direct approach, and the unequivocal message behind it—but annoyed that he’d made her play her hand so soon. Still, at least now he knew she knew exactly what the score was, and she was more than ready to play.
‘What’s wrong, Tally? Don’t you think you deserve to be seduced?’
The husky challenge arrowed right past the shield of confidence to sink into the tender flesh beneath.
‘I don’t
need
to be seduced—there’s a difference.’ She slanted a look at him. ‘And that doesn’t make me a whore.’ She saw him flinch and knew she’d scored a direct hit. ‘It simply makes me a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it.’
She stared out the window and watched the unflattering rabbit warren of pollution-stained concrete and red brick fly past as the cab drove through the Barbican.
‘Then a seduction won’t bother you, will it?’ His hand settled on her leg, warm and—damn it—seductive. ‘I want to make this morning up to you, Tally.’
‘There’s no need.’ She swung round. ‘If that’s what tonight is all about, don’t bother.’ Good god, was this some kind of pity date he was taking her on?
‘There’s every damn need. We had a great night and I screwed it up.’
She lifted a shoulder, let it drop—the picture of nonchalance, she hoped. ‘It was a mistake. You didn’t know about my Twitter habit when you read the card,’ she said, only to have Henry’s words when she’d confronted him about the lies and the deceptions, the wife he had failed to mention, echo in her head on cue.
Get real
,
Tal.
You were an amazing fuck and you were offering it for free.
No man in his right mind’s going to turn that down—especially a married one.
She tramped down the familiar guilt that she’d worked so hard to deny. And the agonising feeling of inadequacy.
For god’s sake. Was she going to keep making the same mistake forever? She didn’t love Brent the way she’d once convinced herself she loved Henry. But she had invested more in their night together than she should have. Or that bloody note wouldn’t have got to her the way it had.
‘That’s bullshit,’ Brent said from the opposite side of the cab, interrupting her pity party. ‘Your card wasn’t the real reason I freaked out.’
‘Then what was?’ she asked, curious despite the fact that she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
He shrugged. ‘You’d made me feel good, and I didn’t want to deal with it, I guess.’
‘What was there to deal with? It was only sex.’
‘Seriously?’ He raised a sceptical eyebrow, calling her on the lie. ‘Even that last time?’
‘That would be your endorphins talking,’ she said, the panicked flutter returning. This conversation was straying into dangerous waters. ‘And those little buggers lie, all the time.’ They’d certainly lied to her about Henry.
‘Hey, I know that,’ he said, the rueful smile on his face surprisingly endearing. ‘I married a woman who ended up hating my guts thanks to those lying bastards.’
The revealing statement sparked her curiosity, unsettling her more. She’d convinced herself she didn’t want to know anything about his past, his ex-wife. So why should this tiny glimpse make her want to probe?
Sam had told her that Brent was a hard-ass with women because of his divorce. But had he really been a hard-ass with her? They’d jumped into bed without knowing the first thing about each other but still he’d treated her with surprising care and consideration—give or take the odd playful smack on the arse! Before that bloody note, he’d made her feel good too, especially in those moments before dawn. And wasn’t that precisely why she’d been so hurt by what happened afterwards?
‘Was it very bad?’ she asked, before she could think better of it. ‘Your divorce?’ The muscle in his jaw tensed, and she instantly felt like a fraud. ‘I’m sorry, that’s none of my business.’ What right did she have
‘What’s wrong, Tally? Don’t you think you deserve to be seduced?’
The husky challenge arrowed right past the shield of confidence to sink into the tender flesh beneath.
‘I don’t
need
to be seduced—there’s a difference.’ She slanted a look at him. ‘And that doesn’t make me a whore.’ She saw him flinch and knew she’d scored a direct hit. ‘It simply makes me a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it.’
She stared out the window and watched the unflattering rabbit warren of pollution-stained concrete and red brick fly past as the cab drove through the Barbican.
‘Then a seduction won’t bother you, will it?’ His hand settled on her leg, warm and—damn it—seductive. ‘I want to make this morning up to you, Tally.’
‘There’s no need.’ She swung round. ‘If that’s what tonight is all about, don’t bother.’ Good god, was this some kind of pity date he was taking her on?
‘There’s every damn need. We had a great night and I screwed it up.’
She lifted a shoulder, let it drop—the picture of nonchalance, she hoped. ‘It was a mistake. You didn’t know about my Twitter habit when you read the card,’ she said, only to have Henry’s words when she’d confronted him about the lies and the deceptions, the wife he had failed to mention, echo in her head on cue.
Get real
,
Tal.
You were an amazing fuck and you were offering it for free.
No man in his right mind’s going to turn that down—especially a married one.
She tramped down the familiar guilt that she’d worked so hard to deny. And the agonising feeling of inadequacy.
For god’s sake. Was she going to keep making the same mistake forever? She didn’t love Brent the way she’d once convinced herself she loved Henry. But she had invested more in their night together than she should have. Or that bloody note wouldn’t have got to her the way it had.
‘That’s bullshit,’ Brent said from the opposite side of the cab, interrupting her pity party. ‘Your card wasn’t the real reason I freaked out.’
‘Then what was?’ she asked, curious despite the fact that she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
He shrugged. ‘You’d made me feel good, and I didn’t want to deal with it, I guess.’
‘What was there to deal with? It was only sex.’
‘Seriously?’ He raised a sceptical eyebrow, calling her on the lie. ‘Even that last time?’
‘That would be your endorphins talking,’ she said, the panicked flutter returning. This conversation was straying into dangerous waters. ‘And those little buggers lie, all the time.’ They’d certainly lied to her about Henry.
‘Hey, I know that,’ he said, the rueful smile on his face surprisingly endearing. ‘I married a woman who ended up hating my guts thanks to those lying bastards.’
The revealing statement sparked her curiosity, unsettling her more. She’d convinced herself she didn’t want to know anything about his past, his ex-wife. So why should this tiny glimpse make her want to probe?
Sam had told her that Brent was a hard-ass with women because of his divorce. But had he really been a hard-ass with her? They’d jumped into bed without knowing the first thing about each other but still he’d treated her with surprising care and consideration—give or take the odd playful smack on the arse! Before that bloody note, he’d made her feel good too, especially in those moments before dawn. And wasn’t that precisely why she’d been so hurt by what happened afterwards?
‘Was it very bad?’ she asked, before she could think better of it. ‘Your divorce?’ The muscle in his jaw tensed, and she instantly felt like a fraud. ‘I’m sorry, that’s none of my business.’ What right did she have
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