Kept by the Spanish Billionaire(59)

Rafael curled his fingers round her wrist and pulled her hand down to his side. ‘Before what?’

‘Before I…talked to you,’ Amy said on a sigh. She did look at him now. ‘I didn’t realise how keen you were on your ex-girlfriend. Actually, when you described her, I could see that she was a woman perfectly suited to you. She even kind of looks like you! Tall and composed and dark-haired. But more important than that, she thinks like you. I bet she actually understands when you start talking about the World Economy!’ This had been a small joke between them, the fact that she knew so little about how world finances worked. At the time she had been amused that he would take such an interest in something so far removed from gardening as economics and had cheerfully believed him when he had told her that that was precisely why he found it so interesting. ‘I bet she doesn’t yawn and her eyes don’t glaze over when you start trying to make her understand that money markets actually make sense!’

Rafael grunted his agreement with this observation. If his ego had been dented by her refusal all those weeks ago, he should have been feeling pleasantly vindicated by her standing in front of him, eyes wide, happily prostrating herself for his benefit. Well, he was, he decided. He still had his fingers curled around her wrist. She had thin wrists. In fact, he could probably circle her upper arm if he wanted to.

‘If you’d been seeing someone…you obviously didn’t admire so much…who wasn’t so suited to you…’ She sighed heavily and chewed her lip.

‘You would have tried to steal me away?’

‘Not to the land of commitment,’ Amy said quickly. ‘I know we’re not really on the same wavelength, but you were right…maybe it would have been better not to have this feeling of unfinished business between us. Not,’ she amended hastily, just in case he thought that she was still going to pursue him, like some kind of lunatic stalker, ‘that that applies to you. You’ve found the woman of your dreams and, honestly, Rafael, I wish you all the best.’

She stood on tiptoe and placed the palms of her hands squarely on his chest. Just one peck on his cheek. A friendly, supportive kiss. Just something to show him that she was a good loser, even if it hurt like hell.

Rafael tensed at the casual touch. Up close, the smell of her was insinuating, that light, clean, flowery smell, which surely must have been aided and abetted by some sort of perfume. He was unaware of himself automatically reaching to cup her elbows and steady her, unaware of looking down to her soft face and hardly conscious at all of capturing her mouth with his, turning the friendly peck on the cheek into a light kiss that deepened, and deepened until it drove every sane thought out of his head.

He came to his senses abruptly. Amy, still absorbed in the wonder of kissing him, felt him stiffen and pull away and, of course, so did she.

‘Don’t say anything, Rafael.’ She drew back and stuck her hand out to hail a cab. It was still very busy on the roads. Surely an empty one would cruise up to her and spare her the indignity of drawing out this uncomfortable little scene.

Luck was with her. ‘We kissed and I’m glad we did, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t wish you happiness because I do. Everyone deserves a suitable partner and you’ve found yours.’ She rattled off the sentence and neatly finished just in time to fling open the door of the cab and slip inside. He had no time to say anything and Amy was very pleased about that because she didn’t want to hear him berate himself for having done something he shouldn’t have done, or, worse, try and lay the blame at her door.

Once again she was leaving and once again she wasn’t going to look back.#p#分页标题#e#





CHAPTER TEN




FROM the bottom of his glass, Rafael slowly and inexorably worked out what had been happening to him. He had opened the bottle of whisky intending to drown his restless, frustrated energy the good, old fashioned way, but in all events had ended up having just the one glass.

The house still had the detritus of Elizabeth’s rapid departure the day before. From where he sat in the kitchen, there were still pots and pans in the sink, waiting to be washed. If he looked in the fridge, he knew he would find an assortment of healthy-eating options and cartons of freshly squeezed orange juice. There was a time when he had appreciated her discipline when it came to her diet. He didn’t know what had possessed him to think that, having become bored with it all, he might retrieve his original feelings once again. Had he thought that England would revitalise their relationship?