'Which you did, I suppose?'
He shrugged, and then grinned. 'Yeah, I did. Then I sold them on-two for the price of one.'
'And made a big profit?'
'Huge. Don't look so surprised, Shelley.'
'I can't help the way I look! I suppose you invested the profit?'
He shook his head. 'Not in the conventional sense, no. Houses are about the best and safest investment there are-but not many people have the skills to make the best of them. Fortunately, I do. So I carried on. I bought various properties-one here, one there. One might need an extension, another a new kitchen-a big house might need a granny annexe. I put in loft extensions and conservatories and earned a reputation for sympathetic additions-and that was what did it. If people think you're going to create something which is both well made and beautiful-well, you're onto a winner. I even learned to landscape gardens.'
So he still had that driven work ethic. 'And all the time you were getting a big return on your money?'
'That's right,' he nodded, and rubbed his chin with a thoughtful thumb and forefinger as he watched her reaction. 'When John Cutliffe grew tired of running the Westward, he was very particular about who he sold it to. He wanted someone he knew would love the building. Someone who would preserve and care for it. The oak panelling in the hall badly needed the attention of a carpenter, and that was just for starters. John wanted reassurance that the new owner wasn't going to blitz those exquisite stained-glass windows and put ugly replacements in their place.'
'I can see why he chose you,' she said truthfully.
Suspicion touched the thoughtful features. 'Why, thank you, Shelley,' he murmured. 'Praise from you is always welcome, if a little unexpected.'
Her suspicion matched his. 'But you've obviously spent masses making the Westward look so beautiful. Hasn't that eaten into your profits?'
'What's the matter, kitten? Worried that the coffers have all dried up? That I'm rich in assets, but not in cash?' He pre-empted her indignation with a shake of the honey-tipped head. 'I realised that the place was not being used to its full potential. Milmouth is too far off the map to rely on being fully booked all year round-and I didn't just want to open during the summer season. So we started specialising in celebrations. Weddings are our big thing. But we do birthdays, too, and we hire the house out for corporate use sometimes, if the price is right.' He pulled a face.
'Those aren't my favourites,' he admitted. 'Corpulent businessmen getting drunk and trying to pull the receptionists!'
'Oh,' said Shelley faintly.
'We bought our very own Rolls-Royce, which is driven by our very own chauffeur. Brides like to travel in style,' he grinned. 'Then I hired a chef fresh out of college who has proved inspirational-he was featured in one of the nationals last month. Plus we now have year-round employment for our workers-it doesn't stop when the summer ends.'
'Quite the knight in shining armour, aren't you?' she sniped. 'Do you rob the rich to pay the poor?'
He smiled. 'That was Robin Hood-and he wasn't a knight. I think you're mixing your metaphors, kitten.'
'Gosh, you seem to know something about everything, these days, Drew! And all without the benefits of a university education!'
There wasn't a flicker of response. 'Do I detect a note of bitterness beneath the sarcasm? Perhaps of regret?'
She hoped he couldn't read her lying eyes. 'Regret?' she said lightly, and even managed a disbelieving laugh as she shook her head. 'No.'
'No?' He had moved away from the piano and was standing just in front of her, and Shelley found herself shying back from him, like a nervous horse. 'That's not what your body language is saying to me, Shelley.'
'I don't know very much about body language!'
'Well, I do-'
'So I hear! Especially female body language!'
He stilled. 'Don't talk in code, Shelley,' he said softly. 'Say what you really mean.'
It hurt. That was the stupid, crazy, illogical thing about it. It hurt like mad. 'I gather that women fling themselves at you in locust-like numbers-but that you're very choosy!'
'So?'
She realised that she had run herself into a tight corner. She looked at him. 'I don't know.' She shrugged helplessly.
He looked angry then. No, not just angry.
Seething.
The explosion, when it came, was quiet and deadly. 'Do you really think that you can break off our engagement-'
'You forced me to break it off!'
'-to go swanning off to Italy with your rich lover and live with him for three years-so it doesn't exactly fall in the category of brief fling, does it?-and then come back here and start acting like a betrayed wife-as though you have every right to?'
Some inner need to know and to torture herself made her ask, 'So have you?'
'Have I what? Made love to hundreds of women?' he grated. 'Do you want names and dates while we're on the subject?'
She clapped her hands over her ears, completely forgetting that they had been covering her aching breasts for a reason. 'No!'
'No, that's right!' he agreed roughly, his eyes riveted to the straining swell. 'There's only one thing you want right now, isn't there, Shelley? And you're just crying out for it.' He pulled her into his arms, as she had known he would. Prayed he would …
He dipped his head to speak softly into her ear. 'Like I said, kitten-your body language speaks volumes.' His mouth moved from ear to neck with painstaking precision. Barely touching her when, quite frankly, if he had thrown her down onto the carpet and then, weighted himself on top of her she would have cried out with pleasure.
He placed his hands loosely at her shoulders-so no one could have said that he was holding her against her will. Because he wasn't. He wasn't. Oh, Lord-his mouth was brushing across her cheek now, and she was restlessly turning her face so that he could capture her lips and he was laughing at her, mocking her.
And finally, when their lips fused, the pleasure was so intense that it was like lights going off inside her head, sparks igniting in her veins. Coupled with the honeyed tug of desire, it was the most devastating cocktail imaginable. And he had always been able to do this. Bring her to this earth-shattering brink within minutes.
The hands moved from her shoulders with lazy deliberation towards her breasts. She could have stopped them. Stopped them before they started playing idly with the tips so that she moaned. And then prevented him from cupping them luxuriously, measuring their weight like a connoisseur, even though she hated to think of his expertise in this area. Pain fused with pleasure, making it even more intense.
Feeling the hot, sharp pull of surrender, she pressed her body against his in blatant and unashamed need, when he abruptly pulled away from her, his face full of bitterness as he stared down at his shaking hands.
'God, it's so true!' he said, as if he was talking to himself. 'It's so bloody true! The predictability of women in general-and you in particular!'
She stared at him, shook her head in confusion, too baffled for words.
'Last night you wouldn't come near me!' he accused hotly. 'You looked like I was guilty of a capital crime when I tried to kiss you! Did you still see me as your poor, jobbing carpenter with no ambitions other than to keep a roof over his head?'
The unjustness of the accusation stung her. All her life she had wanted him, no matter how much he had-or didn't have-in his wallet. 'You know that's not true!'
'Do I?' He shook his head. 'All I know is that today you've discovered that I'm worth something and you can't wait to fall into my arms like a windfall-overripe and juicy-just waiting to topple from the tree. Are you overripe and juicy, kitten? Want me to find out?'
The insults fired her up, his scorn and obvious dislike giving her back her power of speech. And pride. 'You? You think you're worth so much? Well, I'll tell you exactly what you're worth, Drew Glover-nothing! Nothing at all!'
'But you couldn't wait for "nothing" to engage in a vigorous bout of sex with you, could you, Shelley?'
She burst out with a high, nervous laugh. 'You make it sound like a boxing match!'
'Then tell me how you like to describe it, kitten,' he suggested, on a silky threat.
And his question brought it crashing home to her how completely his love for her had died. Oh, he still felt desire, strong desire-yes-he had made that very clear. But what was desire without respect? Wouldn't that just chip away at her self-esteem, and risk destroying it completely?
'Your new-found wealth seems to have affected your judgement,' she told him coldly. 'You have become even more high-handed and right now I could almost hate you, Drew Glover!'
'Maybe you could-but you still want me all the same, don't you, Shelley? Just the same as I want you.' His voice was like silk, his words rich and dark and sultry, and she could feel the tension between them gathering momentum, like a snowball rolling down the side of a hill.