She bit her lip. Looked as if he wasn’t coming back tonight, then. She ought to go, but somehow she was reluctant to leave the place where he spent most of his days.
She wandered round the room, sipping her coffee, touching the surfaces, pulling books off the bookshelf, running her hands voluptuously down the upholstery of his chair, where his shoulders habitually rested. She brushed her cheek against the top of the tall chair.
‘Jay,’ she said aloud. All her longing was in it. All her love.
The door banged back. She looked up.
Jay stood in the doorway. She hardly recognised him. His face looked fleshless, as if he had been running. His eyes were concentrated and intent.
‘So you’re here,’ he said in a still voice.
Zoe straightened rapidly. ‘Thought I’d save you the bother of summoning me,’ she said in a bright voice.
He frowned. ‘Summoning you?’
‘You’re going to kick me out, right?’ she said, quite as if she didn’t care. ‘After Venice? House rules?’
But her heart cried, Touch me. Love me.
‘Oh, that.’ He sounded almost bored. ‘I suppose so.’
He supposed so?
‘Well, don’t give yourself a heart attack,’ said Zoe, hurt. ‘I’m sorry I have made so little impact on Culp and Christopher.’
He gave a snort of bitter laughter. ‘Culp and Christopher? What about the impact you’ve made on me?’
She stared, clutching his chair like a shield. ‘What?’
He was carrying a briefcase. He flung it away from him, into the corner of the room, as savagely as if he was launching a spear.
‘Right. You’re sacked. Satisfied?’
‘The agency—’
‘The agency will survive,’ said Jay between rigid lips. ‘I’m not sure I will.’
‘Wha-at?’
He took a hasty step forward. ‘I love you,’ he said intensely. ‘I never said that to anyone before. But I said it to you without even thinking.’
‘You—did—not.’
‘Yes, I did. I called you my love. What else do you think that was?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Or do all your men call you that?’
Zoe decided that now was not the time to ask him to define his terms. She had never seen a man closer to breaking point.
‘Well, if they did they didn’t mean it.’
‘Oh, God.’ He sounded frantic. ‘I don’t know what to do about this. Your sister says I’ve had my ration. Susan Manoir said I’d hurt you. I keep thinking I’m too old for you—’
Zoe stopped hanging onto his chair like a lifeline and stepped round the desk.
‘Why don’t you ask me?’ she said gently.
He shut his eyes. ‘Will you marry me?’
She gave a soft laugh. His eyes flew open.
‘Only on one condition,’ said Zoe, hot babe incarnate.
His eyes questioned wildly.
She laughed softly and moved in close. ‘You take me home and make love to me now.’
It was a perfect summer night. His room was huge and airy, windows open to the night-time sounds of birds and small animals. The moonlit breeze was cool on her skin, like a lover’s breath.
I know what a lover’s breath on my skin feels like now.
They had left their clothes behind them, in the hallway, on the stairs. Zoe trembled to his slightest touch.
There was only one doubt left in her mind.
‘Why did you say that it was not chance that I was a virgin?’
He curved his hand round her neck, kissing her skin with moth wing dabs. Her lips parted and her breath quickened— and he relished it.
‘Mmm?’ he said, concentrating.
‘Why did you say that it wasn’t chance?’
He paused reluctantly, though his hand started to do wickedly enticing things to her nipple.
‘Your family,’ he said, surprised. ‘When you told me about your mother it was so clear. You’d watched her collapse because your father left. You must have thought, This is grown-up stuff and I’m not ready for it. Perfectly sensible.’
‘Oh.’
Zoe was not feeling sensible. She was feeling wanton and wonderful.
She said, ‘I never thought of that. I just thought sex was mostly hormones and showing off.’