Page 34 of Taming the Beast (Fairy Tales of New York)

“Really.”

She flashed him a sudden smile and for a moment he felt blinded. “Well, that’s great.”

“I thought you’d be pleased.”

“I’m thrilled.” Then her smile faltered and she frowned. “But isn’t there a, ah, conflict of interest?”

He had no idea. There’d better not be. “I don’t believe so. I simply made the recommendation. Whether or not you’re actually added to the list depends on what they think of the wines.”

“Then thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

And that had to be that as conversation went, thought Seb, taking a step back and feeling like he could breathe again. His mouth was writing checks that were tricky to cash and he had to get out of here before it did it again.

“Right,” he said with a brusque nod and a tight smile. “Well. That’s all I came to say. I’d better be off. I’ll see you on Saturday. Noon. My place.”

And with that, he shoved his hands back into his pockets, spun on his heel and stalked off.

Chapter Eight

‡

The Sunday morning after the presentation dinner Mercy was lying in Seb’s bed while he slumbered on beside her, staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep even though it was four am and he’d done a very thorough job of wearing her out.

Something was up, was the thought rolling around her head as if on a continuous loop. Something was very definitely up. She’d arrived here on the dot of noon yesterday, ready to tell Seb all about the call she’d had with the man from the Foundation and to share her excitement that they were prepared to take on three of her wines, but before she’d managed to get a word out he’d hauled her into his arms, kissed her until her head had swum and she’d been putty in his hands and, as usual, that had been that. They’d wound up in bed and here they’d remained.

But no amount of sex – however distracting – could hide the fact that Seb seemed to be on edge. He hadn’t smiled once since she’d been here. He’d barely said a word. He’d been darkly intense, all smoldering and glowering. And while it had given the sex a sort of dangerous quality that had been so spine-tinglingly delicious she couldn’t really complain, she couldn’t work out the reason for it. Had she done something? Had he? Did it have anything to do with Wednesday night, which had been, well, weird?

She oughtn’t to want to know and she oughtn’t to care but she did because the breathing space and the perspective she’d thought she’d get by not seeing Seb last weekend hadn’t materialized. Instead she’d missed him. A lot. And had thought about him even more than she usually did, which meant that far from disengaging herself as she’d hoped, she was possibly getting even more entangled, and that was another thing that was keeping her awake because short of ending their affair which did not appeal in the slightest, she didn’t have a clue what to do about it.

Agh. This was all driving her nuts. Seb. Her. The way her responses to her checklist seemed to be shifting… Her head was throbbing and her body was restless. Sleep obviously wasn’t going to happen. Peace of mind clearly wasn’t an option. She was going to have to go for a walk.

*

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Seb woke up with a start and a hard-on, and unfortunately, he discovered when he reached for Mercy and found he was grabbing at air, nowhere to put it.

He jackknifed up and looked round, an odd stab of panic shooting through him. Where was she? Had she gone home? It wouldn’t have surprised him if she had. He hadn’t exactly been charm personified this weekend, although that was hardly the shock of the century.

He couldn’t understand himself lately. He was permanently on edge. Permanently bewildered. And he didn’t like it any more than he liked his behavior on Wednesday night.

Turning up at that reception had been an epic mistake, he reflected grimly as his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. He’d been a complete and utter idiot to have gone. Heaven only knew what Mercy had thought of his appearance, although there was no way in hell he was going to ask. She might tell him, and then he’d have to try and explain the inexplicable which would make him sound like even more of a fool.

But perhaps he ought to give himself a break, he thought, relaxing somewhat when he noticed Mercy’s watch still lying on the bedside table and realized she must be around somewhere. Perhaps he ought to just write it off and forget about it and stop beating himself up so badly. So he’d experienced a moment of weakness, a tiny lapse of control. It wasn’t as if it was going to happen again.

And it wasn’t Mercy’s fault, even though she’d borne the brunt of his filthy mood this weekend. He really ought to go and find her and apologize. Perhaps he’d entice her back to bed and set about making it up to her. And if he could manage to lose himself in her, if he could somehow stop the sickening feeling he had that everything around him was about unravel, then so much the better.

*

Ten minutes later, during which he’d pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and then prowled round the darkly silent house with increasing impatience, Seb found her.

She was standing at the door to the basement, wrapped in his dressing gown, one hand on the handle, the other clamping her cell to her ear, and as all thoughts of apologizing vaporized, he didn’t know which to react to first until she laughed softly, throatily, sexily, and then it couldn’t have been more bloody obvious.

Who the hell was she purring down the line to at this hour of the night?

“Stop it, Raf Quartermaine, really,” she murmured, and he thought, Raf? Who was this Raf? And what did he want with her? “Oh, you are wicked.”

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