Ice formed in Winnie’s chest. Vincent wasn’t trying to cause trouble. He seemed genuinely concerned.
She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. And her feet were glued to the floor.
Vincent stared into the empty fireplace, his gnarled hands gripping the chair arms. “The others think just because they’re all happy as clams, that Larkin will follow suit. But they’re wrong. He’s got demons in him that keep him isolated from the pack. We rarely see him. So don’t let him break your heart, Ms. Bellamy.”
Winnie jerked open the door and ran. Lunch no longer had any appeal. She fled down the main hallway, and headed for the stairs that led up to her room. But before she made it to safety, Larkin came strolling around the corner.
He froze when they met, his eyes darting behind her, assessing, drawing conclusions. “Where have you been?” he asked, his voice harsh with suspicion.
She inhaled sharply, not accustomed to lying. “Your father asked me into his office so he could get to know me.”
“I doubt that. The old guy likes causing problems.”
“Well, he didn’t.”
“What did he tell you?”
“Nothing, Larkin. He was surprised you had brought me here, and I told him we were just friends.”
“You can say that with a straight face after last night?”
“Last night we were curious and we scratched an itch.” It was more for her—so much more. But that was irrelevant.
Larkin’s jaw tightened and his eyes flashed. “Come with me.”
Fifteen
Larkin took her wrist and pulled her into the nearby library. He closed the door and locked it for good measure. “What in the hell did he say to you?” His father had long ago given up the right to meddle in Larkin’s affairs. And the old man had no business messing with Winnie’s head.
She faced him, arms crossed over her chest. “What happened between you and me last night had nothing to do with your father. You were curious…so was I. About a spark we both felt. Now we’ve dealt with it.”
He deliberately closed the distance between them and wanted to punch something when Winnie backed away. “Believe me, Winnie,” he growled. “Last night only scratched the surface.” Even arguing with her, he was so aroused, he could take her there on the desk.
Her jaw wobbled, and her eyes were damp. “I gave it my best shot. And you seemed to enjoy it. But that’s all I’ve got. I’m not good at sex. I have no natural aptitude and no repertoire of fancy tricks to keep a man interested. Besides, I’ll only be here for a little while and then we’ll go on with our separate lives. The sex was meaningless.”
He gaped at her, slack-jawed. “That speech has so many holes in it, I don’t know where to start.”
“Then don’t. You know I’m right.”
“I sure as hell do not.” He was shouting, and he didn’t mean to be. Winnie stood there in her rich-girl clothes looking pale and determined and painfully vulnerable.
He clenched his fists, lowering his voice to a more civilized level. “I don’t know where you got the idea you weren’t good at sex, but that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say. You don’t have to know thirty-one positions and how to practice tantric sex in order to make me happy…hell, to make any man happy. You’re smart and driven and incredibly generous. Not to mention that when you smile, my knees go weak.”