The Right Side of Mr Wrong (12 page)

Even from here he could feel her astonished disappointment.

Damn.
He didn’t wait for a reply. He was already pounding down the road. How had he thought running with her was a good idea?

Jealousy; the reason he could never be with anyone ever again.

And he certainly wasn’t going to talk about it.

* * *

‘Jealousy is a very destructive emotion, you know.’

Shea tossed that out across the cream leather back seat of the limo, in the hope that it would reach Brando. At least in a car he couldn’t run away. Maybe it was going to be hard, but now she’d brought his difficulties to the surface, she owed it to him to talk about them. She knew from experience that burying problems didn’t make them go away. If you were brave enough to confront them, at least you stood a chance of getting over them.

He looked up from his laptop, and sniffed irritably. ‘Haven’t you got an itinerary to organise?’

Damn that his sulking didn’t diminish the effect he had on her lust levels. They were still disgustingly out of control.

‘Pretty much got that covered thanks.’ She grinned at him, and tried to concentrate on plans for the day. ‘I got a tip for Bath’s hottest shop from my housemate who does interiors. So long as you like the style, we should find everything you need there and minimise your suffering.’

‘Just the kind of news I like to hear!’

‘So now can we can talk about how jealousy isn’t good please?’ Priority number one here, after all.

He closed his eyes, exhaled loudly, shook his head distractedly.

‘As you obviously refuse to give up you may as well know – the argument I had with Nick before he died was caused by jealousy.’ His voice was low, his jaw hardened, his hands clenched into bitter fists. ‘If anyone knows about the destruction it can cause, it’s me. Don’t you think that’s lesson enough, without your preaching?’

Oh sweet peanuts! That should teach her.
‘I’m so sorry! Putting both feet in it, again! I wasn’t judging, I just thought it might be good – to talk, I mean.’

‘Don’t worry about it. You weren’t to know. Here, look online and show me some sofas. I brought the limo so you could do that on the way.’

A sting of unexpected disappointment hit her.
Damn.
Why had she been ridiculous enough to imagine the limo was for en route clinches. Why should she care anyway?

‘Trips in the limo will give you practice for later.’ She had no idea where that came from other than a need to hit out. ‘You’ve cracked the dating now. You’re way beyond your five-hour limit. I’d say you’re pretty much all set for a relationship.’

‘Why?’ He flipped a lazy leg across hers, eyed her with a laconic smile. ‘Are you offering?’

Liquorice sticks!
Her stomach did a dizzy triple flip. She ignored the out of control skitter of her heart, swallowing hard to quell the fizz.

‘No way! I’m entirely not available!’ It came out five times louder, ten times more emphatically than she intended.

He twisted his jaw, scrunched up his lips, contemplating her.

‘Then I don’t understand – what the hell are you here for? I thought you were desperate for a husband?’

Kerching! Home-truth time, it had to be done. ‘I’m here because my work had fallen through, I couldn’t face going on holiday, and I couldn’t bear the thought of having nothing to do. The last thing I want is a husband. I don’t even want a relationship.’ Her words tumbled out in one desperate gush of honesty.

‘I see.’ His slow response and impassive frown gave no clue about the level of his annoyance.

‘I only played along to challenge you, because I could see you were so against the idea of a wife. It was a wind up, I didn’t mean to lie.’ She rushed on, shooting him a placating glance, wishing it didn’t sound so bad. ‘To be honest it was a shock to find you here. Bryony told me you hardly came. She wanted some film footage, I needed to be occupied. It seemed like an ideal arrangement.’

‘Well, thank you Bryony.’ He shook his head, rolled his eyes, then turned to her with a stare that drilled to her core, tapping his teeth with a finger. ‘Sounds to me like your work obsession is like my compulsive running. It takes one to know one, Shea-rhymes-with-play. So what exactly are
you
blocking out?’

She shrank under his scrutiny. A desperate marriage at eighteen to a terminally ill husband who disintegrated while she stood by helplessly. Then four years as a widow, trying to piece her life back together, while everyone danced around her at arm’s length, too scared of upsetting her to get near her. How about that for starters?

Poor, sweet Greg, and his brain tumour.

It was no business of Brando’s. Even if he had inadvertently helped her take a step towards reclaiming a normal life, there was no way she was letting him rake over her memories. Greg belonged in the other part of her life. No cross over was how she was surviving here. She was keeping the guilt and the betrayal at bay by telling herself that nothing here counted. If Brando knew about Greg he’d see her differently, and that would be certain to change things between them. Whatever it was they were enjoying now would be finished. A judder turned her insides cold, because she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. Not yet.

‘I’m trying to leave the past behind, you already know that. I’m not up for emotion.’ She tried for a radiant smile, struggled for an upbeat note, as she tried to assimilate her shock at that last realisation. ‘We’re burning out heat here, if I remember rightly. And we both know we’ll soon be done.’

‘Too right! ’ He gave a short, hollow laugh, and sent her a weird look that implied she’d misunderstood him entirely. ‘Who the hell said anything about emotion? Grab the laptop and show me some sofas!’

* * *

‘Oh sugar! I’m not sure I’m the best person to do this.’

Shea gazed, wide eyed, around the lofty furniture showroom, with its startling array of furniture and accessories, suddenly bemused. ‘I’m good at helping you decide what you’d like to keep, what you need to make your home work. I’m not a designer.’

‘Hey, you can’t get me this far then run out on me! That’s not how it works!’ His retort was playful, yet chidingly indignant. ‘I’ve already told you a designer makes it too clinical. This time I want to choose things for myself, buy sofas I’m comfortable sitting on and I need your help because you know me.’ He shot her a grin he hoped was reassuring. ‘I’m not asking you to be Kelly Hoppen!’

He watched her take a deep breath, smooth down that delectably tight pencil skirt that accentuated her curves so perfectly, and visibly pull herself together with a tug of her peplum jacket. He loved it when her confidence ruptured and he caught a glimpse of the vulnerability underneath. When she turned back to him she’d recaptured her radiant smile, and one flash of it sent his stomach into the tailspin he knew to expect now, but still hadn’t quite worked out how to handle.

‘I guess I was the one who said cushions were more meaningful if they had history. Caught out by my own blarney yet again.’ She gave a momentary grimace, and took a monumental deep breath. ‘So, bearing in mind that your favourite colour is grey and you have a pathological hatred of florals, let’s try out some seats. Whatever we choose, if it makes you want to spend time at Edgerton, it can only be good.’

* * *

‘So, not so hard after all, was it Brando?’ Her heels clicked as she marched imperiously ahead of him. He had no idea where she was heading, but he was pretty much willing to follow that delectable rear wherever she wanted to take him. ‘Sofas for three rooms sorted in fifty minutes. You’re a very decisive shopper, I’m impressed!’

‘Does that mean I get to eat now?’

He counted the seconds it took her to moan inwardly and roll her eyes.
One, two … 

‘We can maybe allow that, so long as it doesn’t take too long – build up your strength for the rest.’ She flashed him a mischievous half wink over her shoulder.

‘You mean there’s more?’ He gave a mock groan.

‘You know there’s more. In fact, I’ll just check if that same assistant is going to be here this afternoon. He’s so helpful, and I don’t want to overstretch your attention span.’

He watched her twirl and head off, enjoying the view as she twisted her way back across the showroom. He had no idea how she could walk in heels like that, but he sure as hell liked the way they made her bottom wiggle. She’d reached the pay desk now, was inclining her head, making small neat gestures as she chatted to the guy there. Even from this distance she exuded sex appeal. He tried to take his eyes off her, and failed. As he saw the assistant stretch out a hand, rest it on her shoulder for a second, his heart begin to hammer, his chest tightened like a tourniquet, and a furious burst of adrenalin pulsed through him.

What the hell?

He grappled with himself, resisting the sudden violent urge that seized him.

All he wanted was to race across the store and wrench her away, floor the guy, and grab her for himself.
Crazy time or what?

He shut his eyes tightly, shook his head. Dizzied. Fighting himself. And the damned realisation that he wanted to possess her. No way was this happening, not to him.

Not now, not ever.

By the time he opened his eyes, his heart rate was subsiding, and then she was beside him again, her hand feather-light on his forearm. Two gasps of her dusky, summer scent calmed him measurably.

‘Okay Brando?’ Her question fluttered against his cheek.

‘Yep, never better!’ He forced the ironic words between gritted teeth, giving a disgusted snort as he rammed his hands into his pockets and spun on his heel. ‘Come on, hurry up, or we’ll be way too late for lunch.’

He cringed inwardly as he heard his footsteps thudding on the pristine polished walkway. He knew he was acting unreasonably, but right now he was beyond being polite. He needed to put the brakes on himself, and hard, before this thing got any more out of control than it already was.

* * *

‘Shopping mission accomplished, and I’m still in one piece.’ He grinned in her direction across the dimness of the rear seat, as they sped back towards Edgerton.

‘Speak for yourself, my feet are killing and I’m exhausted! It was quite a surprise when you insisted on buying up most of the bedroom department too. Your running gives you way too much stamina in every area of your life Brando Marshall.’ She slowly eased off one shoe at a time, letting them drop onto the luxurious carpet. As she deftly tucked her legs beneath her, she leaned towards him.

‘I like to be decisive. And you forget, I hadn’t actually slept in a bed for a very long time. Now I do, the least I can ask for is a comfortable one.’

However much of a shock he’d given himself before lunch, he’d been determined not to take it out on Shea. After all, his shortcomings weren’t her fault. Plus, he’d spent the whole afternoon rationalising that his over-reaction probably had a lot more to do with him needing lunch than anything else. He tested himself by letting his gaze wander over the contoured shadows of her breasts, up to the soft indentation below her throat, and gave a low, satisfied growl, because there he had the proof. Pure lust, nothing more. All he needed to do was be aware, push on for burn-out as soon as, then get the hell out of here. A dangerous game, but then wasn’t he the expert with risk?

He nudged Shea gently in the ribs with his elbow. ‘Your mother was not wrong when she told me you had a cushion fetish.’

‘Sorry? When was this exactly?’ She rounded on him with a mixture of disbelief and puzzled indignation.

‘Not sure which day it was. We’ve been chatting quite a lot – I thought I’d better let her know you were okay, seeing as you haven’t been phoning her. Your dad’s been playing golf, your sister’s bought a stunning dress for the Squash Club winter ball, and the dog ate a whole apple pie to himself yesterday.’ He stifled his laughter, tried to sound nonchalant. ‘You’ll be phoning her yourself tonight anyway, you can catch up then.’

She rubbed her nose wearily, swallowed a yawn. ‘You always surprise me, do you know that? I was furious about the ban on phoning my mum at first, but it has been good to have a break. Thanks for keeping in touch for me.’

He stretched out an arm, pulled her towards him, casually, teasing. A bolt of desire coursed through him, as one firm breast pushed against his ribs. She yawned again, dropped her head heavily on his shoulder.
Damn.
He’d brought this car so they could make full use of the space on the dark ride home, and he hadn’t planned to sleep. As she wriggled against him, her closeness warming his chest, his irritation melted, but in its place he felt something horribly, achingly protective.

‘I’m sorry if I was short with you this morning … ’

She murmured in query.

‘ … about the jealousy thing.’ If whatever they had was almost over, he didn’t want to leave her thinking he was a complete heel. He had a flashing vision of his life back in London, life without her, as it had been before and stifled a shudder. It was suddenly important that she knew. ‘The argument with Nick, just before he died – I wrongly accused him of trying to steal my girlfriend. That’s what we argued about. I saw them together, jumped to the wrong conclusions and went for him. I was insanely jealous, so jealous I couldn’t see the truth. It was only afterwards I found out she
had
been cheating on me, but not with him. When I’d seen them together he’d been tackling her about it. He didn’t want to tell me what was going on; he’d hoped that talking to her would be enough. But we argued, he left, and the rest you know. I’ll always blame myself and my jealousy for his death. If it hadn’t been for my jealousy, he wouldn’t have left, and he would still be alive.’

‘Brando, I’m so sorry.’ She rubbed her hand across his head, ruffling his hair, down over the roughness of his jaw. ‘Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.’

Jeez, he’d gone and spilled his guts. Again. Why, he had no idea, despite the fact he’d wracked his brains every time it had happened. He only knew that when he was with her, his secrets came tumbling out. Yet despite the fact he hated every time it happened, it seemed to make things better, not worse. He was feeling better about the past, better about himself, better about the future.