‘I would call it your mother combined with an unexpected snowstorm!’
‘Do you know that you’re the first woman I’ve ever slept with?’ Pierre hadn’t meant to confess to that. He surprised himself.
‘Oh, please. You must think I was born yesterday if you imagine that I could actually believe that—’
‘What’s so unbelievable about it?’
‘Pierre Christophe Newman has never slept with a woman…? Ha, ha. That’s like saying that Casanova actually did embroidery in his spare time!’
‘Is that what you think I am? A Casanova?’
Georgie’s breath caught in her throat. Even in the darkness of the bedroom, there was no mistaking his sheer beauty, that animal magnetism that he unconsciously radiated in waves. There was also no mistaking the fact that her nerves were everywhere as the intimacy of their situation impacted. She could feel her body tingling all over, from her face to her breasts to the very essence of her.
‘I think it’s time we tried to grab a bit more sleep or…or maybe I could see what the snow’s doing…drive back home…it’s probably cleared by now…’
‘Don’t be farcical,’ Pierre said with squashing practicality. ‘What’s Didi going to think when she emerges from bed to find that you’ve disappeared into the snow at the crack of dawn? Besides, we’re supposed to be a hot item—the least we could do is make conversation.’
‘In bed?’
‘I happen to find bed a very relaxing place and, to clarify what I meant about having never slept with a woman, I meant spent the night in the same bed.’
‘You’ve never spent the night with a woman?’ Georgie asked incredulously. Okay, she knew that curiosity killed the cat but she just couldn’t help herself.
The ploy successfully distracted her and he could sense her relax as she stopped thinking about the intimacy of their situation, which she minded but he rather thought he didn’t. ‘No need to sound so stupefied,’ Pierre told her but, seeing it from her point of view, it was a little mysterious.#p#分页标题#e##p#分页标题#e#
‘How come?’
‘Have you ever spent the night with a man?’
‘We’re not talking about me and I’m not a…a…’
‘Casanova?’ He felt her discomfort. This was invigorating. ‘I don’t like waking up next to a woman.’
‘You mean just in case it gives them crazy ideas of permanence?’ Georgie asked shrewdly.
Pierre stiffened. ‘Do I hear a lecture on its way?’
‘It’s too early for lectures but, yes, if it had been a little later, there would have been a lecture.’
Pierre wondered what book she had studied on the Art of Seducing Men, where surely rule one would have been Think before you speak, but then she wasn’t in the business of seducing him, was she? In fact, she was in the business of avoiding him as much as was humanly possible given the circumstances. ‘I keep irregular hours when it comes to my work,’ he perversely felt the need to elaborate. ‘Makes sense not to have someone else to think about when I’m climbing out of bed at three in the morning to make a long-distance conference call to the other side of the world.’ No response. ‘Women tend to dislike awakening to the peal of the telephone and the lights being switched on at ridiculous hours in the morning.’ Still no response and her silence had a judgemental tone that was really beginning to get on his nerves. ‘And maybe you’re right,’ he ground out bad-temperedly. ‘Maybe I don’t want some woman thinking that a night in my bed is the start of something long-term.’
Georgie grunted with what he considered a lot of smug satisfaction.
‘Anyway, now that we’re on the road of discovery, have you ever spent the night with a man?’
‘Of course I have.’
Pierre was unnaturally shocked by that admission. She was the tomboy who had grown up into a ditzy woman who taught young kids and kept chickens! Where did sleeping around figure in this scenario? Furthermore, night life was sorely lacking in this particular part of the world. Where on earth would she have rummaged up an eligible male?
Not that she wasn’t pretty in her own way, he considered. Some men might even find that blonde, fly-away hair and those huge green eyes quite attractive. Less so her habit of acting first and thinking later, but, then again, who knew? Impulsive might appeal to some kind of men. The backpacking, camping-site sort probably. The ones who woke up on a sunny Friday, decided that the skies were blue and thought nothing of calling in sick so that they could head out for a bracing walk on some remote Devon path somewhere.