Eve wished she were surer of her own motives but she had a feeling that at some level her impulsive choice to stay had more to do with her hormones than any practical reasons.
The memory of the hunger that had devoured her when they had kissed terrified her, but it also drew her and she had a horrible feeling that he knew it.
His attitude had been take it or leave it, but underneath all that did he think they’d end up sharing a bed tonight?
Do you, Eve?
She pushed away the thought. ‘I just thought that someone might be waiting up for you?’
The idea seemed to amuse him. ‘We have no live-in servants.’
‘So nobody like my mother, you mean?’ she fired back.
‘Like…?’ he echoed with a shrug. ‘I don’t know your mother and I wouldn’t dream of judging anyone by what they do.’
She flushed at the reprimand. ‘Well, that makes you unique, or maybe you like to think of yourself as egalitarian but if your daughter announced she was marrying the boy who stacks the shelves in the local supermarket you wouldn’t be so tolerant, I suspect.’
‘My daughter is thirteen. I wouldn’t be happy if she said she was marrying Prince Harry. I’m curious—are you really such a cynic or is it that chip on your pretty shoulder showing again?’ As he spoke he opened a panelled door to his right and after a short angry pause she accepted the silent invitation and walked past him.
The room they entered was not enormous. There was an original Adam fireplace filled with unlit candles, some nice artwork on the walls, and the furniture was an eclectic mix of expensive modern pieces and original Georgian antiques.
It was simple and uncomplicated, unlike the man who lived here.
Her covert gaze slid to Draco, who had walked straight over to a bureau and pulled out a bottle and a glass.
‘I like to keep it simple. Mrs Ellis, the housekeeper, is full time, but she doesn’t live in and she oversees the girls who come in, and my driver is—’
‘I get the picture—simple.’
He poured himself a second finger of brandy and downed it in one gulp. ‘Sorry, nightcap?’
She nodded. ‘Please, thank you. You have a beautiful home. Have you lived here long?’
‘Since last year. Before that I split my time pretty much fifty, fifty between here and Italy, but my sister’s married a Brit and her daughter, Kate, is Josie’s age. When I was looking for a school for Josie she recommended the one Kate attends.’ He arched a brow. ‘You don’t want to know any of that, do you? What you’re really thinking is, is he going to make a pass at me?’
She flushed to the roots of her hair and took a large sip of the brandy.
‘Whereas I’m standing here thinking, is she going to make a pass at me?’
Her squeaked protest drew his lazy grin. ‘You see—it’s not so nice to have someone look at you as though they expect you to leap on them any minute, is it?’
She held the glass in both hands and looked at him over the rim. Her eyes watered as the brandy stung her throat and pooled with a warm glow in her stomach. ‘You have a very weird mind.’