‘But you just fitted in,’ she pondered absently.
‘I didn’t always have money at my disposal,’ he said abruptly and she looked at him, surprised, because this was the first time he had ever come right out and said anything at all about his past. During all that concentrated time when they had been trapped in the cottage, held prisoner by the weather, he had talked about what he did, various situations he had encountered...he had amused her and held her spellbound with stories of the places he had been to...
But he had not once reminisced about his past.
‘You act as though you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth,’ Becky said encouragingly.
This was just small talk, she told herself. But deep down she already knew she had fallen in love with the man. She had recognised that awful, awful truth just as she had recognised that falling in love with him had not been part of the deal. But the deal was for her to keep up the act of being the woman he had recruited to play this role, the woman who wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and blur fact with fiction, so shouldn’t she be as natural and as chatty as she possibly could be?
And, if she learnt a little more about him, then where was the harm in that? She preferred not to think of it as furtively feeding her greedy desire to know as much about him as she could, to take as much as she was capable of taking with her, so that in the long weeks and months ahead she could pull all those little details out of their hiding places and dwell on them at her leisure.
‘Do I?’ Theo didn’t know whether to be taken aback or amused at her blunt honesty.
‘You don’t pay any attention at all to your surroundings,’ Becky explained. ‘You barely notice all those wonderful paintings in your apartment and you hardly looked around you when you stepped aboard this jet.’
‘It’s easy to become accustomed to what you know. The novelty wears off after a while.’
‘When did that happen?’ Becky asked with lively interest. ‘I’m only asking,’ she hurried on, ‘because, if we’re supposed to be an item, it’s only natural that I would know a little bit about you...’
‘You know a great deal about me,’ Theo drawled.
‘But I don’t know anything about your...past.’
‘The past is irrelevant.’
‘No, it’s not,’ Becky disagreed stoutly. ‘The past makes us the people we are. What if your mother says something about you, expecting me to know what she’s talking about, and I look at her blankly and have to admit that I haven’t got a clue what she’s talking about?’
‘I doubt she’d die of shock,’ Theo responded drily. ‘I’m a private person and my mother is all too aware of that.’
‘You wouldn’t be private with someone you’re supposedly serious about.’
‘I think you’re confusing me with someone else,’ Theo responded wryly. ‘You’re mixing me up with one of those touchy-feely types who think that relationships are all about outpourings of emotion and the high drama sharing of confidences.’
‘You’re so sarcastic, Theo,’ Becky muttered.
‘Realistic,’ Theo contradicted calmly. ‘I don’t do emotional drama and I wouldn’t expect any woman I was serious about to do it either.’
Becky stared at him. ‘You mean you’d want someone to be as cold and detached as you?’
‘I wouldn’t say that I’m cold and detached, and if you think hard about it, Becky, I’m pretty sure you’d agree.’ He shot her a wolfish smile, enjoying the hectic colour that flooded her cheeks as she clocked what he was saying and bristled.
‘That remark is inappropriate,’ Becky spat, all hot and bothered. She had laid down her ground rules, and it was even more important now that he obey them, because how was she going to keep a clear head if he did again what he had just done? Got under her skin like that, with a few words and a sexy little smile?
‘Why? Because you’ve told me that you’re not interested in going to bed with me?’
Becky went from pink to scarlet. ‘This—this isn’t what this is about,’ she stuttered, her voice letting her down because it was high-pitched and cracked, not at all the voice of someone cool, confident and in control.
‘You shouldn’t dress like that if you want me to stay focused,’ Theo told her bluntly.
Becky hated the stab of pleasure that raced through her. She’d made the fatal error of thinking that sex was just an act that could be performed without the emotions coming into play. She wasn’t built like that.
But Theo was.
He’d said so himself. He took women to bed and then dispatched them when they began to outstay their welcome. He never involved his emotions because he had no emotions to involve.
Emotional drama. That was what most normal people would call falling in love and it was what she had stupidly gone and done with the last man on the planet who deserved it. At least Freddy had been a worthwhile candidate when it came to feelings, even if she hadn’t been the one for him nor, as it turned out, he for her. At least he was capable of feeling.
‘If you recall,’ Becky told him coldly, ‘I was told that none of my clothes were going to cut the mustard...’
Theo grunted. He thought that it was a good thing that they would be staying at his villa. Fewer men crashing into lamp posts as they turned around to stare. His blood boiled when he thought of young Italian boys looking at her with that open, avid interest that they never bothered to hide. Salivating.
‘Anyway.’ She was keen to get away from the topic of her clothes, keen to get away from anything that could make her skin prickle and tease her body into remembering what it had felt like to be touched by him. ‘You were filling me in on your background.’ She smiled and cleared her throat. ‘You were going to try and convince me that you remember what it’s like to have no money when you act as though you were born to the high life. I can’t believe you’ve ever been anything but rich...’
It occurred to Theo that it had been a long, long time since he had let his guard down with any woman. She was looking at him, her bright blue eyes soft and questioning, her full lips parted on a smile, her body language so damned appealing that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.
‘You’re not trying to turn me into a touchy-feely guy, are you?’ he murmured, but returned her smile.
‘I wouldn’t dream of trying,’ Becky said honestly.
‘Are you going to feel sorry for me if I tell you my sob story?’
‘I don’t believe you have a sob story.’ Her heart was beating so fast and so hard, she could actually feel it knocking against her rib cage. This definitely wasn’t flirting, they were having a proper conversation, but it still felt like flirting. There was still something charged in the atmosphere that made her tingle.
‘My mother...had her heart broken when she was a young woman.’ Theo was startled that he was telling her this because it was an intensely private part of his past that he had never revealed to anyone. ‘I was very young at the time.’
‘What happened?’ Becky asked breathlessly.
‘My father was killed. Quite suddenly. One of those freak accidents you read about sometimes. Wrong place, wrong time. My mother was inconsolable. She...’ This was skating on thin ice, and he paused, but then decided to push on. Again, that tug on his conscience. Again, he swept it uncomfortably aside. ‘Packed her bags overnight, from what I understand, sold for a song the house they had shared and went as far away as she could. Of course, there was no money. Or very little. She worked in all manner of jobs so that she could give me whatever she felt I wanted...or needed. She instilled in me the importance of education and made sure I got the best on offer. She worked her fingers to the bone because, in the midst of her own personal heartbreak, I was the only person in the world who mattered to her.’
And she’d never moved on. Until she’d started talking about the cottage, talking wistfully about her desire to return there after her hasty departure over two decades ago. Coming to terms with the tragedy that had broken her had, to The
o, been a signal of her moving on at long last because, if she could reconcile herself to the past, then she would be free of the vice-like grip it had had over her.
He’d preferred that moving on solution to the other, which was moving on to become a mother-in-law and eventually a grandmother, moving on to a different and more rewarding phase in her life.
‘I can see why this is so important to you,’ Becky said simply and it took Theo a couple of minutes to drag his mind away from the surprise of his confession so that he could properly focus on her.
‘Have you been moved by my heart-breaking tale?’
‘Don’t be so cynical.’ Did he feel that his duty from a young age had been to fulfil the role of man of the family? Had their lack of money made him thirsty for financial security? Her liberal-minded parents had prided themselves on their lack of absorption when it came to money. Was that why they had never told her that they might have liked the cottage to be sold so that they could have more of a financial comfort blanket? Having boxed themselves into the position of people who didn’t place any value on money, had they then been too embarrassed to tell her to move out? Had that sentiment been there alongside the sympathy they had felt for her as the daughter with the non-existent love life?
She felt as though Theo had burst into her life and opened a Pandora’s box of feelings and realisations she had never been aware of before.
‘My mother will probably be a little subdued when we get to Italy,’ Theo said, changing the conversation with a slight frown. ‘My aunt will not have told her that she’s made me aware of the reason for her hospital visit, which is good, but my mother is a proud woman, and I think she’ll be nursing a certain amount of...shame that she has become reliant on alcohol to help her get through the day.’
‘I get that,’ Becky murmured.
There was nothing cloying about her sympathy and Theo slanted an appreciative glance across at her. She was matter-of-fact about the circumstances for this charade—a result of working in a profession where she was alert to all sorts of vulnerability in people, he guessed, who harboured deep feelings about the pets she was called upon to treat. A tough man might shed tears if his dog had to be put down but Theo guessed that those tears would only be shed in the presence of the vet who administered the final injection.
Becky decided that it was better not to dwell on Theo’s surprising show of confidence-sharing. This wasn’t some side of him he was unexpectedly revealing to her. This was necessary information he felt he had to impart and he had done so dispassionately.
Some gut instinct also made her realise that, if she tried to reach out to him and prolong the moment, he would retreat faster than a speeding bullet and resent her for being the one with whom this very private information had had to be imparted.
She had never met a man more proud or more guarded. She could understand why the thought of having any one else do what she was doing had been out of the question as far as he was concerned. Any woman who was in the slightest bit interested in the sort of relationship he clearly had no interest in would have seized the opportunity to take advantage of his need to confide, would have seen it as an opportunity to go beyond the skin-deep experience he was willing to have.
Becky shuddered when she thought of the irony of sitting here, in love with him, if only he knew it.
Deliberately, she changed the subject, and it wasn’t very long before the jet was dipping down to the landing strip and then gliding to a smooth stop.
They had left behind a cold and grey London—not freezing, as it had been in the Cotswolds, but nevertheless miserable and dank.
They landed here to blue skies and a crispness in the air that felt like the touch of perfect spring.
A car was waiting for them.
Theo might have had hard times growing up but he had certainly not been tainted by the memory. He had made his fortune and had no qualms in spending his money with lavish extravagance. No expense was spared when it came to creature comforts.
He led her to the waiting car and ushered her into the back seat, moving round to the opposite side so that he could slide in next to her.
‘My mother grew up in Tuscany,’ Theo told her as she stared out at the mouth-watering scenery flashing past them. Lush green mountains were the backdrop to picturesque, colourful houses nestled into the greenery like a child’s painting of match boxes in different, flamboyant colours.
‘But,’ he continued, ‘she moved to England when she met and married my father. When her own mother died six years ago, I decided to invest in a villa near Portofino, because that’s where her sister lives. Of course, that was before the place became flooded with A-listers. I, personally, think they should have both moved back to Tuscany when Flora’s husband died three years ago, but they like the weather on the peninsula.’
‘Shh!’
‘Come again?’
‘Don’t talk,’ Becky breathed. ‘It’s interrupting my looking.’
Theo laughed and then gazed at her rapt expression as she took in the outstandingly postcard-pretty harbour dotted with fishing boats and luxury yachts and lined with tall, graceful, colour-washed houses.
A tantalising view before the car swept up into the hills, curving and turning so that flashes of the harbour appeared and disappeared, getting smaller and smaller with each brief glimpse.
Becky had forgotten all her doubts, her apprehension, even the stark, dangerous reality of her feelings for the man sitting next to her. All had been swept aside by the sumptuous glamour of her surroundings. She realised that she hadn’t actually had a proper holiday in ages and certainly nothing along these lines. This was a one-off. She was dipping her toes into another world and it wouldn’t happen again.
She caught her breath as the car glided smoothly through some impressive gates, up a tree-lined drive and then into a little courtyard, in front of which was a lovely two-storeyed house, gaily painted a bright shade of salmon, with deep-green shutters which had been flung back.
There were tall trees everywhere, casting patterns of shade across the walls of the house, and on the leafy grass and clusters of flowers, and bushes were pressed against the walls, seemingly trying to clamber upwards to the roof.
The porch on the ground floor was broad enough to house a cluster of chairs and its replica was a balcony on the first floor, the white railings of which were laced with foliage that spilled over the sides, bursting with colourful flowers that stretched down to reach the bushes and flowers that were clambering up.
It was enchanting and Becky stood still for a minute as the chauffeur and Theo, with the cases, walked towards the front door.
‘Is this another shh moment?’ Theo asked, strolling back for her and leading her gently to the door.
‘I think I’m in love.’ She looked up at him, face flushed, poised wickedly on a perilous ledge where she was telling him nothing but the complete truth, just for this heartbeat moment. ‘With this beautiful house...’ she completed with the thrill of someone who had just managed a narrow escape from the jaws of untold danger.
She was unaware of being observed until she heard some delighted clapping and, when she blinked and turned round, it was to see a small, very pretty middle-aged woman standing in the doorway of the house with a broad smile on her face. She was propped up and leaning heavily on a cane.
And in that split instant Becky saw with her own eyes the depth of love that had driven Theo to take the drastic measure of setting up this charade for the benefit of his mother.
For he had walked quickly to the door to sweep his mother into a hug that was uncharacteristically gentle and very, very loving.
‘Enough of you!’ Marita Rushing was tenderly pushing her way out of his bear hug to beam around him at Becky, who had remained in the background, dithering, acutely self-conscious and not quite knowing what to do.
‘At last, he brings a real woman for me to meet! Come here and let me see you, child!’
* * *
‘I
haven’t seen her this happy in a long time’ was the first thing Theo said to her hours later, after Marita Rushing had retired for the evening to her quarters, which were on the ground floor—a very happy situation, considering her mobility was not yet back up to speed after the accident. It also meant that there was no concerned surprise that a bedroom wasn’t being shared by the love birds. Marita Rushing might have been traditional but Becky didn’t think that she was so traditional that she wouldn’t have been suspicious to discover that her vastly experienced son was sleeping in a different bedroom from the love of his life.
Becky turned to him, half-wanting to continue the conversation, half-wanting him to leave, because he was in the room she had been allocated and she had yet to recover from all the touching that had gone on throughout the course of the evening.
‘Don’t forget,’ he had whispered at one point, his breath warm against her ear, sending all sorts of forbidden tingles up and down her spine, ‘that you’re the light of my life, that I can’t keep my hands off you...’
At that point, he had been sitting next to her on the sofa whilst opposite them his mother had been chattering away, excitement stamped into every fluttering gesture and every thrilled smile. His hand had been on her thigh, casually resting there with the heavy weight of ownership. She had tried to snap her legs together but the insistent slide of his thumb at the very acceptable point just above her knee had prohibited any such display of prudishness.
They were an item and he had had no qualms about running away with the concept.
At every turn, she had felt those lazy grey eyes on her. When he had touched her, he had managed to touch her in places that provoked the greatest physical arousal, even though you’d never have guessed if you’d been looking from the outside, because every touch was as light as a feather and as soft as a whisper, lingering just a little too long and in places that were just a little too intimate.
Snowbound With His Innocent Temptation Page 11
