It wasn’t the warmest of greetings.
‘I just was just admiring the view. Across the lake,’ she added hurriedly, in case he might have thought he was the view.
‘Have you eaten?’ Pulling the boat towards him, he leant in to retrieve two carrier bags before turning to face her, one in each hand.
‘Um, no—not yet.’ Lottie stared back at him. Everything about his cold stance suggested that this was a purely practical question rather than a cordial invitation.
‘Well, there’s plenty of food here.’ He shook the bags in his hands. ‘I’m going to have to work this evening, so I’ll just get a sandwich, but you should make yourself a proper meal.’
‘Right.’ His uncompromising tone left no room for negotiation, but still Lottie tried. ‘If I’m cooking I might as well make something for you too.’
‘No, thanks. Like I say, I will just grab a sandwich.’
‘Fine.’ If he was going to be like that then so be it.
For a moment the two of them faced each other, the moonlight illuminating their profiles, only the slapping sound of the water breaking the silence. Lottie had prepared herself for some awkwardness, but this was more like hostility. She realised that all her fears were founded. She hadn’t been mistaken about that look on his face last night. He really did find her repugnant. Up until now she had thought that last night was just a mistake—something that should never have happened. Now she saw it for what it really was—a hideous betrayal, an abhorrent debacle that shamed her to the core.
And everything about the cold, arrogant temperament of the man standing before her now made it quite plain that he thought the same.
Turning away from him, she started to ascend the flight of steps back up to the terrace, furious with herself when hot tears of self-pity started to roll down cheeks already burning with shame and humiliation. She could hear him behind her, taking the steps two at a time, the carrier bags rustling in his hands.
‘Lottie, wait.’ Catching up, he dropped the bags, putting a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to stop her getting away. ‘About last night...’
‘Forget it, Rafael.’ Shaking him off, she continued to march up the steps, determined that he wasn’t going to see her tears. There was certainly no way she was going to talk about it, listen to him telling her that it had been a mistake or, worse still, that he was sorry. That was more than she could bear.
With each step her shame and despair was joined by temper and then anger, until by the time she reached the top she was seething—so much so that she stumbled, falling forward in an ungainly half-trip, half-run that made her heart hammer in her chest.
‘Lottie!’ A second after his call he was beside her. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I am fine.’ Drawing herself upright, Lottie struggled to regain her balance before she marched off up the terrace path, her defiant words rippling in her wake. ‘You really don’t need to worry about me.’
* * *
Rafael was unpacking the groceries in the kitchen when he realised that Lottie was watching him from the doorway. He looked up quickly, registering the flush of her cheeks, the halo of hair, full of static from the woollen jumper she had just pulled over her head, the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the tight fabric of the tee shirt beneath. She looked both sexy and vulnerable. But, more than that, she looked as if she was fighting to hold in a lot of things she was desperate to say.
‘I’ll be out of your way in a minute.’
This produced nothing more than a shrug of her shoulders.
‘I’ve bought some prosciutto and fresh pasta, and there are plenty of vegetables or salad if you would prefer.’ He shut the fridge door and leant against it.
‘Thanks.’
She had swept into the room now and brushed past him to fill the kettle. The air was full of the floral scent of hostility.
‘Look, Lottie, if this is about last night...’
‘Last night?’ She flashed him a contemptuous stare. ‘Did anything happen last night?’
‘There is no point in being childish.’
His patience was wearing thin now. He was tired from lack of sleep and the long and tedious telephone conference that he had had to take away from the villa because of her. He was hungry, and he was furious with himself for letting last night happen.
‘I think we have to acknowledge the foolishness of what we did and ensure that we don’t find ourselves in that position again.’
The ice in Lottie’s cold blue eyes almost froze the words in his throat.
‘I’m sure we both regret it now.’
He certainly did. Even though he had been twitching to make love to Lottie for weeks now. Even though every little thing she said or did set him off, and even though there had been countless times when he had wanted to pull her to him, feel the luscious softness of her against him, rip off her clothes, claim her naked body for his own—any or all of the above. But he had been convinced he could handle his infatuation, he really had. A master of control, it was inconceivable that he would give in to his weakness.