The whispered assertion was like a stab in the gut, but he wasn’t going to deny the truth of it.
‘So shall I start the engine or not…?’
‘Start the engine.’
She didn’t know where they were going, but she wasn’t surprised, after twenty minutes during which nothing was said, to find them pulling up in front of the house that she had visited many times before when Antonio had been living there.
She followed him out of the car, waited until he had unlocked the front door and stepped behind him into the dark hall, instantly thrown into light at the flick of a switch.
‘I’m going to make you a coffee,’ Rocco said, turning to her, wanting her so badly that it hurt and knowing that the last thing he should do was head up to the bedroom. She would come. He knew that. They would make love, passionate, fulfilling love. But without frills, the very act would become nothing more for her than a base exchange of bodily fluids. He had never thought about sex in those terms before but he thought it now and found it distasteful.
Amy nodded and, for the sake of making conversation, asked him about his father.
‘I spoke to him,’ Rocco said, without turning around. ‘It went beyond the polite exchanges we have become accustomed to. Sit down. I won’t bother to tell you to make yourself at home; I should think you already know this place like the back of your hand.’
Downstairs, at any rate, Amy thought, with another excited, nervous pang at the thought of what awaited her upstairs.
‘I telephoned him two days ago to talk about the company and to ask his advice on certain things. I also mentioned that scrapbook…’
‘You did?’ Amy smiled warmly just as he turned around to face her.
‘I did,’ Rocco said dryly. ‘I think we are beginning to make headway on the personal problems that have dogged us over the years.’
‘You are?’ Her smile broadened with delight and Rocco looked at her with amusement.
‘You’ll make a brilliant teacher…’
Once, she would have been thrown off course by the abrupt change in conversation. Now, she just fell in with the flow, relaxing for the first time that evening and enjoying the easy contentment that filled her when he was like this, at his most charming and open and relaxed.
‘Even though I shall be ancient compared to everyone else and won’t have enough money to live on?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid you will be ancient in comparison…’ Rocco smiled at the thought of that ‘…and as for the money…well, I would never let you go without…’
‘Sorry?’
Where the hell had that come from? he thought in confusion.
‘Obviously, I would do what my father would have done, make sure that you were looked after and financially supported wherever possible.’
‘Did anyone see you as you were leaving?’ If he could change the subject as and when he wanted, depending on whether he wanted to avoid a conversation or not, then so could she, and right now she wanted to avoid any conversation in which he had a starring role as her guardian angel.
‘Lots of people,’ Rocco answered with a straight face. He sat down at the kitchen table, facing her, and dragged a chair towards him, which he proceeded to use as a footstool. ‘I told them that I was bringing you back to my house so that we could make love.’
‘You didn’t!’
‘No, I didn’t. Only a couple of people were around in the outer hall and they were too busy babbling over one another to notice me, so I crept out like a thief into the night carrying your picture and the flowers.’
It made an unbearably romantic picture. Rocco had all the physical similarities to make a very convincing cat burglar. Jittery, excited nervousness made her feel suddenly faint as she contemplated the bedroom upstairs, waiting. Now that she had made her mind up, there was no going back. She was in it now for better or for worse. Actually, for worse, Amy thought realistically. Forget about the better bit. She pushed her mug away from her, cupped her chin in her hand and looked him squarely in the face.
‘Well? Shall we go upstairs now?’
CHAPTER TEN
SO WHAT, Rocco thought, was with the sudden reluctance? As a fully paid-up member of the red-blooded male club, he should have been taking the stairs two at a time in his haste to get Amy into bed. Hadn’t he been the one to make the suggestion in the first place? She had been on his mind, night and day, ambushing him when he was trying to work, feeding his restlessness when he had a thousand and one things to think about of more pressing importance. He had come to the conclusion that sleeping with her would get rid once and for all of the impact she was silently having on him.
And here she was, fixing him with those huge nervous, serious, crazily enticing brown eyes, inviting him to bed. Two and two should make four in an ideal world, but suddenly he was disconcertingly reluctant.
‘What’s the rush?’ he asked, when she stood up and extended one slim hand towards him. ‘Don’t all members of the animal kingdom perform a courtship routine before mating?’
‘I thought we’d already done that with the coffee,’ Amy quipped, uncomfortable now. Should she sit back down? He hadn’t moved, after all. It occurred to her, just a quick, nagging thought, that perhaps he had gone off the idea altogether now that he had proved that he could have her. Whenever he wanted, and on his terms.
‘What a thoroughly modern miss,’ Rocco drawled, with an edge to his voice. He was accustomed to knowing precisely where he was going and what he was doing; the confusion he was feeling now, instead of engendering self-analysis, ignited frustrated anger. Anger at himself, anger at her, anger at not knowing why things were suddenly not as straightforward as they should have been. He should have been tearing her clothes off, for God’s sake! Instead of sitting here like a wimp!
‘One cup of coffee. Is that all it took for your ex-boyfriend to get you into bed?’
A rush of colour turned her cheeks to scarlet and she collapsed back into the kitchen chair.
‘What’s this all about, Rocco?’
‘I asked you a question!’
‘And I’m not answering it! I knew…I just knew that it was a mistake coming here in the first place.’
‘Don’t accuse me of arm-twisting,’ he grated. ‘If I recall, I asked you in no uncertain terms whether you were sure you wanted to!’
‘I didn’t think…what’s the matter with you?’
Rocco had no idea. He just felt as though he were uncomfortable in his own skin, and the nasty little incident when she had informed him that he had been nothing more than sex on the rebound, which he had thought he had put to bed, now came rushing back at him with renewed force. He saw the bewilderment on her face and it stoked his anger.
‘What’s the matter with me?’ He stood up and began walking through the kitchen, circling the central isle like an untamed predator caught in a trap. He needed to release some of this killing energy. And he didn’t want to see her face. He didn’t understand what the hell was the matter with him, and incomprehension was fuelling his brooding, angry helplessness.
‘I’m calling a taxi.’ Amy extracted the mobile phone from her bag with trembling hands and shakily dialled through to the taxi company she always used. She kept one eye on him as she made the call, wondering how she was going to get through the time it would take for them to arrive. She didn’t even think that he had realised that she had called a taxi.
‘How dare you ask what’s the matter with me? The first time you slept with me because you needed a bit of sexual therapy and here you are now, ready to sleep with me again without even bothering with the frills of wooing!’
Amy’s head snapped round in shocked, hurt rage. Trust him, in his arrogance, to overlook his own behaviour. Did he think that she was some kind of sexual predator? It was such a ludicrous thought that, under any other circumstances, she might have burst out laughing.
‘There’s no point the two of us shouting at one another,’ she said stiffly, her body rigid with tensio
n. ‘I got the wrong message. I thought this attraction thing was…was mutual. Now I realise that the only reason you brought me back here is because you still want to avenge your hurt pride!’
‘Maybe you’re right.’
No, she wasn’t going to cry. No, she wasn’t even going to allow her lip to wobble. She was going to survive this agony and walk out of this house a better, stronger person. This was going to be a valuable lesson to her in never getting emotionally out of her depth. When it came to matters of the heart, she just wasn’t a strong enough swimmer.
Rocco paused with his hip against the counter and frowned across at her, raking his long fingers through his hair.
‘Could you blame me?’ he growled because her silence was beginning to infuriate him.
Amy shrugged and eyed him warily as he took a couple of steps towards her.
‘What does…’ he gave an eloquent version of her shrug ‘…mean?’
He pulled up a chair so that he was sitting facing her, leaning towards her with his elbows resting on his splayed knees. All that was missing was a bright spotlight, she thought, drawing back, and he would be in full interrogation mode.
‘I can’t believe we came here…you pretended…you just brought me here so that you could accuse me of…stuff.’
Rocco flushed darkly.
‘I suppose next you’ll be launching into a sermon on how stupid I am to be thinking about changing my career, even though a minute ago you told me that I might make a good teacher.’ She could feel her eyes begin to well up in self-pity and bitter disappointment and she lowered them hurriedly.
‘I apologise…’
‘What for?’ Amy looked up at him, eyes flashing. ‘You’re just being honest, after all. I made a stupid remark and you’re making me pay for it!’ Their eyes met and it took enormous effort not to be the first to look away. ‘But you needn’t worry! I’ve ordered a taxi. It should be here any minute and once I leave this house I’ll be out of your life for good! I won’t bother coming in to work next week. I’ve handed over everything already, anyway, and my team are fully capable of taking over in my absence!’
On cue, there was a sharp ring on the doorbell and Rocco pushed his chair back, sending it flying behind him where it clattered into the side of the counter.
Amy grabbed her handbag and raced behind him to catch him aggressively ordering the taxi driver to leave immediately. He pulled out his wallet and she grabbed his wrist fiercely.
’ What do you think you’re doing?’
‘Are you the lady who ordered the taxi?’ The cab driver was obviously having second thoughts about the wisdom of coming out for this particular fare.
‘I’m paying the man for wasting his time in coming here,’ Rocco glowered, shoving a wad of notes to the taxi driver without bothering to count them.
‘Yes, I’m Miss Hogan.’
One arm of steel reached across, barring her exit.
‘You coming or not, lady?’ Having been paid excessively and with the prospect of not actually having to drop anyone anywhere for the money, the taxi driver already had departure written all over his face.
‘The lady won’t be coming,’ Rocco snarled.
‘Sorry,’ Amy apologised through gritted teeth.
She waited until the front door had slammed and then swung round to face Rocco, hands on hips.
‘Thank you very much. And how long do you intend on keeping me prisoner here?’
He didn’t like that but Amy no longer cared. She looked back on the girl who had excitedly come to the house as someone else, a gullible creature whose heart had been broken but who had made no effort to protect herself from further hurt.
‘I think we should have a drink,’ was all he said.
He stalked into the kitchen and while she hovered in impotent fury by the door, arms belligerently folded, he poured himself a glass of wine. When he offered her one, she shook her head, barely trusting herself to speak.
Mimicking one of her shrugs, he brushed past her towards the sitting room, expecting her to follow him. Which she did.
‘You had no right to cancel my taxi,’ Amy began in her best restrained voice.
‘We hadn’t finished talking.’
‘I had!’
‘Sit down. You look as though you’re about to turn tail and run, standing there by the door.’
‘I would if there was anywhere to run to!’ She sighed in annoyance but sat on one of the chairs, waiting for him to talk. He claimed he wanted to talk, then she would just sit and let him fire away.
While she was as tense as a tightly coiled spring, he sprawled back on the sofa, holding his wineglass lightly on his chest, staring up at the ceiling.
‘I didn’t bring you out here so that I could vent my anger on you,’ Rocco said, out of the blue. His fabulous eyes flickered in her direction. ‘When we left that party, I was all in favour of a long night of undiluted passion.’
‘Then what happened?’ Amy whispered, straining forward to hear him. He hadn’t bothered to switch the lights on, so that the only lighting was what filtered through the open door leading out into the large stone-flagged hall.
‘Then…good question…’ He stood up, with his unfinished glass in one hand although he had stopped drinking. She thought that he might actually have forgotten he had it at all. He shoved his hand in his pocket and began prowling through the room, finally pausing in front of the fireplace so that he could rest the glass on the mantelpiece.
‘It just didn’t seem a very good idea…’ he said.
‘Because you realised that you could have me and that, really, I wasn’t your type? Could that be the reason?’ Every word was fired with the precision of a gun aimed directly at herself. ‘I was amusing when I was a challenge and when you thought that you had a bit of competition. Sleeping with me was something you did because, in your great wisdom, you decided that the competition in question wasn’t of the right quality. Am I heading along the right lines here, Rocco? Am I working things out correctly? I guess if I hadn’t delivered a blow to your masculine pride, you might have just left it there, but you had to sleep with me again, had to make sure that you could get me into bed, so that you could prove to yourself that my attraction to you hadn’t been a one-off thing.’
And all those bits that she hadn’t added. The bits about her and her motivations. The bits about the way she had tried to fight what she felt only to discover that it was bigger and stronger than all the defences she could erect.
Now it was her turn to feel her anger swell as he stood there by the mantelpiece in complete silence. The complete, telling silence, she thought, of agreement. A fresh wave of humiliation washed over her.
‘I’d agree with every word of that if I could,’ Rocco eventually said in such a low voice that Amy wasn’t sure she had heard properly.
‘I can’t hear you!’
‘I said,’ he enunciated loudly, accusingly, ‘that I would love nothing better to agree with you if I could.’ He shook his head as if trying to clear it and glared at her. ‘If I had had all that planned out the way you say, then at least I could tell myself that I was in control.’
‘I…I don’t know what you’re trying to say…’ Amy’s eyes widened and she tried to grapple with the meaning of his words, but it was like trying to decipher a string of double Dutch.
‘This is entirely your fault,’ Rocco threw at her, stepping forward towards her and dragging a footstool over so that he was sitting right next to her but at a lower level. For once, he was looking up at her, although it still did nothing to calm her gut-wrenching tension.
‘I might have expected you to blame me for everything.’
‘I was absolutely fine and in control of every cornerstone of my life until you waltzed into it.’
‘Which is exactly what could be said about me!’ Amy burst out, without thinking, and Rocco looked at her, searching her face for answers.
‘I mean…’ she retreated in panic ‘…one minute we were
all a happy little team, doing a job we loved, and then you come along and blow everything to pieces…’
‘Everyone needs a shake-up now and again in their lives.’
‘Or else what?’ Amy queried waspishly. ‘They might just explode from over-contentment?’
‘What about Sam? Are you telling me that you were contented with that relationship?’
‘No. If you want the truth, it wasn’t going anywhere, but that doesn’t mean that you had a right to try and get involved.’
‘I had no choice.’ Rocco looked down and linked his fingers behind his neck. It just wasn’t fair that he could attack her and bring her to tears and still manage to do the vulnerability thing, Amy thought bitterly.
‘Because someone was pointing a gun to your head?’
‘Because…’
There was a deafening silence while he visibly sought to express himself and Amy found herself floundering in unknown waters. What was he trying to say? Whatever it was, it didn’t make him feel very comfortable, judging from the rigid set of his shoulders and the cautious, defensive look he was now levelling on her.
‘I didn’t sleep with you…to prove a point. I let you think that and maybe I let myself think that as well. I slept with you because I was driven to.’
As declarations went, it was astounding enough to make her mouth fall open in sheer amazement.
Rocco gave a short, dry laugh devoid of any amusement.
‘Why didn’t you say that?’ Amy whispered. Hope, resilient to the last, began slithering like a tenacious vine through the debris of her emotions.
‘Because…because driven, except when it refers to work, has never been something I have experienced.’
Another tendril of hope shot through her but, like someone adrift on stormy waters, confronted with a slither of wood, she refused to cling to it.
‘You have no idea what went through me when you told me that I had been nothing but someone there at the right time to take your mind off your recently departed lover.’
‘He was never my lover,’ she confirmed, hands balled into fists at her sides. ‘He was my mistake. And I only threw that at you because I was retaliating at what you had told me.’
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