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‘No. A sweet, sensitive man who’ll love me unconditionally. A kind, gentle soul who needs me.’
‘A pushover.’
Olivia gave him the hardest look she could. ‘You are a cynical man, Edward Winchester. And you don’t have a romantic bone in that great big—’ surprisingly lean and muscular ‘—body of yours.’
A waiter walked past and she reached out to grab another glass of champagne, downing it in one long sip. All the time, Edward watched her.
‘Life is not a romance novel, Olivia. It’s about work and responsibility and doing what you’re supposed to.’
Olivia sighed again. She knew that. She knew it. But she wished life was like a romance novel. She wished there was someone—anyone—who would be willing to love her despite her faults. But she knew that was impossible.
They stood silently, largely ignored by the milling crowd.
‘I know,’ she said suddenly. ‘Why don’t you help me?’ Another waiter wandered past and Olivia grabbed another glass. ‘You seem the type to think things through. Weigh up the alternatives. Make sensible decisions. Maybe you can figure out why everyone always leaves me.’
SIX
Edward looked down at the big blue eyes that were blinking up at him. They were smothered in black eye shadow. She looked like a raccoon. Lost, tipsy and desperate. Three attributes that should make him want to run a mile. Earlier she’d been hard and challenging. Now she seemed needy. It was an intoxicating combination and it brought out something primitive in him. Some protective gene he was sure was purely practical and had nothing to do with the fact that he found her big blue eyes increasingly irresistible.
He had been drawn to her all night, his body on alert when she moved, when she laughed, and when her eyes turned to scan the room. And to be honest he wasn’t sure why. She was abrasive and unpredictable and silly, but there was a sweetness to her that, combined with her captivating sexiness, made her hard to ignore.
And now she wanted him to be honest. To find her flaws and tell them to her. Dangerous. He knew from experience that people didn’t really want to know. People liked being in their little cocoons.
‘Perhaps we should discuss this outside.’ She was swaying on her feet and his uncle-with-the-wandering-hands seemed to be looking their way and licking his lips. The thought of that dirty old man’s hands on her was making him sick.
This time she didn’t fight him. She let him lead her outside and he whisked the champagne glass out of her hands on the way out—swiftly relieving a passing waiter of a glass of water at the same time.
On the terrace, it was cold. The blackness amplified by the new moon that hung grey and high in the sky. Edward closed the doors behind them to block out the noise of voices. When he turned Olivia was leaning over the balcony, looking up to the sky. Her short dress had risen up so high he could see the curve of her buttocks. He quickly averted his eyes and shrugged off his jacket. She must be freezing.
‘The saucepan is upside down.’
Not for the first time Edward found himself intrigued by this woman. What was she talking about now? He moved closer and gently put his jacket around her shoulders, placing the glass of water on the edge of the brick terrace. He moved slowly and silently. He didn’t want to spook her.
Those two great pillocks who’d been plying her with booze had been all over her. When he’d seen them with Olivia he’d known what they were doing. And he’d also known Olivia was in no state to be left alone with them.
Olivia shifted and looked at him as he placed the jacket around her shoulders, but she didn’t throw it off.
‘Why is the saucepan upside down?’ With her strange words she pointed to the sky.
‘The saucepan?’
‘There. See the three stars in a row and the handle? It’s upside down.’
Edward tilted his head. It did look like a saucepan. But it wasn’t. It was the constellation Orion.
‘That’s Orion, the great warrior. The three stars make up his belt.’
‘The great warrior,’ she murmured. ‘Like you.’
Her words were a little slurred and her limbs were loose. Jet lag and champagne were a toxic combination. Prone to make you do and say things you shouldn’t. Which was why he always stopped at one drink.
‘I’m no warrior.’
‘Yes, you are. You saved me from those buffoons.’
‘I thought you were having fun.’ He moved closer. She looked cold. He wanted to warm her up.
Olivia turned to him as she laughed and he held his breath. She’d smiled before, but not like this. He found himself irresistibly smiling back at her. She moved a little closer to him but turned back to the sky. He watched her. Her long eyelashes blinked and a dimple sank into her cheek. She shifted so her chin was resting on her shoulder and turned to look at him. That smile again. He had to move. He’d hardened in an instant.
‘I was. I like to have fun.’
She blinked at him and he moved even closer, letting his shoulder rest against hers. Just in case she fell. He heard her suck in a breath, and she looked down at his shoulder before lifting those big eyes to him. Her lips parted and he almost forgot where he was and, for a moment, who he was.
Her hair was wild around her face and her eyes were glancing at his lips. His entire body went hard and he couldn’t move. He watched as she licked her full, bouncy lips. This woman was dangerous. One of those women who made you forget. But he couldn’t forget. He could never forget.
He had to say something.
‘“The stroke of midnight ceases,”’ he recited. ‘“And I lie down alone. The rainy Pleiades wester, And seek beyond the sea, The head that I shall dream of, That will not dream of me.”’
Edward felt Olivia’s eyes on him.
‘What was that? A poem? You recite poetry?’ She laughed at him and looked away. ‘For someone who is not a romantic that sounded suspiciously romantic, Eddie.’
‘That’s not romantic. It’s extremely unromantic. The man in that poem is dreaming of a woman who isn’t dreaming of him. That’s not romantic. It’s foolish.’
And you’re being foolish, he reminded himself as he dragged his eyes away from her plump lips. Kissing someone like Olivia would not help. Dragging a woman into his life was not something he could do. Especially not a fun-loving, free-spirited woman like Olivia. She’d hate it, and she’d resent him and they’d both end up unhappy. He moved away, put some distance between them so he could no longer feel the warmth of her skin or smell her cinnamon scent.
‘The man who wrote that is not foolish. He’s romantic. Wistful.’ Olivia sighed and looked back to the sky.
Edward noticed she’d pulled his jacket closer.
‘Probably not a man. Probably a woman. Dreaming of finding someone she can never hope to find.’
A rush of sympathy invaded his bones. She sounded so sad. So unlike the angry woman in the car or in the drawing room, threatening that she hadn’t ‘finished’ with him.
‘Then you fill your life with something else,’ he said softly.
He could feel her pain. Olivia sounded confused. He suspected she didn’t know what she wanted. She needed someone strong. Someone to take care of her. Edward’s shoulders stiffened. Definitely not him. He caused pain; he didn’t relieve it. That realisation poured a stream of cold water over him.
‘You should strive for something that will give you back exactly what you put into it.’
‘Like what?’
‘Work. Exercise.’
‘You exercise?’
‘I run. Every day.’
‘Me too.’
That magnetic smile lit her face again and it hit him in the chest. Then her face fell.
‘I hate it, though. It gives me too much time to think. And it hurts.’
‘So why do you do it?’
She faced him and ran her hand seductively from her breasts to her thigh. It sent a shiver straight through him and he stood to attention again. Her garish purple dress peeked through his jacket and the flashes of the skin on her chest and her legs were making him sweat, even as the night chill wound around him.
‘This body don’t come cheap. I’ll let you in on a secret, Eddie. I’m not a natural beauty. Any appeal I have comes from hard work and a daily pounding of the pavement.’
Edward thought that none of her appeal came from pounding the pavement. She had a killer body, that was true. But she also had a set of full, pouty lips, a beautiful smile and an innate consciousness of her own femininity. The woman was sexy. Damn sexy. And she knew it.
‘If that body is so hard to get why do you expose it in cheap stuff like that thing you call a dress? If that body were mine I’d have it covered from nose to ankle so no one could lay his perving eyes on you.’
Olivia blinked.
‘You would?’
He nodded and moved closer to her. As if she were a magnet and he couldn’t resist. Her small body was warm, and even though he wasn’t touching her he could feel the heat emanating from her.
‘If you were mine, Olivia, I’d barely let you out of the bedroom, where clothes don’t matter.’
The silence that lay between them wasn’t awkward. And it wasn’t silent. He could see her thinking. He was sure she could see him thinking. Wanting to do something he shouldn’t. Wishing it was he who’d had those glasses of champagne. Maybe then he wouldn’t think so much.
Olivia swayed and grabbed the wall for support, knocking the glass of water off in the process. It smashed noisily on the paving. He moved quickly to hold her around the waist. When she fell against him her breasts were soft against his chest. Then she moved even closer, snuggling in, making his chest expand and his arms hold her even tighter. Her blue eyes swivelled up to him and he saw the question in them. The air was thick and heavy and so was her need. He answered it automatically by pulling her in even closer.
‘You feel nice,’ she murmured as she snuggled in, and let out a little mew.
For some reason that turned him on even more. Her soft hair tickled his chin. He leaned down a little to bury his nose in it and breathe her in. But he wasn’t here for this. He hadn’t come here this weekend to fondle innocent women on the terrace.
‘Olivia, are you all right?’
‘I am now,’ she murmured, pulling herself closer.
Damn, that wasn’t what he’d wanted her to do. Holding her close to him felt good. Too good. And he didn’t deserve good. Not when his brother needed his support and his mother needed his explanations and his father needed help to calm down. Being out here with Olivia was a selfish indulgence. He tried to push her away but she held tight, and she was so close and so responsive she just snuggled back in. This was getting out of hand.
‘Olivia, you’re too...’
The word intoxicating embedded itself into his mind as her scent circled around his face. She was intoxicating. She lifted her head and her eyes darkened. He knew the look on her face. Pure desire. He was sure she could see the same look on his face.
‘Too what?’
She licked her bottom lip and his mind went blank. All thoughts of guilt disappeared and something more animal took over. Slowly, he brought his hand around to trace a finger along the edge of her chin. He wanted to touch her lips. Just once. Then he’d stop. All her lipstick had come off. Her lips were bare and delicious. He moved a single finger up to trace them and she stood still. Her breath warmed his finger. With his thumb, he swept a line past her open lips and she responded by poking her pink tongue out. It caught his thumb and he’d never felt anything more erotic.
‘Too much,’ he whispered as she sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth.
Every thought fled his mind except that of her scent and the feel of her body and the sight of those plump lips in between her teeth. His erection was now so hard it hurt. With his hand on the small of her back he pressed her to him, wanting her to feel how much he wanted her.
‘Too intoxicating,’ he said as he looked into her eyes, which were now bright blue and hooded.
He squeezed his finger and thumb under her chin and pushed it up a little. Closer to him. Olivia wasn’t looking for anything serious. She just wanted comfort. Comfort he could give. Comfort wouldn’t last past the weekend. He was able to do that.
Thankfully, she moved her chin up higher, until finally he felt the warmth of her breath on his lips.
Intoxicating.
Intoxicated.
The sharp tang of champagne on her breath hit his nose. He felt her sway slightly. Realisation made his eyes roll back. She was drunk and he was taking advantage of her. Quickly he used his hands to push her shoulders away.
SEVEN
‘Olivia, stop...’
Surprise filled her eyes. She frowned and watched his lips as he spoke.
‘We shouldn’t be doing this...’
‘Five minutes,’ she said suddenly, and loosened herself from his grip. ‘That’s my limit.’
Her voice was angry and rough. He’d hurt her. He wanted to tell her he couldn’t kiss her when she was drunk. Especially when he wasn’t. He had to be the responsible one.
Olivia moved quickly and headed for a lounger.
She plonked herself in it, then angrily stood up again and removed the jacket from her shoulders, tossing it to his feet.
‘Five minutes—that’s all it ever takes.’
‘Olivia...’ He picked his jacket up and moved closer to drape it over her. She ripped it off again. He was reminded of a petulant child.
‘Go away, Edward. You’ve made your point.’
‘My point?’
‘Yes.’ Her eyes turned angrily towards him and flickered with distaste. ‘I’m the girl who’s gagging for it. The one you pash and dash with. I know that already—I don’t need you to point it out.’
‘I wasn’t trying to make any point.’
He wasn’t sure what he’d been trying to do. He’d been caught up. In the stars, in her scent. Maybe he was more damn romantic than he’d thought. That idea sobered him up.
‘You want to know why people can’t stand to be with you for more than five minutes? You’re as inconsistent as an upstart peer trying to land a position in the Lords. A woman of so many faces I can’t keep up with them all.’
‘Then go away,’ she said quietly, mechanically. ‘Leave me alone.’
She sat up and shifted on the chair and her head moved to one side. His chest clenched for a second. She wasn’t crying, was she? He didn’t do tears.
Her breathing slowed and he moved closer. She snorted and shifted again, curling her legs up. She was asleep. Drunk and passed out.
