He slammed the heel of his palm into his forehead with a brutal thumping sound that made her flinch inside.
‘That’s what I can’t forget.’
‘Oh, don’t—please don’t. Can’t you see that this is why it has to be this way—because you can’t take the risk?’
‘You mean you can’t—’
‘No—you!’
Shaking her head violently, Becca took a single involuntary step towards him, then the look in his eyes, the dangerous way they flashed made her reconsider hastily. Abruptly she came to a halt again, only metres away from him, but the expanse of polished wooden floor now seemed like a wide, gaping chasm, one she knew they could never really ever bridge.
‘You’re the one who has the most to lose here if we—if we…’
‘Lose?’
His harsh crack of laughter had no humour in it.
‘From where I’m standing, I get what I want. The only thing that’s interested me—excited me—since I woke up from that damn coma.’
‘The only…’ Becca whispered, unable to believe what she had heard. ‘Me?’
‘You,’ Andreas confirmed roughly, with a brusque inclination of his head. ‘Who did you think I meant? I was talking about excitement and pleasure—passion—something that makes life seem like it’s worth living after all and not just the huge empty space where my mind—my memories—used to be. And you—you say we have to be sensible.’
He spat the word out as if it was a vile epithet.
Twice Becca opened her mouth, trying to find an answer for him, and both times her voice failed her, managing only a pathetic squeak that didn’t even form a syllable, never mind a whole word.
Go to him, the irrational, emotional part of her brain was screaming. Go to him and accept what he’s offering—while he’s offering it. You want that excitement—you need that passion—you could enjoy—oh, dear God, more than enjoy—that pleasure. What are you doing, standing here when…?
‘But we do.’
Becca couldn’t believe she’d actually said what she had. Until she’d actually heard the words spoken out loud she had no idea that she had even planned to say them. She certainly hadn’t thought about them rationally. She didn’t even want to say them. But she had to. There was no other way to handle this.
‘We do have to be sensible. At least you do.’
‘Don’t hide behind excuses. For some reason you won’t admit, you’re scared and you’re trying to run…’
‘Oh, no. No, I’m not.’
At least this time her voice had the conviction of truth. She couldn’t run away. If she did she would let Macy and Daisy down. She saw Andreas’ proud head go back, his eyes narrowing assessingly.
‘You don’t know what might have happened in your life—what you might…might find out when your memory comes back. Things that could change the way you feel about everything.’
‘About you?’
Andreas’ tone was sceptical.
‘I doubt very much that anything could change the way I’m feeling—the hunger that’s eating me up inside.’
It was purely a physical hunger—a sexual hunger—that he was talking about, Becca reminded herself miserably. There was nothing emotional about it at all. And he probably spoke the truth. Nothing had ever lessened the savage desire he had always had for her. Even when he had hated her most, he had still wanted her. The first and last thing he had done in their short-lived marriage had been to take her to bed.
But she knew just how much things would change if—when—he knew the truth about the way their relationship had ended. And she couldn’t bear to think of what might happen then.
‘Then—then what harm can it do to wait? You know what they say about anticipation adding to the pleasure…’
‘On that point, you might be right.’
‘You know I am.’
She didn’t know quite how she’d done it, but somehow she’d managed to put a flirtatious note into her voice. And as she saw Andreas’ expression change, the dark tension easing from his face, his eyes, she didn’t know whether to feel relief or a terrible sense of fear at the thought of what she was building up for herself in the future. She might be able to persuade him now, to make him ease up, relax a little. But when his memory returned and he found out the truth, then…
Her blood turned cold at just the thought.
But she had no other possible route she could take. If she was to help Daisy at all, she had to do it this way. It was either that or leave the tiny girl to die. And that wasn’t going to happen, not if she could possibly do anything to stop it. She would do whatever she had to do now, and take the consequences later when, inevitably, it all blew up in her face.