of the conversation. ‘Jamie. You’ve been with him for two years so it must be serious.’
She was eyeing him as if he were an alien. ‘I think there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding,’ she said slowly and Lucas frowned because he knew there was no ‘misunderstanding’.
He was plain-speaking to the point of blunt and he saw no reason to modify that trait now. Determined to extract the truth, he took her face in his hands, feeling the soft skin of her cheeks against his rough palms, noticing for the first time the flecks of green in her brown eyes.
‘He’s obviously someone who means a lot to you if you’ve been together for two years.’ He heard the cynicism in his own voice and thought bitterly that he had to stop judging other people’s relationships. What did he know about sustaining a long-term partnership? About as much as he knew about love. Which was precious little. His hands dropped to his sides.
Someone like him shouldn’t be touching her. He shouldn’t have touched her the night before and he shouldn’t be touching her now.
It was wrong on every level.
She was looking at him steadily. ‘I’ve been with him longer than two years. Jamie and I have been together for nine years. Which is basically the whole time he’s been alive. Jamie is my little brother. His current obsession is Star Wars Lego.’
It took a moment for those words to sink in.
Brother? Brother?
‘Lucas?’ She was still watching him. Carefully, as if his every reaction was a mystery to her. ‘I don’t know where you got the idea Jamie was my—I don’t know—significant other. You were the one who mentioned him earlier, so I assumed you knew who he was. It didn’t occur to me that I needed to explain.’
‘I heard you on the phone to him and—’ Lucas breathed deeply and dragged his hand over the back of his neck as he confronted the depth of his error. ‘Your brother?’
‘Yes.’
‘How can you have a brother who is nine years old?’
There was a hint of humour in her eyes. ‘I think you can probably work that out for yourself.’
‘But you’re—’
‘Twenty-four. And he’s a lot younger than me. Welcome to the world of complicated families.’ She shrugged. ‘Jamie lives with my sister and me. Or rather, he lives with my sister and I join them at weekends and holidays.’
‘But you live in London.’
‘During the week. On Friday nights I drive to them and take over so that Angie—that’s my sister—can have some time to herself. We’re sort of sharing the parenting. I suppose you could say I’m the main breadwinner.’
And with that simple statement it all fell into place.
Suddenly he understood her rule that she wouldn’t work on a Friday and never at a weekend. He realised how much he’d assumed and just how wrong he’d been. ‘I thought you kept your weekends free because you were
