Page 77 of Bride Under Contract

‘There are some desert abodes he wants me to look at.’ He shook his head. ‘They look pre-biblical.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Apparently so. Sahir thinks they’ll work better than a tent for his retreats.’ He went to the safe to collect his passport. ‘I’m going to—’ He halted, suddenly feeling the silk of the pouch, then just grabbed his passport and turned around. ‘It depends how quickly the council decide. I’d better go.’

‘Sure.’

He picked up the plans and she pursed her lips as the man who had made such thorough love to her last night went to walk out through the door.

And then she reminded herself of his warning that they would never be close. She lay back on the pillow, feeling the tension in her own lips, holding back from telling him that she expected...

What did she expect? Grace chided herself.

Better than this!

And Grace was suddenly angry. She wasn’t asking for love, or affection, just for him not to leave her feeling discarded.

Grace pulled on her robe and ventured out of the bedroom, saw the breakfast waiting for her. Bypassing it, she wrenched open the door.

‘Carter...’

He was standing at the elevator when she walked down to him in her robe, still tying it.

‘What?’

‘You forgot something?’

He frowned. Had the audacity to check the inside pocket of his jacket.

‘Back in the suite,’ Grace said, her voice shaking with anger.

Because if he thought they could make love all night and then he did not even have to tell her his return date on the way out, then he could forget it.

‘I get that it’s a sham,’ Grace told him, before the elevator doors closed, ‘but if you don’t want things to fall apart in the bedroom very quickly, then you’d better damn well learn how to say goodbye properly.’

‘Poor Grace...’ He had the audacity to smile. ‘You want a kiss?’

‘Not especially.’ She stared at him. ‘But I do expect basic manners.’

He made two kissing noises. ‘See you soon, my darling...’ he mocked, turning to go.

But possibly he then saw her furious eyes, because he bent his head and kissed her hard, forcing her lips apart, pulling her in.

‘Better?’

‘Screw you.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Neither of us are getting screwed, Grace. I have a long flight, and an important series of meetings. I haven’t got the head space to play happy families in the morning, and don’t expect me to come back bearing flowers.’ He held up his hands in exasperation. ‘What do you want? For me to pretend?’

‘No.’

‘To lie?’

‘That’s the last thing I want. I never want you to lie.’

She felt stupid. For pulling on the robe and running after him. And for not understanding that the intimacy they’d shared at night could be gone by morning. How, like a conjurer, he could whip away the cloth and leave everything standing.

Only the cloth was her heart, and she was starting to realise that she didn’t know how to give it one moment and claim it back the next. Make love with him at night and be roommates by day.

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