“Jan and I were great,” he continued. “And Nicky was the icing on the cake.” He looked out at the tugs, avoiding her gaze again. “Sorry I did what I did. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I truly loved Jan. I’m ashamed I lost my self-control with you.”
He rubbed a hand across his mouth, as though to stifle further words.
Had he hurt her? Fiona wasn’t sure. She’d certainly been surprised. But not hurt.
Hurt was what she felt now. Deep, pulsing hurt that rasped at her bones and dragged at her breath. He’d just turned everything upside-down. Yesterday morning had been an incandescent revelation. The pleasure had been intense, the desire unspeakably sharp. Why hadn’t he left it like that—a swift jewel-bright scene in an otherwise unremarkable play?
The evening’s surprising follow-on had completed the little drama. Fiona hadn’t expected him to touch her again after his earlier comments about cooling things down, but for a second time the intense physical attraction had flared. And now he felt ashamed?
Last night she’d found the courage to ask him not to continue. That should have been the end of it, but he was stirring things up again, trampling on her exquisite memories.
She knew she’d replay those scenes in her mind for months—years?—and she wanted them left unsullied. Her wistful recollections of their brief time together would have been consolation on the far side of the world, but not if he tarnished and trashed them.
“I wasn’t hurt yesterday, Christian,” she said in a low shaky voice. “But you’re doing a very good job of hurting me now. Let’s just leave it. It happened. It won’t be happening again—but don’t grind it into the dirt.” She stared out through the windscreen, teeth clenched.
The harbor sparkled. The gulls wheeled in the summer sky. And her heart, or something very near to it, felt as though it had been ripped apart.
He swung around in the driver’s seat, eyes hugely black.
“I was not grinding it into the dirt,” he grated.
Fiona jumped at his sudden movement and fierce declaration.
“God—you have no idea what I went through yesterday. You can’t imagine how I whipped myself for letting that happen!”
“Twice,” she muttered.
“Yes, all right then—bloody twice. I can’t keep my hands off you. My wife is hardly dead and I’m chasing the pants off her sister. Sick or what?”
They sat together in stunned silence, staring at each other. With a sudden curse, he started the engine and shot backwards out of the parking space. Fiona gasped and doubled over as the seat-belt bit savagely into the big graze across her hip.
Christian realized what he’d done and rolled back into the park, braking gently. He unsnapped his own belt and gathered her into his arms.
“Blondie, I’m so sorry, so sorry. I’d give anything not to have done that to you.” He stroked her face, pressed his lips against her brow, and with a groan of absolute defeat, nuzzled down until his mouth once again claimed hers.
Fiona reeled from pain and confusion and rapture. After nearly killing her with unkind words and physical agony, he’d swept her yet again into his possessive embrace. This time his kiss was gentler, regretful, tender. She followed him blindly, emotions in utter disarray.
Finally she drew back from him.
“Christian,” she whispered. “We can’t keep doing this. And not here, for sure. It’s too public. Your face is too well-known...”
He glanced at his watch. “And it’s almost time for your appointment. Dammit, Fiona...” He shrugged his shoulders, blew out a long breath of resignation, and reached for his seat-belt again.
“I’ll go home to Mom and Dad’s the day you’re due back from Japan. Out of sight, out of mind.”
Christian fired up the car and reversed with care.
“Wanna bet, doll?” he drawled in a cartoon accent.
“I can’t stay longer.”
“I know. You’re right...you’re right. But it’ll kill me not having you around.”
“You spent most of your time trying to get rid of me.”
“I can’t have you, but I don’t want to let you go.” He pulled out into the traffic with a bitter laugh.
“It’s the shock of losing Jan,” she said. “Nothing’s normal right now. Once some time goes by, you’ll be different. Busy with work again. Getting back into life.”
She hated the truth she’d so precisely described.
“And you’ll be on the other side of the world.”
“Problem solved.”
“If you say so...”
The big silver car gathered speed and she settled deeper into her leather-scented seat. “Blondie?” she inquired, with a lift of her eyebrows.