Page 68 of Masquerade

“Your room has more appeal. Your guest room is a carbon copy of any chain of three-star hotels, all matching drapes, bedspreads and lamp shades.”

“You didn’t warm to the assembly-line vibe.” He was leading her towards his room. If the conventional, besuited Liam in his charmless apartment worried her, he was more than happy to make changes to keep her in his arms for longer. Stopping in the doorway, he turned her into his arms. “Will I do?” He brushed his lips across hers, waiting for her soft moan. Her moan always undid him.

“Yes,” she murmured.

––––––––

Another night arrivingto an empty apartment. Liam didn’t need the darkness to tell him. The sensation of nothing and no one waiting for him carried its own stench. In the bedroom he sniffed the air, seeking Kate’s evocative scent, as determined as any drug hound seeking forbidden treasure. Her fragrance lingered in his room after Kate showered and left each morning—a tangible link to her. Absorbing her perfume had become part of his day’s routine. Her scent had long since evaporated, and a vague sense of unease clouded his thoughts. She’d said she’d be here.

Pushing a hand through his hair, he wandered back to the kitchen.

Was he crazy to think she was withdrawing from him? In the week since they’d returned from the North Coast, she’d retreated into the isolation she’d claimed suited her.

She’d used her spare key once. He’d arrived in time to prevent her fleeing.

Missing her was making his mind play tricks. He pulled a frozen curry from the fridge. Pre-Kate, he’d binge cooked and frozen meals on Sunday afternoons. Dinner on work nights was often late and hurried. This week, he’d been working long hours and frozen meals and takeaway had slipped into his routine with Kate. He hadn’t offered much romance. Hell, they were only having an affair.

“Stupid eejit,” he cursed aloud. “Even affairs need romance.”

When his intercom sounded, relief spun him around. Kate’s grainy image appeared on the security panel linked to the front door. Dressed in her familiar dark skirt and one of her bulky sweaters, her hair was neatly piled on her head, and the large, fake glasses were perched on her nose. The prickling anxiety she wouldn’t show up melted away, to be followed by the realisation he wasn’t ready for her to leave his life.

He buzzed her into the building, then pushed open his front door to watch the elevator rise through the floors. Scooping her up, he swung her through the door, the flowery notes of her Givenchy scent overlaid with end-of-the-day sweat and woman. She was real. Holding Kate made his blood quicken and his soul quieten.

“Sorry I’m late.” She held his hand on the way to the kitchen, her preferred space in the apartment.

“Ten minutes. Long enough to defrost, not heat through.” He reached for the rice cooker, spooned in enough rice for two people, added water and set it going. “I made it a few weeks ago. Would you like a drink?”

She sniffed the air. “If that’s a curry, I’ll have a beer, please.”

“Guinness or a lager?”

“A lager.” She placed glasses on the kitchen counter, then wrapped her fingers around the bottom of her charcoal sweater in preparation for peeling it off.

“You’ll need your sweater.” The muted colour emphasised the brilliance of her eyes. “It’s too cold to eat outside, but should be okay for a drink.” Liam poured their beers and gestured towards the door.

“Busy day?” She settled beside him on the wooden bench. Then tilted her head to take a sip before her gaze met his. “How are negotiations going?”

“You’ll be interested to know...” Liam took a mouthful of beer to draw her anticipation out, then broke his day down for her before asking about hers. Small gestures gave away her disquiet. She drew a finger through the condensation on the outside of the glass, inhaled slowly and then exhaled on a puff of air, preparing to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.

“That’s the timer for the rice. Time to go in.” He leaned into her shoulder when she didn’t move. “Spit it out.”

“I’m sitting here until spring arrives.” She was only half-serious, slipping a hand into his and letting him draw her to her feet.

“Do you hate the apartment so much?” Liam ushered her into the kitchen and closed the door behind them.

She shivered, and not just because the open door had sucked cool air into the kitchen. He recognised her expression from those photos he’d seen of her with her parents. Slightly impatient, annoyed at her lack of control and trying to pretend everything was fine.

“Hate’s a very strong word.” She pushed at air as if pushing something unpleasant away from her.

“Give me a better one.” He served the meal and set hers in front of her.

“Ignore me.” She forced a smile. “I spent a few hours with someone who could have done your interior design today, and it’s made me curse the entire breed.”

“Why do you need an interior designer?” He took the bait.

“I’m trying to organise a green room in the library.” She sampled a mouthful of spicy Indian curry. “This is good.”

He nodded acknowledgement. “What? Hydroponics?”

---