Page 46 of Bedding his Innocent Mistress

“Yeah, well, I can’t explain it. It’s how he felt.”

“And you,” Rafe pounced. “You were still in love with him?”

Ivy stabbed the eggs but she didn’t lift the fork. “I don’t know,” she said finally, the truth difficult to process. “I mean, yes, I was. That night was… one of the worst of my life,” she said honestly, a shudder dancing down her spine. But it’s more complicated than that.” She sighed. “I loved him, and he was a part of me, and I was used to him. It wasn’t love like…” she searched for words. “It wasn’t a passionate, romantic love,” she said finally, feeling disloyalty clog her. “It was deeper than that.”

“Deeper than passion?” Rafe pushed, his disbelief obvious.

“You wouldn’t understand.” Ivy breathed out.

“Perhaps not.” His smile was perfunctory. “In any event, his loss is my gain.”

“I guess so.” She stood without eating, cast a look in Rafe’s general direction. An unease was taking hold of Ivy. Perhaps it was talking about Steve, or maybe it was the fact that she and Rafe had shared so much that felt special and unique and the knowledge that it was temporary and short-lived made her feel hollowed out somehow.

“Excuse me.” She turned away from the table, making her way through the apartment with her head dipped forward.

Rafe watched her disappear and linked his fingers behind his head, exhaling angrily, tension making his eyes narrow. He’d never known a woman as contrary as Ivy Hennesy. When she was in his arms and his bed, she was his. Utterly and completely. But the second they sat down and tried to have a conversation, she pulled away from him.

He stood up restlessly, strolling towards the glass that faced out over the Thames. The morning was bleak. Grey and cold.

He thought of his home in Spain with a wave of home sickness. The beach would be clear, the sand white, the grapes spindly and heavy with their offering, ready for harvest. Even now in Autumn, the sun would have enough warmth to heat his skin.

And then, Ivy was there. In a bathing costume, on the beach, her smile broad, her eyes laughing.

Christ.

Was it just the allure of the unattainable that was driving him crazy?

Or was it her? Ivy?

He turned as she entered and everything blew out of his mind.

The negligee.

“I didn’t bring any other clothes,” she said with such magnificent shyness he wanted to rush to her and pull her into his arms. To kiss away the doubts that furrowed her brow and made her drop her eyes to the ground.

“Your coat?”

“Yeah.” She turned around, looking for where it had been discarded the night before. He saw it first, and lifted it, walking towards her and holding it for her to step into it.

“I’ll have Raul drive you,” he said, putting a step between them.

“I can catch a cab,” she responded bleakly.

His eyes narrowed. Was she upset? Close to tears? Damn it, why couldn’t he fathom her emotions?

“Fine.” His expression was masked, his features set. “If you’d like.”

Ivy didn’t want to contemplate what she’d like. She forced an overbright smile to her face. “Thank you again for last night.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “No thanks is necessary.” He pressed his finger beneath her chin, lifting her to face him. “I’ll call tomorrow.”

She nodded, but her heart was splintering. No invitation to come over? Just the promise of the call? Was this the beginning of the end?

“Great.” The smile was so tight it was going to crack. “We’ll speak then.” She lifted up on tiptoes and went to press a kiss against his cheek, but he turned his face at the last minute, kissing her instead, his mouth on hers driving doubt and grief from her mind.

For a second, it was perfect. Everything. What they were, what he was.

And then he stepped backwards. And it was over.

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