The Abby Green Modern Collection. ABBY GREEN
yourself for a house worth millions. The fact is you are. And I’m the fool who thinks you’re worth it.’ His words rang with bitterness and she could see a pulse beat at his temple. He obviously regretted saying too much.
She flushed a dull red. Well, she’d asked for it. And why did she feel in the wrong? Just because he was the one who had held out the tentative olive branch?
She took a gulp of water.
He leant forward. ‘But Maggie, there’s no reason why we can’t come to some mutual accord.’
She had to be careful; she was letting her vulnerable emotions run away with her. The type of woman he was used to wouldn’t bat an eyelid at what they were doing. She strove for that cool insouciance. Albeit slightly after the fact.
‘Yes. You’re right. Let’s drink to that truce again.’ She held up her glass. With narrowed, calculating eyes he clinked hers again. She smiled brilliantly, hiding the hurt. She willed the awkward feeling away and, with more aplomb and skill than she’d thought she could possibly possess, she managed to steer them into a light conversation.
As Caleb seemed to disregard her little outburst, as they talked of inconsequential matters, like a bittersweet pain, she remembered all too well how much they’d had in common, or so she had thought. How much she’d loved talking to him once. Without knowing how it happened, somehow they’d gravitated to more personal matters.
‘Do you go back to Rio much?’ The plates had been cleared and Maggie was cradling her coffee cup in one hand, feeling deliciously full. Even though they hadn’t had wine, she felt a mellow feeling snake through her bones, relaxing her. And it surprised her, how easily she’d let herself become this relaxed.
Caleb looked away for a second and something flashed over his face. ‘Not that much. Although my mother is still there, she’s busy with her new husband…’
‘You mentioned him before, didn’t you? Isn’t he—’
‘The same age as me.’ He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Yes. And he has lots of money for her to be kept in the style to which she’s accustomed.’
Maggie tried desperately to keep things light. ‘Well, you have to admit, for feminists out there, it’s a nice reversal. Usually it’s the other way around, an old man with a woman no older than his own daughter.’
There was tension for a second and then Caleb smiled. ‘You’re right. You’d probably like her, you know. She’s very forthright, very outspoken.’
She felt suddenly shy at the thought of meeting his mother, but knew he hadn’t meant it like that, literally. If anything, it was more likely to be a cloaked insult.
‘Is…is your father still in England?’
He nodded as he took a sip of coffee, ‘Yes. He’s in Brighton, so I get down there whenever I can.’ There was none of the tension in his voice when talking about his father. Maggie guessed he had a very fraught relationship with his mother and remembered him telling her before about how his parents had fought over him as a boy, having divorced when he’d been only three or four. He’d been shunted back and forth between Brazil and the UK for years.
‘But you’re living in London? Or you were…’ She couldn’t say the words, six months ago.
He nodded briefly. ‘I have an apartment there and one in Rio, New York, Paris…but I’m never in one place long enough to call it home…’
At that moment he caught her eyes and they were clouded with some indefinable emotion; it reached out across the table and made him suddenly feel the need for something he’d never felt before. Maggie cut into his disturbing thoughts, echoing them.
‘I can’t imagine that. All the years we lived in London, Ireland was always our home. Somewhere to come back to…’
A refuge from terror. Dublin had always been too boring for Tom. He’d never stayed long and her happiest times had been during her Irish boarding school years whenever he’d let her mother stay…which had usually been when he was off on a holiday with one of his many mistresses.
‘Is that where you’ll stay now?’
She dragged her attention back and nodded. ‘I’d like to. We’ve been home for six months—’
‘Six months?’ He was sharp. Maggie coloured guiltily and wondered frantically if she’d let her guard down too much. But what could that possibly tell him?
She picked her words carefully. ‘Mum wanted to come home, so I came back with her to settle her in…’
His eyes were narrowed on her face. Intense. ‘So you left London six months ago?’
Maggie nodded.
Caleb studied her. There was a kernel of something there; he was sure of it. But he couldn’t figure what it was. Tom must have sent her away, fearing that Caleb might somehow come after her. Protection. The thought made him feel that impotent rage again. At her betrayal, at his own weakness for her. He made a huge effort to put it out of his mind. They’d agreed to a truce. ‘You’re close to your mother?’
Maggie, relieved that he’d let the London focus go, nodded emphatically. She was unaware of the protective gleam that lit her eyes, making them almost luminous. Caleb’s breath stopped; she looked radiant. The sun had already given her pale skin a warm glow, freckles that made him want to reach out and touch. Her top hinted at the valley between her breasts. A tendril of red-gold hair had drifted over one shoulder and curled tantalisingly close to her breast. This was crazy; he felt jealous…of some hair? He shifted on his seat, his body throbbing. Tonight, he vowed, a steady pulse of anticipation and desire beating through his blood…
A short while later, making their way back to the hotel, Caleb casually took Maggie’s hand in his. She felt tiny and feminine next to his much larger build. He threaded his fingers through hers and she was on very shaky legs by the time they returned. He turned to face her. She looked up, meeting his eyes. The sun was behind him, dazzling her.
He was going to kiss her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. If she tried…he’d wonder why and that would lead them down a dangerous path. Their mutual attraction was undeniable—always had been. He wouldn’t understand her fear…He had her pegged as someone far more sophisticated in these matters. This was a simple transaction for him and no doubt he imagined it was the same for her. She couldn’t afford to appear anything less than willing from now on. For as long as he desired her. And she knew that as terrified as she was of the response he evoked in her physically, it was the emotional minefield at the other end that worried her most.
He pulled her close into his body with one arm, his other hand cradling her head and threading through the silky strands of her hair. His mouth touched hers.
With flames of desire licking along every vein, Maggie finally gave in and, for the first time since seeing him again, even though they’d already kissed, she kissed him back. With full consciousness. Because, despite everything, she wanted to. Because she couldn’t not. This was as necessary to her as breathing. Her mind fought a pathetic battle for a few seconds; it must be the surroundings…the feeling that somehow they were not in the real world, that was making her behave like this…She just couldn’t help it.
With a moan of approval, he felt her tacit acquiescence and tightened the embrace. His tongue sought hers and sweetly stroked and explored and plundered. Maggie gave into powerful desire and slid her hands up his arms. She could feel the bunched muscle under the thin material of his shirt and desperately wanted to be able to feel the silky skin, explore the texture of his muscles, feel how they shifted…changed contours as he held her.
When he finally lifted his head, he pressed another quick kiss to her mouth as though he was loath to let her go. Maggie felt dizzy and light-headed. The only thing holding her upright was his arm anchoring her to him. She hated herself for this; he had her exactly where he wanted her. Acquiescent and pliant, in his arms. And there was nothing she could