She gave a gasp of outrage. ‘You were right!’ Had he no shame?
‘I feel much better now we’ve sorted that out,’ he confessed with a sigh. ‘I was wondering how I was going to bite the bullet and tell you I’m actually quite respectable. I was hoping my disreputable appearance didn’t account for all of the attraction, and if you have a thing about leather…’
‘Respectable!’ she choked incredulously. ‘Am I supposed to believe you’d ever have remembered me except as an amusing story to relate over dinner?’
‘Oh, believe it,’ he said, placing his chin in one cupped hand that rested on the chair-back. Suddenly he wasn’t laughing at all. Rachel thought the expression in his eyes should have carried a government health warning; happily she was immune to shallow flattery. She could be objective about the ripple of movement in her belly and the rash of gooseflesh that erupted over her hot skin.
‘It also makes it all much simpler to ask you out to dinner,’ he added cheerfully.
‘I’ll speak slowly and clearly because I can now see my first impression of you was correct…’
‘What was your first impression?’
‘Muscularly overdeveloped and intellectually undeveloped—a beautiful imbecile!’ she flared in a goaded voice. She realised too late the revealing nature of this confession. ‘I have a fiancé,’ she hurried on swiftly. ‘I don’t date other men.’
‘I don’t see a ring,’ he remarked sceptically.
‘We have an understanding.’
‘He didn’t seem to understand you too well the other night. Nice bloke, no doubt, but a bit lacking in the imagination department.’
Of all the arrogant, impossible… ‘For your information Nigel is very imaginative,’ she spat back.
‘I’m happy for you,’ he said solemnly. Confused, Rachel stared back. ‘A good sex life is important.’
‘I didn’t mean Nigel is imaginative in bed!’ She hated knowing he’d made her flush to the roots of her hair.
‘I didn’t really think he was,’ Benedict responded, nodding sympathetically.
The blood was pounding in her ears. ‘Nigel is worth ten of you!’
‘That’s being a bit severe,’ he remonstrated. ‘I did detect the very early stages of a paunch, but that’s to be expected in men of a certain age. He seemed very well preserved to me. Tell me, are your parents still alive?’
This apparently inexplicable change of subject tipped the balance away from inarticulate fury and towards confusion. ‘No, they’re not; my aunt Janet brought me up.’ Janet French had been there all her life and the recent loss of the lady with the indomitable spirit still hurt badly.
‘An all-female household,’ he said triumphantly. ‘I thought so, and now there’s just you and Charlie. You’re looking for a father substitute, not a lover, Rachel.’
‘Lame-brained psycho-babble.’ Her lip curled with genuine scorn. ‘This is sexual harassment.’
‘This is mutual attraction; we both knew that from the moment we set eyes on each other. If I wasn’t a gentleman I’d have done more than kiss you goodnight. Only I wanted to know if the attraction wasn’t totally the forbidden fruit thing. I see now it isn’t.’
‘Your ego is unbelievable!’ she gasped. ‘I wouldn’t have you if you came gift-wrapped.’
‘Is that a fetishist thing? he enquired. ‘Because I have to tell you I’m not really into that sort of thing.’
‘And I’m not into smutty innuendo!’
‘If you prefer, we’ll keep our personal and professional relationship strictly separate. That’s fine by me. A freak set of coincidences is the only reason this conversation is taking place in the work environment. We needed to clear the air.’
And he thought the atmosphere was clear! The only thing that was clear to her was that she ought to keep her dealings with Benedict Arden to a minimum.
‘We don’t have a personal relationship,’ she felt impelled to point out.
He was persistent; you had to give him that. If her circumstances had been different she might even have been flattered. Be honest, Rachel, he is extraordinarily attractive, she told herself.
If she’d been a carefree, single thirty-year-old, who knew? Temptation might have overcome good sense. But she wasn’t. She had a child, responsibilities. She didn’t act on impulse—she couldn’t act on impulse. She’d done that once when she was a naive nineteen-year-old and she knew all about consequences—not that she’d ever regretted the decision to keep her child.