His Suitable Bride(58)

She had confessed—it now seemed like years ago—that she loved him. Her love had certainly been of a very passing nature if she could slip into this sexy little number in the expectations of going to bed with another man.

Once his thoughts began travelling down that route, they began to consume every corner of his mind.

‘I really don’t think so, do you?’ he said, dropping his hands and turning away, because he knew his weakness with her and it was lust. He didn’t want to have even the smallest glimpse of that exquisite body.

His abrupt withdrawal was like a bucket of freezing water thrown over her. Cristina looked at that erect back which smacked of cold dismissal with a sinking heart, then she quickly, with shame, pulled her dress up. She couldn’t reach behind her to do up the zipper, not without a minor struggle, and she was heavily conscious of it gaping open behind like a mocking reminder of her willingness to drop all her fast-held principles at a single touch.

‘I don’t know why I was worried about Goodman taking advantage of you in your dazzling new finery …’ He swung round to look at her with distaste. ‘You obviously more than know where the revealing outfits are going to take you. God knows, you’ve probably got the contraceptives in readiness on the bedroom table.’

Cristina, hurt, angry and now feeling manipulated, raised her hand without thinking and hit him hard across the face. She looked in horror first at the stinging palm of her hand, and then at his cheek as the imprint of her fingers slowly formed a red stain across the side of his face. The apology died on her lips when she saw his expression. He was looking at her as if she were something that had crawled out from underneath a rock. He had never looked at her like that, not even when she had handed him back his engagement ring.

‘That’s … that’s a horrible thing to say,’ she whispered, but he was already turning away, heading for the door.

She had an insane desire to tug at his shirt and make him stay rather than watch him walk away and leave in his wake this great, ugly pool of bitterness and misunderstanding. Had he kissed her as some kind of trick? she wondered feverishly. Had he thought that she had turned over some kind of new leaf, become cheap and easy, the sort of girl who would wear a sexy dress, invite a man back to her apartment and spend the night with him? The sort of girl she had never been and never could be?

She flew behind him and finally, when he was putting on his jacket, she did clutch his arm. Hopefully she didn’t appear too desperate but she wouldn’t have put money on that.

‘Please don’t go. Not like this.’

Rafael stopped to look coldly at her. ‘Not like what?’

‘James was just a date! I wasn’t going to … I’m not like that! Why did you kiss me?’ She had to know.

‘You would have fallen into bed with me.’

‘Because you know how I feel about you. I know it would have been a big mistake, but did you just kiss me because you wanted to prove that you could? Were you jealous of James?’

‘Me? Jealous of Goodman?’ The mere fact that she had reminded him of a feeling he had no time for, a feeling which was for losers who didn’t mind feeling vulnerable—sad sacks who didn’t mind handing over the reins of control to someone else—was enough to fuel his anger at her.

‘No, of course you wouldn’t be,’ Cristina said in a strained voice. ‘You have Cindy.’ He may have lost control for a split second—maybe he had just wanted to put her to the test, to find out whether she was as lacking in self-control as he seemed to think she was—but he had pulled back out of respect for the wonderful woman he still hadn’t slept with. She wondered how she could ever have felt uplifted at the thought that he hadn’t slept with the blonde. Had she been mad? Was it any wonder that he felt sorry for her? It was easy to feel sorry for the person you’ve left behind when you, yourself, have successfully moved forward with your life.

She hugged herself and stared down at the ground. The high-heeled shoes had been discarded somewhere along the way and, in her stockinged feet, she was as physically disadvantaged as she knew she would be. It was like being in the shadow of a towering volcano. She expected that he was disappointed and disgusted with her. Probably counting his lucky stars that he hadn’t ended up with a woman he now, incorrectly, thought had absolutely no morals. He couldn’t have been more wrong but she didn’t even know where to begin to tell him that. His face was closed and forbidding, and horribly, horribly cold.

‘You shouldn’t have come here tonight,’ she mumbled with heartfelt sincerity.