worthless as Jeremy should have two women desperate to spend their lives with him.
Either he has hidden qualities I know nothing about or he's one hell of a stud, he thought cynically.
Or was it simply that Jeremy was Olivia's first love, and she'd elevated him on to some kind of pedestal?
Whatever, it was clear that all was not perfect in the Garden of Eden, so he'd see what a little concentrated temptation could do. Find out if he could lead Olivia astray. Beguile her into falling in love a little.
He'd be doing her a favour, after all, because he couldn't see any future for her with Jeremy, even if Maria gave up the struggle and divorced him.
And he wouldn't do any lasting damage, he told himself defensively as he stripped off his clothes.
All the same, a persistent image of her—the vulnerable slant of her neck and shoulders as she'd sat in front of that damned computer—kept coming into his mind. Haunting him, he realised without pleasure.
And as he turned the shower jet on full he knew it would be a long time before he felt clean again.
Fool. Raving idiot Crazy woman, Olivia apostrophised herself as she carefully applied a coating of mascara to her lashes.
She still couldn't believe she was actually doing this— dressing to go out to dinner with Declan Malone. It must have been shock, she decided, as she replaced the mascara wand in its tube. Because she'd never really thought he'd agree to stop hassling her about Jeremy. Nor could she fathom why he'd given up so easily.
Yes, she'd located a missing file, but that could hardly account for such an extravagant show of gratitude. Particularly when, only a few hours ago, he'd given the impression he wanted to wring her neck.
Ah, well, she shrugged. Mine not to reason why. And it's a meal, after all.
It was also better than sitting around hoping Jeremy would call, but she wasn't going to think about that now.
She stood back, examining herself in the mirror, adjusting the fit of her black dress over her hips. It was one of her favourites, sleeveless and square-necked, cut straight and slim to mid-calf, and fastened all the way down the front by large mother-of-pearl buttons. Over it she was wearing a grey linen hip-length jacket.
Fashionably drab, she thought critically, adding a soft pink lustre to her lips.
Declan's brisk knock at the door was punctual to the second.
For a moment she was tempted not to answer. To hide in the kitchen till he'd gone. But common sense told her that he'd only go and get a key from Sasha, and she'd no wish to suffer the humiliation of being discovered cringing in a corner.
So, she pinned on a resolute smile and threw open the door. 'Good evening.'
'Good evening yourself.' Declan handed her the flowers he was carrying—twelve pink roses, wrapped in Cellophane and decorated with trailing ribbons. 'A small peace offering,' he murmured. To ensure the armistice holds.'
'Oh.' To her annoyance, Olivia realised she was blushing. She ducked her head swiftly, inhaling the sweet, subtle fragrance. 'Thank you. I—I'll put them in water.'
'The florist said to fill the sink and give them a good soaking.' He came in, closing the door behind him. 'Arrange them later.'
He seemed very relaxed, and completely at home, she thought with slight vexation, as she dashed to the kitchen.
He was no taller than Jeremy, and certainly not as heavily built, yet his presence diminished the room, somehow—overpowered it.
He was wearing dark grey pants and a pale blue shirt, open at the neck, the sleeves turned casually back over his forearms, and he carried a thin tweed jacket slung over one shoulder. Under the overhead light, his dark hair gleamed like living silk.
Olivia took in these details with one swift look as she came back, and felt something clench painfully inside her.
'I thought we'd go to an Italian place I know,' Declan said, ushering her up the outside steps. 'Do you like Italian food? Because if not…'
'No, I love it,' she
Either he has hidden qualities I know nothing about or he's one hell of a stud, he thought cynically.
Or was it simply that Jeremy was Olivia's first love, and she'd elevated him on to some kind of pedestal?
Whatever, it was clear that all was not perfect in the Garden of Eden, so he'd see what a little concentrated temptation could do. Find out if he could lead Olivia astray. Beguile her into falling in love a little.
He'd be doing her a favour, after all, because he couldn't see any future for her with Jeremy, even if Maria gave up the struggle and divorced him.
And he wouldn't do any lasting damage, he told himself defensively as he stripped off his clothes.
All the same, a persistent image of her—the vulnerable slant of her neck and shoulders as she'd sat in front of that damned computer—kept coming into his mind. Haunting him, he realised without pleasure.
And as he turned the shower jet on full he knew it would be a long time before he felt clean again.
Fool. Raving idiot Crazy woman, Olivia apostrophised herself as she carefully applied a coating of mascara to her lashes.
She still couldn't believe she was actually doing this— dressing to go out to dinner with Declan Malone. It must have been shock, she decided, as she replaced the mascara wand in its tube. Because she'd never really thought he'd agree to stop hassling her about Jeremy. Nor could she fathom why he'd given up so easily.
Yes, she'd located a missing file, but that could hardly account for such an extravagant show of gratitude. Particularly when, only a few hours ago, he'd given the impression he wanted to wring her neck.
Ah, well, she shrugged. Mine not to reason why. And it's a meal, after all.
It was also better than sitting around hoping Jeremy would call, but she wasn't going to think about that now.
She stood back, examining herself in the mirror, adjusting the fit of her black dress over her hips. It was one of her favourites, sleeveless and square-necked, cut straight and slim to mid-calf, and fastened all the way down the front by large mother-of-pearl buttons. Over it she was wearing a grey linen hip-length jacket.
Fashionably drab, she thought critically, adding a soft pink lustre to her lips.
Declan's brisk knock at the door was punctual to the second.
For a moment she was tempted not to answer. To hide in the kitchen till he'd gone. But common sense told her that he'd only go and get a key from Sasha, and she'd no wish to suffer the humiliation of being discovered cringing in a corner.
So, she pinned on a resolute smile and threw open the door. 'Good evening.'
'Good evening yourself.' Declan handed her the flowers he was carrying—twelve pink roses, wrapped in Cellophane and decorated with trailing ribbons. 'A small peace offering,' he murmured. To ensure the armistice holds.'
'Oh.' To her annoyance, Olivia realised she was blushing. She ducked her head swiftly, inhaling the sweet, subtle fragrance. 'Thank you. I—I'll put them in water.'
'The florist said to fill the sink and give them a good soaking.' He came in, closing the door behind him. 'Arrange them later.'
He seemed very relaxed, and completely at home, she thought with slight vexation, as she dashed to the kitchen.
He was no taller than Jeremy, and certainly not as heavily built, yet his presence diminished the room, somehow—overpowered it.
He was wearing dark grey pants and a pale blue shirt, open at the neck, the sleeves turned casually back over his forearms, and he carried a thin tweed jacket slung over one shoulder. Under the overhead light, his dark hair gleamed like living silk.
Olivia took in these details with one swift look as she came back, and felt something clench painfully inside her.
'I thought we'd go to an Italian place I know,' Declan said, ushering her up the outside steps. 'Do you like Italian food? Because if not…'
'No, I love it,' she
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