colouring his voice.
‘With cuddles, if they’re frightened or upset?’ she said tartly, ignoring the pang her heart gave. She would never have children because they couldn’t be Harry’s. ‘Absolutely.’
Once in the kitchen with the puppy cradled against her chest, she didn’t try to clamber onto a stool, but stood and watched him as he filled the kettle and then placed two slices of bread in the toaster. ‘Mind if I go through to the sitting room?’ she asked as casually as she could. ‘My feet are cold on these tiles.’
‘Be my guest. I’ll bring the tray through in a minute or two.’
There was a dark stubble on his chin. He was as unlike the perfectly groomed, smooth operator of daylight hours as the man in the moon. And a hundred times more dangerous.
Tingling with something she didn’t want to put a name to, Gina made her way to the sitting room and chose a big, plumpy chair to curl up in, carefully positioning her feet under her and making sure the robe was discreetly in place. The puppy stirred briefly and then settled itself again as Gina gently stroked the plump little body. She gazed down at the sleeping animal, a sense of surrealism taking hold.
How on earth had she come to be in this position? Practically naked—apart from one piece of cloth—in Harry’s house at four o’clock in the morning, with him equally partially clothed making tea and toast in the kitchen? Worse, with her hair probably resembling a bird’s nest, and her face all shiny and devoid of even the tiniest touch of make-up. Even in her wildest dreams—and there had been more than a few where Harry was concerned—she wouldn’t have been able to come up with this scenario.
She’d had fantasies, more than she could remember, but they had all featured her perfectly made up and looking ravishing, and Harry suddenly realizing the error of his ways and falling at her feet in adoration before whisking her off to bed. After that, it had been roses round the door and a ring the size of a golf ball.
She sighed. Impossible dreams. Impossible happy-ever-after. Impossible man. Still, at least the ‘roses round the door’ bit was in place. She smiled ruefully. And this was one hundred per cent the sort of house made for a family—babies, children. Harry’s babies. She shut her eyes, her heart actually paining her.
Harry had made it clear he would never consider matrimony again, let alone becoming a father. He was now a ruthless bachelor, married to freedom, and only dating women who were happy to embrace their temporary place in his life gracefully. A wife and babies didn’t come into the equation anywhere. Perhaps it was a blessing she wasn’t his type. If he had fancied her she wouldn’t have been able to resist for long, and a brief affair would have left her in a worse emotional mess than she was now.
Hearing his footsteps, she arranged her face into an acceptable expression, even managing a smile as her eyes met his. He was carrying a tray on which reposed two mugs of tea and a large plateful of buttered toast, along with several preserves. ‘You have been busy,’ she said lightly, thinking how unfair it was that men could look drop-dead gorgeous when they were at their most dishevelled, whereas women merely looked bedraggled. At least, Harry could. She didn’t know about other men, never having spent the night with one.
‘Dinner seems a long time ago.’ He grinned at her, putting the tray down and gesturing towards the puppy in her lap. ‘She’s adopted you. Sensible puppy.’
Gina grew hot. It was absolutely stupid to be so affected by the soft warmth in his voice, but she couldn’t help it, in spite of knowing this was Harry in flirt mode. It didn’t mean anything, not to him at least.
Drawing on the iron self-control that had got her through the last months since that Christmas kiss, she said flatly, ‘Hardly sensible. I’m leaving at the weekend for good, and a puppy definitely doesn’t feature on my agenda.’
He handed her her tea and offered the plate of toast. She took a triangle, not because she really wanted it, but more to give herself something to do. She had never felt so vulnerable and exposed in all her life.
‘You’re sure you want to go?’ he said after a moment or two had ticked by.
Want to go? She had never wanted anything less. ‘Absolutely,’ she said firmly. To add weight to her words, she looked him straight in the eye, steeling herself to show no emotion as she said, ‘And we had this conversation during dinner.’
He nodded. ‘I wasn’t convinced then either.’
‘I thought I’d made it clear, I need to leave Yorkshire.’
‘Ah, but need isn’t necessarily want.’ There was a significant little silence as he fixed her with a hard, meaningful look. ‘You’ll be miserable in London,’ he declared authoritatively.
‘Thanks a bunch. Some friend you are.’ Sarcasm was a great hiding place.
‘You told me I wasn’t a friend.’ His eyes mocked her. ‘What exactly am I, Gina? How do you see me?’
She didn’t like the way this conversation was going. He was playing games, probably just to kill a few minutes as far as he was concerned.
Fighting for composure, she took a deep breath and lifted her head. She smiled thinly. ‘You’re my boss’s son.’
‘Ex-boss’s son,’ he returned drily. ‘OK, what else?’
‘You’re very good at what you do—accomplished, experienced.’
‘Thank you,’ he said gravely. ‘What else?’
‘Does there have to be more?’
‘I should damn well hope so.’ He paused and studied her face. ‘As a man,’ he said quietly. ‘A person. Do you like me?’
‘You shouldn’t have to ask that, we’ve worked together for just over a year,’ she said weakly.
‘My point exactly. And I would have termed us as friends. You, on the other hand, would not. So I’m beginning to realise I don’t know how your mind works, which means I perhaps don’t know the real Gina at all. In fact, I’m sure I don’t. I didn’t know you had a lover somewhere in the background, for example.’
His eyes were tight on her, questioning. Rallying herself, and aware she was as taut as piano wire, she said coolly, ‘Forgive me, Harry, but I don’t remember you discussing your personal life, either. Any part of it. Whereas you know about my family, friends—’
‘Not all of them, obviously.’
Ignoring that, she continued, ‘My childhood, my youth, my time at university—I’ve discussed all that—whereas you’ve been … guarded.’
There was an awkward silence. He stared at her, all amusement gone. ‘Yes.’ His voice sounded odd. ‘I have. I was. But for what it’s worth I’ve never told anyone the full story about Anna before. Apart from my parents at the time I left the country, that is. Does that count for anything?’
She looked down at the toast in her hand. Her heart was a tight ball of cotton wool in her throat, choking her. ‘I didn’t mean I expected you should have necessarily talked to me, just that you can hardly take me to task for the same thing.’
The silence stretched longer this time. ‘I appreciate
