Amy got up the energy to glare but it didn’t last long. ‘At least we Romantics have fun!’
‘If fun is lying on a stranger’s bed at one-thirty in the morning blubbing…’ Rafael said dryly and Amy was forced to concede defeat.
‘Okay. You win. I’m a fool. Maybe next time lucky.’ She gave him a watery grin and it was such a brave pretence of a smile that Rafael found himself reluctantly smiling back. ‘Maybe,’ she mused, ‘next time I won’t fall for the boss…’
CHAPTER THREE
OKAY. Rafael was man enough to admit it to himself the following morning. He was curious. He could only assume that that was what enforced solitude did to a person, because his contact with the outside world, for the past three days, had been limited to telephone conversations or, more often than not, communication via e-mail.
At the time, he had not envisaged this as a problem. Work could be done as easily via computers and fax machines as it could be done face to face and he had made damned sure that he had total access to the outside world thanks to the telephone people who had installed everything he could possibly need for speedy connection to the Internet. At the click of a button he had been able to give his secretary all the instructions she needed to ensure that the numerous tentacles of his highly profitable companies were operating perfectly.
He had even, in the deepest corners of his mind, used the uninvited situation to his own advantage.
He paused for a few seconds, frowning into the distance as he thought about Elizabeth, the eminently suitable Elizabeth, and their very civilised parting. One that he had instigated although, when he thought about it logically, he couldn’t quite understand what had prompted his decision because she was everything he wanted, at least on paper.
He had met her when she had been heading the team of lawyers they had used eight months previously to sort out some complex legal problems on a takeover he had been finalising. He had been impressed, first, by her immense competence and her cool, self-assured manner. Later, by the many things they had in common, ranging from opera to theatre, from jazz music to fine wines.
And to complete the perfect picture, she was just the sort of leggy brunette he favoured, with short, tailored hair and an elegant appreciation of everything cultured.
It had been a little unnerving that his mother had taken an instant dislike to the woman, but Rafael had not allowed that to trouble the very real ideas he had been nurturing about taking the inevitable plunge into matrimony. As arrangements went, it would have been perfect simply because they were so alike in so many ways.#p#分页标题#e#
He wasn’t quite sure when doubts had set in, but eventually the very perfect nature of their relationship had started to feel just a little dull. Three weeks ago he had been visited by an unsettling vision of Elizabeth and himself twenty years down the road, an elegant but essentially boring middle-aged couple still frequenting the opera, having raised their very perfect but essentially boring children to do exactly the same.
He had withdrawn from the relationship and finally broken it off knowing that ten days in the Hamptons, away from any company dos that they might mutually attend, would be beneficial for both of them.
Which brought him back to his curiosity about the creature still lying upstairs in his bed, having fallen asleep on him just when she had revealed the object of her unrequited passion.
He filled a mug with steaming fresh coffee and headed up the stairs, pausing in the doorway to his bedroom so that he could look, dispassionately, at the woman lying on his bed.
Everything about her was in a state of disarray. Her blonde hair was all over the place, the covers had obviously been tossed aside then yanked back on several times during the course of the past few hours and were now half off the bed. One very slim foot hung over one side, affording him the sight of toenails painted a very unconservative shade of purple. Her hands were flung out over her head. A trusting person, he thought absent-mindedly, hence the way she was sleeping on her back. No wonder James had been able to hook her without trying.
‘Time to get up, Sleeping Beauty.’ He strolled over to the curtains and yanked them open so that Amy sat up with an indignant cry, shielding her eyes from the sudden, horrible, intrusive glare.
‘I’ve brought you up some coffee.’ No, he was not going to get into any heart-to-heart conversations about what had happened the night before. He didn’t want to invite any confidences. Never mind the curiosity. ‘And your clothes are all laundered.’
‘There was no need for you to pull open the curtains like that!’ Amy groaned, subsiding back onto the bed and stuffing a pillow over her face.