him like a round of bullets. ‘How could you possibly know? No one at the hospital knows, apart from Gracie McCurcher, and she’s sworn to secrecy.’
He was still looking at me with an amused expression, which wasn’t doing my escalating anger any favours. I felt like a pressure cooker inside me was about to explode. I could feel it expanding in my chest until I could scarcely draw breath.
‘I heard about it via an old school friend of mine who works in the same company as your ex,’ he said. ‘We met for a drink a couple of days before you returned to work. He told me how he’d just come back from Yorkshire where the wedding of his colleague had been cancelled at the last minute. I wouldn’t have taken any notice except he mentioned your name. Bertie is quite unusual so when you turned up at work I put two and two together.’
I gave him a livid glare. ‘So why didn’t you blow my cover then and there? That would’ve been quite a laugh for you, along with my project title.’
The amused look was exchanged for one that suspiciously looked like pity, or at least something very close to it. ‘I figured you had your reasons for keeping quiet about it. I decided to play along for a bit.’
I sent him another paint-stripping look. Seriously, I could’ve taken my new paint burner back to the hardware store and used my gaze on my house instead. ‘Why?’ I shot back. ‘So you could have a joke at my expense? Mock me while you pretended to be interested in me?’
His eyes darkened to a deeper bluey grey as they held mine, his voice deep and gravelly. ‘I wasn’t pretending.’
My heart kicked against my breastbone. ‘You weren’t?’
He shook his head.
‘Oh, well, then …’
‘You have to tell everyone, Bertie. Surely you see that?’
I stood from the bed and crossed my arms over my body. ‘No. No. No. I can’t. I just can’t.’
‘Why are you so worried about what people will say?’
I turned back to look at him. ‘I spent most of my childhood being laughed at. I can’t bear people sniggering at me, or—worse—pitying me. If I were to tell everyone now I was jilted the night before my wedding they’ll howl with laughter or cringe in pity. It’s too late. I have to keep it quiet. I have to.’
‘Come here.’ His voice had a commanding tone to it I found wonderfully soothing. It was like he was going to take charge—please, don’t tell my bra-burning mother I said that!—and make everything right for me. I sat beside him on the bed and he took one of my hands in his. ‘You don’t have to keep pretending. The longer it goes on the harder it’ll be to undo. People will understand. They really will, sweetheart. Trust me.’
It really got me when he called me that. A lot of men utter endearments without making them sound genuine. But I wasn’t convinced a tell-all in the staffroom was going to work for me. Besides, I didn’t have the guts to do it. My childhood scars were too deep, too raw to have them scraped open by even one giggle or chuckle. ‘Please,’ I said. ‘Please, try and understand.’
He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, his eyes holding mine in a tender look. I don’t think anyone—no man at least—has ever looked at me like that. He looked like he really cared about me, about my feelings, about my insecurities. ‘I do understand. It’s tough when things don’t work out the way you’d planned. But you’ll get over it in time.’
I gave him a narrowed look. ‘Please, don’t tell me you feel sorry for me.’
He stroked his thumb over the back of my hand. ‘I feel sorry you feel so pressured to fit in that you can’t be honest with people. But you don’t have to hide or pretend with me, okay?’
I could feel a little wobble of my chin, which was the closest I’ve got to crying in a very long time. ‘Okay.’ It was barely a whisper but it sure felt good to say it. To admit I trusted him to keep my secret safe.
He trailed a finger over the back of my hand. ‘There’s a way around this.’
I suppressed a shiver as his finger travelled to the underside of my wrist where my pulse was skyrocketing. ‘There is?’
His eyes scorched mine. ‘We could have a secret relationship.’
I noted the word ‘secret’. Not my favourite word right then, but still. I swallowed as his finger made a lazy circle against the skin of my palm. It felt like he had touched me intimately, stroking me to arousal. ‘I want you to know I don’t do this sort of thing normally.’
‘I know.’
I looked at him again. Directly. Staunchly. ‘I mean it, Matt. This is totally out of character for me.’
He gently brushed a strand of hair back from my face. I had always longed for a man to do that to me. Andy never seemed to notice my tendrils, even the ones I’d deliberately staged to hang loose so he could push them back. ‘Maybe we need to get this thing between us out of our system. What do you say?’
‘Well,’ I said, tapping my finger against my lip for a moment, ‘I do have a couple of stipulations.’
‘Which are?’
‘This bed, for one thing.’ I stood up and put my hands on my hips again. ‘If I’m going to have bed-wrecking sex with you, then we at least need to start with a bed that’s not already wrecked.’
He gave another lopsided smiled as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. ‘You are one crazy girl.’
‘But you like me, right?’
He stood and brushed his fingertips down my cheek, his smile, even as it faded, still making my insides turn over. ‘I hope you don’t catch my bug.’
‘Thanks to my parents, I have a robust immune system.’
He gave one of my Dorothy from Oz pigtails a gentle tug. ‘You’re going to need it.’
I REMADE THE bed with fresh linen and dumped the other in the laundry downstairs. I would have set on a load but I had other priorities right then. When I came back up Matt was standing next to the bed with just a towel draped around his hips. I went to him as if I’d been doing it all my adult life. It felt so natural to walk into his open arms and feel them come around me like strong, warm bands.
He smelt divine, soap and shampoo and his own male smell, and he was warm and still a little damp from the shower. I was damp too. I could feel my body stirring in response to his closeness; the maleness of him against my softer contours was enough to send my senses spinning.
His mouth came down to the side of mine, touching and teasing the corner of my mouth in a tantalisingly little prelude of what was to come. I turned my head so his lips came into full contact with mine. I wasn’t in the mood for preludes. I wanted the whole damn symphony and in forte.
His mouth was warm and firm and moved against mine with devastating expertise. There was amazing choreography in our kisses. There were no
