November Harlequin Presents 1(151)

‘So what are we going to talk about?’

Andreas took a sip from his coffee, stared down into the mug as if looking for inspiration in the dark liquid. The movement made Becca realise that, like her, he had snatched the time to have a fast shower before coming downstairs, his hair was still soaking too. But, unlike hers, the wet look flattered him, giving the blue-black strands a glistening sheen and a slightly spiky look that suited him, while her own heavily flattened, sodden rats’ tails had quite the opposite effect.

‘Why don’t we start with you telling me just what was so important to you that you were prepared to sell yourself to get it?’

Becca was glad that she was sitting down. She felt sure that her legs would have gone from under her if she hadn’t, with the cutting force of his attack. But even though she was sitting, she still clung onto the back of the settee for extra support.

‘I didn’t—I wasn’t—I didn’t!’

‘Oh, so what are you claiming—that you didn’t have sex with me just now, in that bed…?’

An arrogant tilt of his dark head in the direction of the ceiling and so the bedroom above them emphasised his point.

‘I—you know I did.’

Did he have to keep saying ‘have sex’ in that brutal way? It reminded her too painfully of his cold-blooded declaration that he had married her for sex and nothing more.

‘So you must have wanted to use that sex to get something from me.’

‘No! No way! I never—I wouldn’t…’

‘Wouldn’t you? Well, you do surprise me. So that leaves only one other possible alternative, and I have to say that I really never thought that you’d admit to that.’

‘I’m not admitting to anything,’ Becca growled. ‘And what is the only other possible alternative?’

Andreas flashed her a wide, deceptively innocent look from huge, brilliant jet-black eyes.

‘Why, the fact that you were so overcome with need—with passion for me—that you just couldn’t help yourself. That nothing else in the world mattered but that we should come together in bed…’

‘It wasn’t that!’

‘No? Then—to go back to my original interpretation of your actions—you were using sex to get something from me.’

‘I wasn’t—no! I didn’t!’

‘Oh, please, Rebecca!’ Andreas exclaimed in exasperation. Coming to the table, he slammed his mug down on it with such force that some of the coffee slopped over the side.

‘Credit me with a little intelligence. It’s either one thing or the other. What other possible explanation could there be?’

The fact that she was head over heels in love with him, crazy about him in a way that made her a fool to herself, weakened all her defences and left her totally vulnerable where he was concerned. That she hadn’t been able to say no to the thought of being with him just one last time.

‘A mad moment?’ she said flippantly, trying desperately to distract him from the way that he was thinking. ‘After all, we were always good—great together that way. You said it yourself—no one ever made you as hot as I do.’

The way his black brows drew together in a dark frown alerted her to the fact that she’d said something he didn’t like. And she winced inwardly as she realised just what it was.

He’d flung those exact words at her in the appalling row on the day of their marriage, destroying all her hopes and dreams in one blow.

I married you for sex—for that and nothing else. No other woman has ever made me feel as hot as you do.

‘A mad moment, hmm…’

He had come too close. If she was not careful, then surely he would see the truth in her face, read it at the backs of her eyes.

‘Mad, certainly, but not totally crazy.’

Andreas flung himself down into the chair opposite and sprawled back against the cushions, long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, elbows resting on the chair arms, long fingers steepled together under his chin.

‘Which is what you’d have to be to have come here just for that.’

His brilliant black gaze seemed to sear into her skull, trying to pull out the truth whether she was prepared to give it to him or not.

‘My, you do think a lot of yourself, don’t you?’ Becca used defiance to try to hide the way she was really feeling. ‘Do you really think that I’d travel all this way just for a quick tumble into bed with you?’

‘No.’

Andreas’ wickedly slow smile told her how easily she had fallen into the trap he had dug right at her feet. ‘I really do not think that—which is why I keep asking the question that you seem to want to go to any lengths possible to avoid. You’re not drinking your coffee,’ he added in a way that sounded like an afterthought but which left Becca very much afraid that he knew exactly why she wasn’t drinking.