Out of Hours...Her Ruthless Boss. Кейт Хьюит
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thought he hadn’t been acting. For a moment it had felt real.
Never. Never.
The ride back to the villa was quiet save for the chattering and whirring of birds and bugs as twilight gave way to a cloak of velvety darkness.
By the time they arrived, everyone was tired from a day in the sun, and Hilda arranged for trays to be brought privately to the rooms.
She patted Lizzie’s cheek in farewell. ‘We’ll see you at breakfast. All couples have their quarrels, no?’ Behind Hilda, Lizzie saw Jan frown at Cormac.
The afternoon had cost him, she supposed, in credibility. God knew it had cost her something, too.
Lizzie managed to smile rather weakly at Hilda. She was not looking forward to enforced quarters with Cormac all evening.
Back in the room, he said tersely, ‘Do you realise how dangerous that stunt you pulled was? Jan kept making remarks about how easily I’d managed to lose my wife, and Stears jumped in, saying maybe I’d never had her in the first place.’
Lizzie shrugged. ‘You obviously made up for it with that little display of husbandly concern. Jan and Hilda looked thrilled.’
He paused. ‘Yes, that was rather good, wasn’t it?’ He ran a hand through his hair and gestured towards the bathroom. ‘You can have the shower first.’ He paused again and Lizzie glanced at him, saw him frowning. ‘Then we should talk.’
She nodded, surprised and a bit wary, before gathering her things and heading for the blessed oblivion of a hot shower.
Standing under a jet of scalding water, she wondered what Cormac wanted to talk about. No doubt he was afraid she’d read something into the afternoon, something that obviously wasn’t there. She understood the afternoon had been about lust, and lust only. She didn’t need a lecture.
Yet the realisation hurt. It was stupid, because she’d known all along and yet it still hurt. She hurt.
What would have happened, she wondered, if Wendy and Dan hadn’t disturbed them? Would Cormac have taken her right there, on the hard sand?
Would she have let him?
Would she have been able to resist?
After her shower, she put on a simple shift dress in loose cotton. She exited the bathroom, combing her fingers through her damp hair, and Cormac didn’t say a word as he moved past her to take his own shower.
There was a light knock on the door and a member of staff from the kitchen brought in a tray of food.
‘Thank you,’ Lizzie murmured, and glanced down at the makings of a delicious meal—a chicken dish fragrant with cloves and banana, cornflour pancakes and a fresh fruit salad. For dessert there was coconut cream pie.
She decided to wait for Cormac to eat, even though she dreaded seeing him, talking to him. She could still hear the sounds of the shower and suddenly the room seemed too small, too hot and confined.
Lizzie threw open the shutters and gulped in a breath of fresh sea air, tangy with salt and heavy with the fragrance of frangipani and orchids.
The windows of their room looked directly out onto the beach and, without even thinking about what she was doing, Lizzie swung her legs over the low sill, landed in a flower bed and took the few short steps to the sand.
She felt better out there, under a cool night sky, the air as soft and heavy as velvet. She heard the rustle of palms in the breeze, the lap of the waves and the sound of laughter from another bedroom.
She sat down on the sand, cool and hard in the darkness, and drew her knees up to her chest, her chin resting on top.
She didn’t know how long she sat like that, her mind blessedly blank, but eventually she heard the creak of the shutters and then the sound of Cormac swinging himself over and walking across the sand.
‘What are you doing out here?’
‘Being by myself,’ she replied, and heard him sigh.
‘Chandler…’
‘People might be able to hear,’ she warned him in a low, terse voice.
‘Lizzie.’ Somehow her name on his tongue sounded so intimate. He sat down next to her, his arms resting on his knees. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
Lizzie turned and looked at him, surprised and wary. She couldn’t see much of him in the moonlight, no more than the gleam of his eyes and teeth.
‘What for?’
‘For what happened earlier,’ Cormac said.
She stiffened, shrugged. ‘Sorry? That’s not exactly a compliment.’
‘It wasn’t meant to be.’ He lifted his hand as if to touch her, then dropped it. ‘I took advantage of you,’ he began heavily, ‘and I shouldn’t have.’
Lizzie stared at him suspiciously. ‘This doesn’t sound like you.’
He shrugged lightly. ‘I’m not a monster…am I?’
‘Sometimes I wonder,’ she mumbled, and he stretched his legs out on the sand.
‘I can’t really blame you for thinking that, can I?’ he said with a sigh. ‘I dragged you into this. I didn’t give you much choice.’
Lizzie raised her eyebrows. ‘Don’t tell me you’re feeling sorry for that!’
He was silent for a long moment. ‘No…’ he finally said, his voice little more than a breath. ‘Not exactly.’ He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, let his fingers trail down her cheek.
Lizzie tried not to tremble. Not to lean into his hand. Not to show him how much she wanted him.
He already knew, anyway.
He dropped his hand, gave an awkward little smile. ‘Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I’ll stop.’
‘Stop?’ she repeated, and realised she sounded disappointed. ‘Stop what, exactly?’
‘Trying to get you into my bed.’ He gave a little laugh. ‘I want you, Lizzie. I want to make love to you. But I won’t. I know you want…you need more from me.’ He paused, and there was a tender uncertainty in his voice that made her mouth dry and her heart ache with both need and hurt. ‘I just don’t know if I can give it.’
She’d never expected this from him, and only now she realised how much she’d wanted it. Wanted him, his honesty and his kindness. Wanted someone looking at her, listening to her. Loving her. ‘Thank you for being truthful with me,’ she said after a long moment.
He inclined his head in silent acknowledgement. ‘Shall we eat?’
She nodded, and he stood up, reaching a hand out to help her up. This time she took it.
Her mind spun as they headed back to the room. He helped her over the window ledge, smiled briefly with a selfdeprecating humour that seemed entirely at odds with his careless arrogance.
Who was this man?
The real man?
The man underneath. She’d seen glimpses of him, flickers of something real. Something warm and vibrant. She realised now how much she wanted to believe there was more to Cormac than the ambition and the affairs. More than manipulation.
She wanted to believe in this.
She helped herself to the meal, then sat on the edge of the bed, her legs tucked under her.
Cormac sat in the chair opposite and dug in with gusto.
‘This is delicious,’ she murmured, trying to think of something to say, wanting to break the silence that had sprung between them, a silence of uncertainty, of possibility.
Cormac nodded in agreement. ‘Tell me about yourself,’