Living With The Enemy. Laura Martin
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held you because you needed comfort,’ Alex replied crisply. ‘You seemed glad of it at the time.’
‘You seem to imagine too much!’ Lucy flashed. ‘I was confused, that’s all. I wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe I do need someone to hold me, but not you! Never someone like you!’
‘Someone like me?’ She saw the line of his jaw harden, the dark eyes narrow as he repeated her words. ‘What are you talking about?’ He walked towards her. No menace in his steps, just an irrepressible intent. ‘Lucy, calm down! Working yourself up like this is not the right thing to do, believe me.’
‘I...I’m not worked up,’ Lucy asserted weakly, conscious as she took a faltering step backwards of the roughness of the stone wall behind her. ‘You can’t do this to me!’
Dark brows were raised quizzically. ‘Do what?’ he enquired, frowning. ‘What is it I can’t do?’
‘You know,’ Lucy whispered, watching as jet-black eyes lingered on her face. ‘You know very well.’
‘No, Lucy, I don’t.’ He shook his head slowly, looking at her with eyes that held humiliating puzzlement. Then his expression cleared and he added softly, ‘It was just a platonic hug. Nothing to worry about.’
‘I know, I know!’ Lucy’s denial was a fraction too swift, a fraction too unsteady.
‘But you wanted it to be something more? Is that what’s worrying you? Look, it’s nothing to be ashamed about,’ Alex insisted smoothly, watching Lucy’s rigid face. ‘We all have different needs, different ways of coping. You shouldn’t feel guilty about the way your body reacts. Is that why you pulled away and fled like a scared rabbit?’ He reached out and touched her cheek with the palm of his hand. ‘Is it?’
‘You are so arrogant!’ Lucy snapped, jerking away from his touch. ‘What makes you think I would ever want to—?’
‘I was talking hypothetically,’ Alex cut in sharply. ‘Sexual needs don’t always vanish into thin air because a partner dies. You still want your husband, you miss the physical side of your relationship; it happens.’
Lucy muttered an incoherent curse beneath her breath. He didn’t understand. He thought like all the rest—that she still yearned for Paul, still wanted him here beside her. The truth was that Paul had been the furthest thing from her mind when Alex had held her. ‘You sound like a psychiatrist! ’ Lucy murmured unsteadily. ‘Thank you, but I had more than enough analysis at the hospital!’
‘Lucy!’ Something in his tone made her take notice.
She glanced across and frowned. ‘What?’
Alex didn’t speak immediately. Lucy saw a flicker of indecision cross the angular features and wondered whether he was about to tell her that maybe she should leave, that it probably was for the best that they called a halt to the arrangement here and now. ‘I’m not the sort of man who plays games; you need have no fear of that.’
Lucy kept her gaze as steady as she could. ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’
More hesitation. More intrigue. There was something he seemed to want to say—something difficult maybe... ‘I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.’ Dark eyes held hers with magnetic force and Lucy knew that she couldn’t look away even if she wanted to. ‘Charles sent you here because he trusts me,’ Alex continued, in deep, vibrant tones. ‘I want you to trust me, too.’
‘I’m not very good at trusting people,’ Lucy replied stiffly. ‘I trusted Paul and—’ She halted abruptly, conscious that she had a need to confide again.
‘And what?’
‘Please!’ She shook her head and stared up at Alex imploringly. ‘I really don’t want to talk about it.’
‘I’m pushing too hard.’ He smiled—a warm, relaxed curve of his mouth that sent Lucy’s pulse racing all over again. ‘Sorry.’
She had a choice: keep it polite and cool, so that Alex was left in no doubt about how she wanted things to proceed, or try and make an effort, show him that underneath the panic she could respond like a perfectly sane and happy human being.
‘Again?’ she murmured. There was a hint of a smile, a slight lifting of an eyebrow. It had been the right choice; somehow the tension melted away.
“Fraid so.’ Dark eyes sparkled magnetically, and Lucy found her smile widening, despite everything that had gone before. ‘That’s better. You know...that smile...’ Alex raised a hand, as if to touch the very thing which he was talking about, and Lucy held her breath, watching his compelling face in fascination, her emerald eyes glued to the taut, dynamic features.
The tension was back, or had it never gone away? Would he touch her mouth? Would he?
It seemed not. A firm line replaced the smile; the stunning eyes grew dark and daunting. Alex lowered his hand suddenly and turned away. ‘I’ll make a start on dinner!’ he informed her with crisp precision. He walked away towards the kitchen. ‘Why don’t you go upstairs and get changed?’
‘I could help.’ Lucy followed him through the stone archway and down the steps, watching as he opened cupboards and drawers with angry, jerky movements.
‘It’s OK.’
‘But I don’t mind, honestly! It will be nice for me to do something constructive for a change—’
‘Didn’t you hear what I said?’ Alex turned and faced Lucy and there was brutal impatience in his expression. ‘I don’t need your help.’ He breathed in and Lucy saw the effort he needed to school his features into milder lines. ‘Honestly. This is your first night here, so I’ll do the work. Maybe tomorrow. How about that?’
‘There’s no need to speak to me as if I’m a child.’ Lucy’s voice was quiet but full of intensity. ‘I’ll go upstairs,’ she added swiftly, forestalling any reply. ‘As you ordered.’
The loggia—a wonderful open-sided balcony that in daytime afforded breathtaking views of the lush green hills and the distant, sparkling blue sea beyond—was the sort of place you saw in glossy magazines.
It was still very warm, despite the lateness of the hour. Lucy took some salad from the bowl that Alex was holding out to her and busied herself with arranging the crisp green leaves on her plate.
He looked even more sensational than before. He had showered and changed since preparing dinner and now he was wearing a pristine white shirt and cream trousers which emphasised the deepness of his tan and the glossy darkness of his hair.
‘So, how do you plan to spend tomorrow?’ he asked.
Lucy tried to keep her voice suitably neutral. ‘Oh, just lazing around, I suppose.’ She deliberately avoided eye contact, concentrating instead on buttering a crusty roll. ‘A walk, perhaps; a dip in the pool—if it’s all right with you, of course,’ she added hurriedly.
‘Fine. Do whatever you wish,’ Alex replied evenly. ‘You have the run of the place whilst you’re here, so you may as well make the most of it.’
‘Thank you.’
‘My pleasure.’
Lucy got the impression that he was laughing at her, although when she risked a glance his gaze was perfectly impassive. Their eyes met and Lucy looked down hurriedly. She felt dreadfully self-conscious under Alex Darcy’s vibrant eyes—uncertain, unsure of herself in relation to him.
After months of not caring how she looked, she had this evening found the inclination to arrange her long auburn tresses into a more sophisticated style, tying her long, fiery hair with a bright yellow silk scarf so that it fell in thick waves over one shoulder. Lucy adjusted the strap of her sundress self-consciously. It was a plain garment, but the simple lines suited her slender figure, and the pale lemon of the fabric