CHAPTER TWELVE

      GUY maintained a simmering silence all the way home, even after they’d left Khalim back at his hotel and the chauffeur had dropped them back at the flat.

      In fact, he waited until he’d slammed the front door behind them. He didn’t have many neighbours, it was true, but the ones he did have had known him for years. And would probably have gone into extreme shock if they’d heard Guy Masters yelling at a woman, which was exactly what he felt like doing.

      ‘Are you mad?’ he demanded.

      ‘And are you lacking in any social graces?’ Sabrina returned hotly.

      ‘You spent the whole night simpering up to Khalim!’

      ‘Only because you could hardly bring yourself to say a civil word to me—and I was not simpering!’

      He steadied his breath. Stay calm, he told himself. Stay calm. This wasn’t like him at all. ‘Do you have any idea of that man’s reputation with women?’

      Sabrina met his eyes with dignity. ‘He seemed quite the gentleman—’

      ‘Quite the gentleman?’ he repeated faintly.

      ‘Besides, I thought he was your friend.’

      He heard the rebuke in her voice. ‘He is my friend! He also has a legendary libido. Legendary. I can’t believe that you’d be so naïve, Sabrina.’ And he pictured the two of them together, and the black dagger of jealousy cut into him and sent the words spilling out before he could stop them. ‘You weren’t so naïve when…’ But the words died as soon as he saw the look on her face.

      ‘When what, Guy?’ she asked coldly.

      ‘Nothing.’

      But she wasn’t going to let this one rest. ‘Oh, yes—something,’ she contradicted furiously. ‘Perhaps you think that if I go out with Khalim, I’ll fall straight into bed with him. That he will be able to seduce me with the same ease as you did.’

      He saw the hurt which clouded her ice-blue eyes and his mouth tightened. ‘That’s not what I said.’

      ‘It’s what you meant, though, isn’t it? Well, damn you, Guy Masters, if that’s your opinion of me, then there’s no point me saying any more, is there? You obviously think I’m a tramp!’ And she stalked off down to her bedroom, trembling with rage and distress.

      He watched her go, fighting down the urge to run after her because he knew what the only outcome would be if he confronted her when emotions were running so high. God, he’d barely been able to watch Khalim coming on to her all night. And yet with his jealousy he’d offended her. Deeply.

      But the time for reconciliation would be in the cold, clear light of logical thinking, not now—not when he was aching for her so badly that if he got within touching distance of her he would just want to haul her into his arms and crush his mouth down on hers and…Stifling a groan, he went off to take a much-needed shower.

      Sabrina spent a restless night and woke up remembering the scene of the night before. And Guy’s appalling insinuations. She turned onto her side and gazed sightlessly up at the wall, wondering if those heated words should change things.

      She could leave and go back to Salisbury now. Today, if she really wanted to. Maybe that was what a sane, sensible person would do. The trouble was that she felt neither particularly sane nor particularly sensible. She wanted…

      She turned onto her other side and stared at the exercise bike, which was now positioned underneath the window. What did she want?

      Most of her wanted Guy, with a growing love she hardly dared to acknowledge—but what did Guy want?

      Nothing, it would appear.

      Oh, she suspected that he still felt desire for her—she wasn’t stupid. She had seen that unmistakable darkening of his eyes, the sudden tension of his body when she’d been close to him sometimes. He certainly wasn’t immune to her—but neither did he seem to want to do anything about it.

      She sighed. Perhaps she should just be grateful that he was behaving like such a gentleman. Her mother would be pleased.

      There was a rap on the door, and a voice called out softly, ‘Sabrina? Are you awake?’

      ‘I am now!’ she replied acidly.

      Behind the door, Guy smiled. ‘I’m making breakfast.’

      ‘What do you want—a medal?’

      ‘Just your company.’

      She pushed the duvet back and stepped out of bed. What was the point in sulking, and pretending she hated him? If she intended to stay—and she did—she couldn’t behave like a petulant child simply because he’d lost his temper with her last night. ‘You’ll have to wait until I’m showered and dressed,’ she said.

      Guy gave another wry smile. The trouble was that he liked it when she started laying down the law. And it was novel enough to be very, very stimulating. ‘Don’t take too long.’

      ‘Then go away and leave me to it.’

      ‘Yes, Sabrina,’ he murmured.

      She appeared dressed and showered twenty minutes later, to find that he’d put a crisp white cloth on the dining-room table and there were freshly squeezed juice, warm croissants and different jams. And he was sitting, barefooted, in jeans and a T-shirt, reading a newspaper.

      He looked up as she came in and their eyes met.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and forced himself to behave like a calm and rational human being instead of some kind of jealous monster. ‘I had absolutely no right to talk to you like that. Whether or not you choose to go out with Khalim is entirely up to you.’

      ‘You’re absolutely right,’ Sabrina agreed coolly as she sat down opposite him and picked up a napkin. ‘It is.’

      It was not the answer he’d been expecting. Or wanted. But he forced himself to smile. ‘I’m going into the office for a couple of hours,’ he said.

      ‘But it’s Sunday!’ She pouted disapprovingly.

      ‘Princess,’ he said grimly, because much more of this and he really might lose his head. Or something even more dangerous. Like his heart.