Page 29 of Bedding his Innocent Mistress

“Were?” She prompted, her voice thick, bracing for grief.

“He died when I was eighteen. My mother’s interest in business hadn’t grown over the years. It was an obvious choice for me to take over.”

“But you were studying?”

“The business is such that I was able to take an interest in operations regardless of my studies. I had excellent management teams.”

“That must have been a busy time.”

“It was life,” he said simply, and his hands ran up and down her exposed legs distractedly. Ivy reached for his champagne, flipping in the water as a fish out of water, and held the glass to his lips. His eyes locked with hers and a strong lurching sensation jolted her.

Ignore it.

This is just sex. Not romance. Despite the chocolates and champagne, the bath and the secrets, they were nothing more than two people who desired one another. And she was okay with that; wasn’t she?

*

Ivy stretched languidly in the enormous bed, her eyes moving heavily to the alarm clock.

“It’s late,” she said groggily. “I should go.”

“Should you?” He murmured, his fingers running over her long, dark hair.

She stifled a yawn. “Mmm, I have to be in early. The technical problems.”

“Where’s home?”

“Hammersmith.” Her eyes drifted shut and he studied her for a moment. Another yawn. “We bought a place there a few years back.”

“We?” Though he knew.

“Steve and me.” She sighed. “I have to go.”

“Stay,” he murmured quietly, a frown on his handsome face that she didn’t see.

“No.”

“My place is much closer to your work,” he pointed out logically.

“But my clothes are so much closer to my home.” She yawned once more but this time it seemed to jolt her eyes open. She lanced him, first with her stare and then with a sleepy smile. She moved quickly then, as if the thirty second cat-nap had revived her completely.

“Thanks for tonight, Rafe. It was great.”

And when she left, it was with a smile on her face, and a determination that she felt nothing in her heart. Just the way she wanted it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“I DON’T GET IT. What’s wrong with flowers?”

“He’s meant to be helping me get over Steve, not sweeping me off my feet,” Ivy snapped down the phone, staring at the monstrously gorgeous bunch of lillies that had arrived earlier that morning. How had he known they were her absolute favourite?

“You’ve spent every night this week at his house –,”

“No, I haven’t,” Ivy was quick to correct. “I’ve seen him every night this week. I’ve spent the night at my place.”

“Same difference,” And Ivy could practically hear her cousin rolling her eyes. “Did he send a card?”

“I haven’t checked. They literally just arrived. I’ve been fuming at them, and speaking to you.”

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