Читать книгу: «In Bed With Her Tall, Sexy Handsome Boss: All Night with the Boss / The Boss's Wife for a Week / My Tall Dark Greek Boss», страница 5

‘Feeling cold?’ he mocked.

Desire and anger merged and grew. She was so close to the edge. She sucked her lips in and bit down on them, trying to suppress the throbbing desire, wishing the pressure on them could be his lips rather than her own teeth. Then she took a breath. ‘Practically hypothermic.’

The hint of a smile softened his blazing stare. The pressure of his hand on her wrist grew and he pulled her towards him. His other hand came up and cradled her jaw, his thumb sweeping down from her cheek to her chin in soft strokes.

‘Why do you care so much what they think? You don’t do what you want because you think people might say something behind your back. Why should you even care?’

She stared up at him. He was wrong. It wasn’t about other people. She didn’t do what she wanted because she knew from past experience that it would be the worst thing for her. An office affair was a fantasy that invariably ended as a nightmare. The environment was false; you worked as a close unit for a short time, living in each other’s pockets. Adrenaline and excitement gave an unnatural high. It wasn’t the real world and who knew what secrets were in Rory’s life outside the office? What would happen when he was locked away in another project room with another temp he might find attractive?

His thumb continued its gentle stroking. The response in her bones was not so gentle. Despite what her brain was telling her, she wanted him badly.

‘Let’s really give them something to talk about,’ he said softly, his focus on her mouth. His thumb stroked her lips. They parted a fraction. He stroked his thumb across again, pushing it in slightly so she felt it brush against her tongue. Her desire to taste him intimately flared.

‘If they’re all thinking it, it seems a shame not to make the most of it.’ He looked down at her, hesitating.

‘What do you want from me?’ She stared at him, feeling tortured.

He looked at her with such solemn intensity that she knew she was about to get a painfully honest answer.

‘Everything. I want to touch you, taste you. I want to see you writhe in pleasure. I want to see you lose control.’

‘Why?’ She barely recognised the croaky whisper as her own.

He gave a wry smile. ‘It would make me feel good.’

‘What—to have control over me?’

‘No.’ His eyes darkened in frustration. ‘Not like that. I want to know that I can touch you in ways that drive you crazy, that I can satisfy you.’

Her eyes widened in surprise. She didn’t try to hide it. Her head ached and she was using all her energy to stay on her feet. She couldn’t possibly hide anything from him right now. She answered huskily. ‘You should know that already.’

His eyes blazed, boring into hers. ‘Are you going to let me?’

‘I don’t think I have much choice.’

He growled. ‘Of course you do. You decide.’

‘I’m sick of fighting it.’

‘Fighting me?’

‘No, fighting me.’

His thumb continued rubbing her jaw gently and his gaze dropped to her mouth again.

She knew he wanted to kiss her but he held firm, watching, waiting for her to acquiesce. He seemed to be holding heaven out to her and all she had to do was lean forward and take it from him. The long days and even longer nights of loneliness and want and need overwhelmed her. She blanked the future, no longer caring, no longer able to think. All that mattered right now was this.

Her control snapped. ‘I want you to touch me,’ she whispered fiercely. ‘I want you.’

She didn’t just agree, she became the aggressor. It was what she had been wanting for so long. With a speed and strength that surprised both of them she reached up and ran both hands through his hair, pulling his head down to meet her hungry mouth. She licked and tasted him. Vaguely she heard him groan and then she moaned in delight as he pulled her hard up against him. They met length to length. She let him take her weight. He held her easily. The pressure of his hard chest against her sensitive breasts was dynamite. She squirmed her hips against his, her delight at feeling his arousal rendering her unable to control her writhing action. They were the perfect height for each other. Her long legs ensured that they met in the middle, just where they were supposed to. He put his hands on her hips and gripped hard, holding her while he slowly rocked against her, simulating the closer connection that she craved. And all the while their lips, teeth and tongues swirled and danced in a kiss so passionate she never wanted it to end, never wanted any of it to end.

But it wasn’t enough. She was desperate to feel his bare skin against hers. Desperate to have him touch her intimately, taste her, suck her, fill her. She tugged at his shirt and moaned in frustration when it wouldn’t give. He pulled back from her slightly.

‘Lissa,’ he said raggedly. ‘Lissa, we can’t.’

It was not what she wanted to hear. A feral growl escaped her and she reached up for him again. He held his head back firmly. ‘They might come back any minute.’

Who? she wondered, half crazed. Right now she didn’t give a damn.

He swore softly. ‘Hell, beautiful, why did you have to pick tonight of all nights?’ He stared into her eyes, and her need must have been clearly evident. ‘I’ll give you what you want, honey,’ he whispered softly as he stood back from her a fraction. And then his warm, strong hand slid down the waistband of her skirt and straight into her panties. She gasped in surprise. His palm pressed hard against her and his fingers delved lower, stroking those lips. Her legs buckled and he caught her with his other arm. He backed her up so she was pressing against the table. Her legs spread wide of their own volition and she found herself leaning back on her hands before she knew it. He kept his hand where it was and his fingers started stroking rhythmically. He bent over her and claimed her mouth once more. His other hand lifted and caressed her breast, teasing the already hard nipple—swirling around it, rubbing, gently squeezing. Her whole body shook with delight, her aching mind relieved of thought, only capable of absorbing the sensations he incited.

After a few heavenly minutes she wrenched her mouth free of his, gasping for air. His lips trailed across her jaw and down her neck. Big, open-mouthed kisses that alternately sucked and soothed. She was on fire, in ecstasy and hurtling towards oblivion. Her breathless gasps accelerated to audible moans as his fingers continued their erotic torment and his thumb rotated around her sensitive nub. It made her want more, much more. She wanted everything. She stirred against him, and murmuring against her, he upped the pressure and pace.

The tempo and volume of her soft moans increased accordingly and she threw her head back, her hips bucking as her body tensed, on the edge of release. The cry of pleasure already building in her chest.

Then he was gone. Without warning he’d pulled back and with a muttered oath whipped his hand free.

‘No!’ she moaned, frantic. Just a few seconds more, just one second more!

‘What is it with us and timing?’ He grasped her shoulders and stood her upright, then quickly turned and pulled her chair out for her. She practically fell into it, breathless and stunned and so, so frustrated. She had been so close to what would have been the most powerful orgasm of her life. She sat dazed, wondering what the hell had just happened. Then she heard them. Voices, along the corridor. Rory must have heard the elevator bell.

‘Come home with me tonight,’ he said urgently in a low voice as he dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief before sliding into his own seat. He looked across at her, his eyes stormy and brilliant.

She stared at him, barely able to breathe let alone think or reply. Suddenly her headache came pounding back, blindingly vicious. The euphoria of the previous moment vanished and the void was rapidly filled with an icy cold. What was she doing? The emptiness was unbearable. She stared at him as horror sank in. Her uncontrollable desire for him appalled her. She was far on the road of no return and she needed to fight it. Fight hard. She curled her shaking hands into fists on her lap. She opened her mouth, bracing herself for her reply. She needed to shoot this down now.

The door opened and in walked James and Marnie bearing large pizza boxes. The smell hit Lissa like a wall of slime. Disgusting.

She didn’t stop working as they ate, knowing she was on borrowed time for getting the last of the work done before this headache rendered her utterly useless. She nodded as James set a piece of pizza beside her, but ignored it completely as she desperately focussed on ensuring there were no errors whatsoever in the final version.

Finally she sighed and clicked the save icon for what she hoped would be the last time. ‘Can someone check this? I think I’m done here.’

Marnie came straight over waving another slice of pizza at her. Lissa shook her head and winced as pain knifed through her temple.

‘Are you OK?’ Marnie asked.

‘Fine,’ she replied softly, aware that Rory’s head had jerked up at the question. She could sense his scrutiny.

Marnie watched over her shoulder as she scrolled through the pages. ‘Looks great to me. Awesome. You are done!’ she said at the conclusion.

Lissa let out a breath in relief and began to tidy away her things. Her hands shook slightly as she tried to work methodically through the pile.

Marnie’s voice seemed to come from a distance. ‘Hey, you’re really flushed. Are you sure you’re OK?’

She looked up and summoned the strength from who knew where to reply. ‘It’s just a headache.’ She waved a vague hand at the computers. ‘All that staring at the screen.’

Marnie smiled and nodded. ‘Go home and SLEEP. You’re so lucky this is all finished for you tonight. We’ve still got the big exam in the morning.’

She smiled weakly. Yes, for her it was over. Tomorrow she’d be back at her usual desk in the information centre. HQ would be a plain old meeting room again. The paper removed from the windows. Rory would be working on the floor below. The soreness in her throat sharpened.

‘Is there anything else you’d like me to do?’ her voice rasped. She avoided looking at Rory by fussing with her bag.

‘No,’ she heard him say quietly. ‘You’ve done more than enough for tonight. We can take it from here.’ He paused. ‘Thank you.’

Did she imagine that tender stress in the way he said thank you? She couldn’t bear it. As she reached the door she turned and addressed the room in general. ‘Good luck for tomorrow.’

By the time she got home she was shaking head to toe. Alternately hot then cold, it was all she could do to get a glass of water, strip off her suit, pull an old tee shirt on and collapse into bed. Restful sleep eluded her. Flashes of moments with Rory span chaotically in her mind. She relived snatches of their meetings, the flare between them. She tossed and turned, her body either aching or on fire. It was close to dawn and the birds had started chirping when she finally descended into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Five

RORY ran up the stairs back at the office with more energy than a nuclear reactor. The blood in his veins sang. He felt vitally alive and his excitement was palpable. James and Marnie had fed off it too. The meeting had been fantastic. The client had bought it hook, line and sinker and awarded a massive project to Franklin. He’d proved his right to win that promotion well and truly.

And now he was going to win what he’d really been racing for. Lissa. No holding back. Last night, she’d blown him away. So passionate. So damn hot. Utterly on fire for him. He’d nearly lost all reason and had her on the table then and there. How good that would have looked when James and Marnie walked back in with that pizza.

He laughed aloud exultantly. He’d hardly slept but he wouldn’t have with the meeting today anyway. He didn’t mind that it had scuppered the chance of being with her last night. It made the prospect of tonight even more exciting. It felt as if he’d wanted her for ever. It had been good to have the presentation to concentrate on in the end; reciting facts and figures had been a way to finally get to sleep rather than twisting and turning all night with the most enormous erection of his life. Of course, he’d been dreaming of her when he woke. The ache in his body had been growing since the night he first met her. She was so alive. So refreshingly blunt. Her laughter. So sexy with those long legs and caramel hair. But her reluctance in the office nearly killed him. It was all he could do to stop himself from teasing her, tormenting her into betraying herself. Making her reveal the sparkle and enthusiasm he knew bubbled under that cool façade.

His body tightened at the thought of the night to come. Unbuttoned and tousled. Oh, yes, it was all going to happen. After her response last night he knew she wouldn’t say no to him.

He wasn’t sure what she’d wanted to do just as the others got back. He’d seen the fear in her eyes and guessed she wanted to try to push him away again. But she couldn’t. She’d opened up to him and going back now was impossible. He knew. He knew her passion for him was as blazing as his for her. And she knew he knew.

He strode into the library wanting to establish a date even before going to debrief George, the managing partner, on how the meeting had gone. He came to an abrupt halt by her empty chair. Damn. He looked around, encountering Gina’s bland look.

‘She’s not here,’ she said.

Disappointment hit him in the chest and a bad feeling rose with it.

‘She’s at home. Sick.’

He flinched, the bad feeling bang on. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Flu, I think. She sounded terrible.’ Gina and Hugo were both watching him closely. Did they know something of what was going on with him and Lissa? Frankly he didn’t care what they thought, but he knew Lissa did.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to let her know how we got on today.’

Hugo nodded and went back to his work. Rory glanced at Gina. Her sceptical ‘yeah, right’ expression let him know he hadn’t fooled her one iota. He winked and left.

An hour and a bit later, after meeting George with James and Marnie and wangling the afternoon off as time in lieu, he was bounding up another flight of stairs. Thank God he’d driven her home that night otherwise he’d have had to con her address out of Gina or HR. That would have definitely raised eyebrows.

He reached the door of her flat and pounded on it. If she was sick, he’d take care of her.

Hell.

He’d do anything for this woman.

He stopped banging as he absorbed that idea. Anything?

No, he’d do the same for anybody who was unwell. Compassion, a normal human reaction. He wasn’t driven by any greater urgency just because it was Lissa, was he?

He hadn’t had a serious girlfriend in a while, didn’t want one. Had dated, sure, but nothing much more. He’d been too preoccupied with his career. Damn it, he was still preoccupied with his career. Only now something else demanded his attention.

Lissa.

After waiting a while he rapped again, harder this time, unable to stop the drive that insisted he see her. Finally, he heard some movement on the other side of the door. It opened a fraction and when he saw her big tawny eyes staring at him in surprise, he pushed it right open.

She was wearing an old white tee shirt over panties and nothing else. At least he hoped she wore panties; the shirt hung down to mid-thigh and he couldn’t quite tell. All the blood in his body headed south—fast. He forced his eyes back up.

A sheen of sweat bathed her face and her eyes looked huge in her pale face. Huge and slightly glazed. She’d twisted her hair back into a loose, low pony-tail but large sections were escaping. He thought she looked beautiful, but while his gut twisted with desire he could see she was in no way up to a marathon session of love-making. She looked about ready to collapse on the spot. The protective male bit in him reared its head.

‘What?’ She looked stunned to see him.

‘I wanted to make sure you were OK.’ Well, he wanted that and a few other things, but they’d have to wait right now.

‘I’m fine.’ She leant back against the wall for support.

‘No, you’re not,’ he said softly, stepping into the tiny hall and closing the door behind him.

She pulled upright with visible effort and walked through into the main room. Rory followed, looking about him with growing concern. The place was tiny. A studio apartment and freezing to boot. His concern leapt into worry and then manifested as irritation. He couldn’t help but notice the big bed in the corner with the sheets in disarray. He looked away hurriedly. She obviously wasn’t sleeping too good, judging by the way the covers were tossed about. Either that or she never made her bed.

‘Have you eaten?’ He tried to focus back to the basics.

She shook her head weakly.

‘Drunk anything?’

Again she shook her head.

His voice rose in irritation. ‘Taken any medication?’

She put up a hand. ‘Don’t start lecturing me. I’m fine; it’s just a wee bug.’

He stood back watching as she tottered back to the bed, obviously trying to control the shivering. ‘Like hell it’s a wee bug. You look half dead.’ He swung around the room. ‘Where’s the kitchen in this place?’

She gestured to the bi-folding cupboard doors in the far corner. He wrenched them open and stared in disbelief. The kitchen, or kitchenette he supposed it would be called, consisted of a bar fridge, a shelf for groceries, about three plates and assorted mismatched cutlery, a microwave, twin hotplate and sink. He looked at the few packets on the shelf. Cereal, cereal and more cereal. All quarter to half full. He opened the fridge, already knowing what he’d find.

Just as he’d thought; skimmed milk and a couple of tubs of yoghurt. The bottle of chocolate sauce standing alone on the middle shelf diverted him momentarily. Wrenching his mind away from the extremely exciting vision of licking chocolate off her breasts, he slammed the door shut with force. ‘This is ridiculous. What do you eat?’

‘There’s a supermarket just around the corner,’ she replied defensively. ‘I haven’t been for a couple of days.’

‘Obviously. No wonder you’re so trim. You’re half starved.’

‘I eat at the office,’ she said resentfully.

‘You eat cereal at the office. Don’t you eat anything else?’

‘I really like soup,’ she replied, tilting her chin up, daring him to criticise her.

Resisting the urge to plant a kiss on those upturned lips as he wanted, he rolled his eyes instead. ‘When did you last have a decent home-cooked meal?’

‘This is my home. I do cook. And it’s none of your business.’ She flung herself down on the bed and ruined the defiant effect completely by doubling over and coughing. He moved across to her and rubbed her back in gentle wide circles as she hacked away. He could feel her warmth through the thin tee shirt and he tried not to notice that there was no bra strap under it.

A few minutes later she looked up at him with watery eyes and mumbled, ‘Rory, I feel awful.’

He sat down next to her and put his arms around her in the age-old gesture of comfort. He felt no resistance as she leaned into his embrace and he continued to rub gently up and down her back. ‘I know, beautiful.’ He gently pushed her back onto the bed so she was lying down and hastily pulled a rug up to cover her long legs. Her eyes closed and she shivered spasmodically. He watched her closely. She really looked sick. He could feel the frequent bouts of shivering, and her skin was burning up. The cough was nasty. He guessed she had the flu with a chest infection on top of it. Looking around him, he felt frustrated. She couldn’t stay here alone like this. In this condition she wasn’t capable of looking after herself and she sure as hell wasn’t going to be making any trips to the supermarket for supplies in a hurry. He stroked her arms gently. She appeared to have gone to sleep.

Quietly he stood and surveyed the scene critically. She hadn’t a lot of possessions, hadn’t bothered to make much of a personal mark on the place. Clean and clutter-free, it looked as if what she had could be thrown together reasonably quickly. An assortment of candles sat arranged on a shelf; he could smell their vanilla fragrance even unlit. Next to them leaned a framed photo of a woman who looked as if she could be Lissa’s sister. There were no other photos. New Zealand, eh? Beautiful mountains there, good for snowboarding. He smiled.

A huge pile of books stood stacked in two towers by the bed and he glanced at a few titles with interest. Novels, biographies and a few travel guides. A map of London was taped to the wall. A toiletries bag stood neatly on the chest of drawers. The suit she’d worn yesterday lay in a crumpled heap on the floor by the wall, which surprised him. That didn’t seem to fit with the way she wore it so creaselessly. He’d thought she’d be fastidious about hanging her clothes up. She must have been feeling terrible when she got in. Frowning, he picked up the skirt and jacket, shook them out a bit and draped them over the back of a chair. He didn’t poke into the wardrobe, feeling as if he was intruding enough.

He spun about quickly; he needed to do something about her. She couldn’t stay here alone. He didn’t know if she had other friends to call on and in any case she was in no condition to get to them. Besides, if he knew her at all, she wouldn’t even if she could. Miss Cool Independence. He did know one thing for sure; she hated admitting a weakness. Well, undoubtedly she’d hate him for what he was about to do, but tough. Sometimes, he figured, you’ve just got to lie back and let others help you. He grabbed the keys lying on the table and, flipping open his cell phone, strode out of the flat.

She never wanted to wake up. The dream seemed so real and lovely. She floated in a state of bliss. Soft, comfortable, secure. But it hadn’t started that way. Someone had been shining a light in her eyes and from a distance she’d heard an unfamiliar voice asking questions, annoying questions that tried to rouse her, made her feel as if she’d been taken hostage by the Spanish Inquisition and she just wanted whoever it was to go away. Then she’d been hot, so hot and dreadfully thirsty. Her mouth had been too dry to be able to swallow and her lips were cracking. Then he’d appeared. He’d cradled her and helped her drink something cool and refreshing. Then he’d moved away and she’d felt so bereft and so alone. She’d called to him. Asked him not to go.

‘Not going anywhere, beautiful.’

She’d rested back against him, smiling, her irritated skin feeling soothed against something smooth and soft. At last she’d slept, cocooned in arms that were tender and strong.

She opened her eyes and blinked at the wall lazily. At least her eyeballs didn’t hurt quite as much as they had last time she’d used them. When was that? It felt like hours ago. She came to with a rush. Rory. Rory had turned up on her doorstep. She lifted her head off the pillow and looked around her. Where was he now? Wait a second—where was she? She stared at the totally unfamiliar room. There was a snowboard leaning up against the wall and a couple of boxes stacked beside it. The curtains were pulled but she could see a chink of pale light through the gap. What time was it?

Then she became aware of regular breathing near her and she turned her head, rolling over onto her back to look properly. Rory, clad in jeans and a tee shirt, was lying on his side beside her, sound asleep. Her heart stopped in her mouth as surprise came and went in a flash. Fascination took hold. She had never seen him so vulnerable. Until now she’d only seen him in suits or corporate casual wear and even though he had that easy charm he always exuded self-assurance, a commanding style. Now, just in jeans and tee, he looked younger, a little less like the boss and more like a sporty hunk. She studied his mouth, the fuller lower lip that curved into such a devastating smile when he was awake. She took in the long dark lashes resting on his cheek, a hint of a shadow on his jaw. Her fingers itched to rub against it. He looked relaxed. It was incredibly appealing.

She really hoped she hadn’t got some form of selective amnesia and was unable to remember what should have been the most awesome sex of her life. She wriggled a little experimentally. While her body ached, it wasn’t the kind of ache you got after a night of passionate love-making. And he was lying on top of the bed fully clothed. No, somehow she’d got to his place and he’d looked after her. She remembered her dream, and knew him helping her drink had been real. Guilty pleasure swamped her. She shouldn’t be here, this shouldn’t have happened, and yet she was so pleased it had. She glanced around the room again with more interest now she knew it was his. There wasn’t a lot to make it personal—just the snowboard hinting at athletic pastimes and boxes signalling the recent return from his time overseas. The walls were painted a warm creamy colour and she wondered what the rest of the place was like.

Then she looked under the bedclothes and made a shocking discovery.

‘What am I wearing?’ she screeched.

Rory jerked awake. ‘What?’

She watched as alertness sprang into his features and repeated the question.

He frowned as her words sank in. ‘Oh,’ he mumbled. Then as she watched, amazed, an embarrassed flush mounted in his cheeks. ‘You were h-h-hot and sweating.’ He was actually stammering. He cleared his throat. ‘You said the cotton was too rough on your skin. You were aching. You were complaining about the sheets too.’

‘I what?’ Oh, dear God. She was mortified. She remembered feeling hot and uncomfortable. She must have been feverish. What else had she been muttering while in that delirium? She masked her embarrassment with aggression. ‘So what—you just happen to have a selection of silk negligees for whoever comes to stay? I assume this is your, your…’

‘Spare bedroom. Yes.’ He looked directly at her. The flush had receded. ‘And, no, I went and bought it especially for you. In fact—’ his eyes gleamed ‘—I bought two.’

Her mouth hung open for a second before she remembered herself and snapped it shut. She said nothing, absorbing the fact that she was wearing nothing, nothing, other than a simple, long silk negligee. No lace, no knickers. ‘Did I get changed myself?’

He started to colour again and looked away.

‘I didn’t think so,’ she muttered darkly. Then a coughing fit took over.

‘Hey, you’re OK here.’ His low comment did nothing to soothe her.

She sat up sharply, knowing damn well she wasn’t, and the room spun horribly. She wasn’t OK and it wasn’t the flu bugging her.

‘Take it easy,’ he said, pushing her back down with a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder. ‘You’ve been very sick and you haven’t eaten in days.’ His hand lingered. His warm fingers on her bare skin were heavenly. She realised she was hungry. And not just for food.

‘What time is it?’ she asked abruptly.

He checked his watch. ‘Seven p.m. Saturday.’

‘You mean Friday.’

‘No, I mean Saturday. You’ve been out of it for over twenty-four hours. You’ve had me damn worried. But I think half of it was just exhaustion. Once the fever broke, you slept like a child.’

Saturday.

‘You want to use the phone at all? Will anyone be wondering where you are?’

She ignored the question in his eyes and simply shook her head. No, if friends called they’d probably think she was out with someone else.

He seemed to have forgotten his hand still rested on her shoulder, his thumb smoothing over her skin. The touch did crazy things to her insides. She shivered and this time it wasn’t the fever causing it.

He frowned. ‘You lie still and just relax. I’m going to get some food.’

He slid off the bed and she felt sorry as the warmth and weight of him disappeared. She cringed at the hazy memory of begging him to stay with her. What else had she let slip? But she couldn’t stop watching him leave the room, his butt shown off beautifully in the low-slung jeans.

She bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling. She was in trouble here. Big trouble. The question was, did she get up and try to go home now, or did she just give in and let the inevitable happen? She tried sitting up again and slumped back in a hurry. The inevitable. No contest.

He reappeared twenty minutes later bearing a tray that, she had to admit, smelt heavenly.

This time, she discovered, she was able to sit up no problem at all. She propped the pillow up behind her. He carefully placed the tray across her knees and smiled. Her heart thumped slowly and she tried to ignore the tenderness in his actions.

‘This is great.’ She gazed in pleasure on the laden tray before her. In the centre was a bowl of rich red soup accompanied by a plate of fingers of buttered toast. A smaller bowl of freshly cut fruit was also on the tray; it included, of all things, raspberries. She was in heaven. She picked up the glass of juice on the side and tasted. Pineapple. How did this guy know all her favourites? The question must have been written all over her face.

‘You were begging for it last night.’ He grinned. ‘I had to go to the twenty-four-hour shop to get it.’

‘Thank you.’ She put the glass down, having drained half of it. She felt bad for having reacted so ungratefully before. ‘I’ve put you to a lot of trouble.’

‘No trouble,’ he said easily. ‘Eat your soup—roasted red pepper.’

She didn’t need to be told twice. But while she was hungry, she wasn’t hungry for a huge amount of anything much and this platter was exactly what she would have chosen herself. ‘What about you?’ she asked between mouthfuls.