Sarah was nothing if not persistent, one of the personality traits he admired about her. They’d been out to dinner a few times and he’d found her witty and driven, with a sense of humour that matched his. One kiss, a brief touch before he’d left on his London trip, and he’d known they would never be lovers. Seeing Anjuli again, being inside her body and feeling her lips on his skin had convinced him that friendship was the only relationship he’d ever have with Sarah.
Thankfully, she hadn’t seemed to mind, and had promptly started dating her editor, Thomas Gray, a man he’d gone to school with. That relationship was over, or so she’d said at the pub. She wanted commitment and a family, and domesticity wasn’t Tom’s idea of a good time.
A sip of coffee scalded his tongue and left an acrid aftertaste in his mouth. Having a son or daughter would probably never be in the cards for him either. Not anymore.
What woman would want to marry him if she knew it was unlikely he’d father bairns of his own, much as he wished it were otherwise? Certainly not Sarah. Her biological clock was ticking and she’d as much as said she wanted babies, marriage optional. He wanted both, but not with her. It wouldn’t be right to give her false hopes, no matter what Ben said about playing the field. Unlike some, he’d never strung anyone along for a good time, and he wasn’t about to start now. Thankfully, Sarah seemed happy with friendship.
Although...the signals she had been sending out tonight seemed to warn she might want more, despite saying she was on a relationship hiatus.
Rob followed Sarah to her sitting room. The modern furniture seemed out of place in the low-ceilinged stone cottage, and her two-seater sofa was as uncomfortable as it looked. She sat next to him, then picked up her pad and pen. “Give me a minute or two to read through my notes.”
Had she pulled down her neckline or had it always been low? He hadn’t noticed at the pub, but he sure as hell hoped seduction wasn’t on her mind. Maybe he was imagining things. Since that mind-fucking night in London he’d lost confidence in his ability to read women’s desires.
Their whims.
But Sarah would never sleep with him and pretend he was another man. Never use him. And as he answered her questions, Rob wished he could feel something more for her than warm affection. Should he try, in spite of his gut feeling to keep their relationship platonic?
Sarah gave him a radiant smile and put down her pad. “Well, that’s another ‘persons of note’ in the Scottish Borders interview sorted. Anjuli Carver is next on my hit list.”
Rob gave her a hard look. “‘Hit list’ is right.”
Sarah raised her hands in surrender. “Like I said when you called, I was sorry the second I filed the piece. Truly, I was. But I couldn’t help writing that article. Someone told me Anjuli Carver was your ex-fiancé, and what she did to you. And there she was, three or four days back in Heaverlock and already trying to make you look bad.”
“She came out worse than I did, thanks to you.”
“I don’t like it when my friends are publically insulted.” She put her hand on his. “My article was a one-off, a forgivable mistake, don’t you think?”
He shouldn’t feel angry on Anjuli’s behalf, shouldn’t want to insist Sarah write a glowing piece to even out the balance. Shouldn’t hate it when he overheard people say Anjuli Carver was a stuck-up bitch who didn’t care about the village enough to sing at the ceilidh. Everybody makes mistakes—hell, he’d made his fair share, and was in no position to judge Sarah for trying to be his friend. He squeezed Sarah’s hand and picked up his coffee mug, but her worried expression didn’t fade.
“You were right, Rob. My article was unprofessional and I truly regret it.”
“You should tell her that.”
Sarah sniffed. “I’m sure Anjuli Carver has had much worse written about her. You should see the dossier Tom’s put together. Pictures, articles...She’s refused his attempts to interview her so many times he’s sure she’s hiding something.”
So was he, but he wanted to take Tom by the throat and squeeze until he agreed to stop prying into Anjuli’s life and leave her alone. And just in case Sarah still thought she needed to defend him...
“Anjuli apologised for what she said,” he said firmly. “It’s forgotten.”
Sarah stiffened. “When did you talk? Tonight? She seemed engrossed in Damien, that charmer.”
Charmer? The man preyed on women, was probably sniffing around Anjuli now, inviting her to bed. Rob looked at his watch and stood up. Eleven-thirty. Had the smooth-talking vet got his way or had Anjuli rebuffed him? Maybe she was still at the pub. He could swing by and have another drink, then get a lift home or walk.