‘Oh,’ said Zoe. She felt as if she were in a falling elevator. No solid ground anywhere and a distinct rushing sound in her ears.
‘In fact I’m probably uniquely qualified to do that,’ said Jay, bitterness seeping out. ‘Mr No Commitment.’
‘I—see.’
He leaned against a cupboard and looked all the way across the kitchen at her. Zoe shivered. His expression was brooding.
‘No claims. No promises. No history. I’m the dream ticket, aren’t I?’
Oh, you are! You are!
‘I-er—I hadn’t really thought about it,’ said Zoe.
She was not certain if that was true. Certainly when she’d flung her challenge at him she had never thought for a moment that he would pick it up. Okay, this evening she had been shivering with desire just to touch him. But she was hurt and in shock. Surely anyone could be allowed a little fantasy at moments like that?
Except—where did it come from, that sensitivity to his touch, his voice, his glance, even the scents of his damned clothes?
Jay’s voice gentled. ‘Think about it now.’
She did. It brought an image of his hands on her, so clear that she broke out in a sweat. The elevator reversed polarity and took off like a rocket.
She said in a gasping voice, ‘You really wouldn’t mind?’
He laughed. ‘You sound like a polite child. There’s no need to be grateful. It’s no hardship. You must know that you’re gorgeous.’
He paused expectantly. Zoe did not say anything. Her head was so light she felt that she was curving round Mars with a comet tail of fire blazing after her.
‘You know me. I’m not a good man. There are women I have hurt. But I can do this thing.’ And, as she still said nothing, he added, ‘Only if it will help, of course.’
Zoe, her ears ringing, was heading out of the solar system by now. She managed to gasp, ‘Oh, it will. It will. I accept.’
That was when her numbed fingers lost their grip. The hated dragon mug crashed onto the tiled floor and broke into a thousand pieces. The shards scattered, powdering the floor and her discarded footwear. A great jagged piece with teeth lodged in her tumbled left shoe.
And Zoe, who loathed the dragons and all they represented, broke into inconsolable tears.
CHAPTER EIGHT
JAY was surprisingly competent with her tears. After a brief moment of pure, masculine horror, he picked her off the chair and crunched through the broken pottery to the French window. Hesitating only a moment with the handle, he shouldered his way out onto the night-time patio. There he dropped her onto the old wooden bench.
‘Put my jacket on properly, or you’ll get cold.’
Zoe sniffed.
He gave an exasperated sigh and whipped a pristine handkerchief out of his trouser pocket, stuffing it into her right hand. Then he took her left hand and inserted it into the left sleeve of the jacket and pushed.
Zoe blew her nose.
Gosh, I’m being pathetic, she castigated herself. But it felt wonderful to be so close to him, having him care for her. She let herself flop about like an awkward kindergarten pupil as he hauled. It gave her the chance to lean against him. Even—briefly—bury her nose in his crisp shirt-front. Heart- stopping!
Pull yourself together. You’re not four years old.
Well, she had not been behaving in a very grown-up way since he’d arrived. But the way she felt in his arms was certainly not child-like. Time to take a hold on life again!
Zoe straightened, reluctant to leave his arms, knowing that she had to. ‘It’s all right. I’ve got it.’
At once, he stepped back.
Zoe tried not to feel bereft. She dealt with the other sleeve herself. The jacket was much too big, yet it felt as if she belonged in it. The lining slipped along her bare arms like a secret kiss. The way the lining moved against her skin, it had to be silk. Soft as a kiss but warm as a blanket, she thought, savouring the sensation. She gave a small, voluptuous shiver.
Jay said in a worried voice, ‘You shouldn’t be that cold. It’s a warm night.’
‘No—it’s—I’m fine,’ she said hurriedly. ‘Thank you.’
He still looked down at her, frowning. ‘Maybe that burn is worse than it looks. How does it feel now?’