‘James,’ Cristina mumbled. ‘Actually, I met him at your party last weekend.’
Rafael knitted his brows together in a frown and then raised his eyebrows in amused disbelief. ‘Not Goodman.’
‘As a matter of fact, yes.’ She accepted the glass of wine and thought of the blonde at the party, at which point she tried to look suitably gutted that she wasn’t going to be seeing James as planned.
There was a long and seemingly significant silence, and she reluctantly said, ‘Why?’ even though she could tell from that look on his face that that was precisely the question he had been waiting for.
‘I thought that might be the case,’ Rafael acknowledged, draining his glass and then leaning against the counter so that he could pin her down with his silvered gaze. ‘Call it a gut feeling.’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘I must have a highly developed telepathic side,’ he mused. ‘Because I got to thinking about you at the party, and I realised that I should probably come over and at least warn you that, if you’re thinking of finding Mr Right in the shape of Goodman, then you’re barking up the wrong tree.’
Cristina flushed and folded her arms. Come over? Warn her? Was she some sort of charity case? This confirmed everything she had been thinking. He had felt sorry for her and so had invited her to his little party, and he now not only felt sorry for her but he had also decided that she was somehow incapable of looking after herself.
‘Did you know that James would get in touch with me?’ she asked tightly.
Rafael was quick to deny any such thing. He suffered not the slightest tug of his conscience in doing so, because he could now see that she really was in need of his advice. He had tried to tell her that her suddenly revised dress code was not such a good idea, and as he could now see, she was in dire need of a few more words of caution.
‘I use him as an example,’ he said, oozing well-intentioned concern. ‘He’s typical of how a man will react in the presence of a woman who has her sexuality stamped all over her in neon lettering.’
Cristina was torn between feeling treacherously flattered that he’d thought her sexy and pure outrage that he’d had the cheek to swan over to her house to continue his silly preaching at her.
‘I don’t need you to give me a lecture on men,’ she muttered, staring down at the pointed tips of her high-heeled shoes, very glad she had decided to stick them on—even though she could feel the beginnings of a blister on her right heel, and would have liked nothing more than to kick them off and slip into her comfortable bedroom slippers.
‘Not if your intention is to work your way through a series of Mr Wrongs before you hit upon Mr Right.’ He was in front of her practically before Cristina had time to raise startled eyes and take the necessary evasive action. Of course she should never have let him into her apartment, she had only herself to blame for the mortifying discomfort into which she was now plunged. But the minute Rafael spoke, every good-intentioned bone in her body turned to water. She had heard that deeply, sexy drawl at the end of the line and had melted.
‘How can you preach to me about … about sleeping around?’ she flung back at him defensively. ‘You’ve already got someone else in your life! Or was that Cindy woman just a good friend?’
‘We’re not talking about me. I’m fully capable of handling myself.’
‘I know that. It’s the women you handle yourself with that are the ones in need of the sympathy vote.’
Why was she defending Goodman? Rafael thought savagely. She couldn’t really believe that the man was anything but trouble as far as women were concerned? He was about to make that very point when he realised that she had lumped him into exactly the same category. It was a thought that was frankly outrageous, considering he had proposed marriage to her!
‘Whatever impression you may have had,’ he said, his brilliant eyes fixed on her downturned face, ‘Cindy and I were never lovers.’
Cristina knew that it was foolish to be gladdened by that piece of information. It took nothing away from the fact that he had seen her as a convenience in his life rather than the driving love of it. They still stood at opposite sides of an unbreachable chasm. Nevertheless, she couldn’t prevent a flood of pure happiness from pouring through her, and she decided that it was just nice to know that she hadn’t been so instantly forgotten.
‘Goodman has a reputation,’ Rafael told her abruptly. ‘And, yes, I know you’re probably tarring me with the same brush, but you have yet to know James.’