‘Would I get what I want then?’
Abby caught her breath. ‘I told you at the start of the evening—’
‘Yeah, I know what you told me at the start of the evening,’ he muttered. ‘Okay.’ He stepped aside as she picked up a tray containing the two cups of coffee she’d prepared. ‘Let’s have coffee like civilised human beings.’
Abby carried the tray into the living room and set it on the low table in front of the hearth. It meant she was obliged to sit on the sofa, with its multi-coloured cushions. Cushions that were liberally coated with dog hair, she noticed, but Luke didn’t seem to mind.
Predictably, he seated himself beside her, the cushions tipping sideways beneath his weight. Abby shifted to the edge of the seat to keep her balance, before leaning forward to hand Luke his cup.
‘Thanks.’
Luke took the coffee and then said, somewhat sarcastically, ‘Isn’t this cosy? To think I almost turned you down.’
‘Did you?’ He was almost sure she didn’t believe him. ‘So I suppose you can understand why I’ll be so sorry to leave this place?’
Luke blew out a breath. ‘I see. So you really invited me in to talk about the petition, did you?’ He set his cup on the tray again. ‘I assume yours is one of the over one hundred signatures Hughes is supposed to have?’
Abby stared at him. ‘Actually, no,’ she said shortly. ‘I didn’t know anything about the petition until Joan Miller told me what was going on.’
Luke’s brows drew together. ‘Am I supposed to believe that?’
‘You can believe what you like,’ she retorted hotly. ‘I’m not a liar.’
‘But you agree with its sentiments, surely,’ Luke persisted, spreading his legs and resting his forearms along his thighs. He glanced sideways at her. ‘You’ve just said how sorry you’ll be to leave.’
Abby sighed. ‘I will be sorry to leave,’ she admitted. ‘But I don’t know anything about Greg’s petition. He evidently didn’t think I would be prepared to sign it.’
Luke regarded her curiously. ‘And why would he think that?’
She pulled a wry face. ‘Why do you think?’
‘I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.’
Clearly she didn’t believe him, but she said patiently, ‘Because he thinks I’m a—a friend of yours, I suppose.’ She shook her head. ‘He’s not a fool. He could tell we’d known one another before you turned up at the café.’
‘So what did you tell him?’
* * *
Abby put down her own cup, afraid he would notice how her hands were shaking. ‘I didn’t tell him anything,’ she stated flatly. ‘What was I supposed to say? That we’d met five years ago in a wine bar? That you were in danger of defending my honour, before discovering I was an unfaithful wife?’
She paused. ‘Or would you rather I told him that you took your revenge by seducing me here a week ago? That you—how is it the romantic novelists put it?—that you had your wicked way with me, and then walked out without even saying goodbye?’
Luke straightened. ‘That’s not true!’
‘What’s not true? You did have sex with me.’
He scowled. ‘By no means could you call it having my wicked way with you, Abby. You didn’t exactly push me away.’
Abby got up from the sofa. ‘I think you’d better go.’
‘Why?’ He looked up at her, his dark eyes impaling hers. He waited a beat and then added softly, ‘Don’t you like the direction our conversation is going? Can you honestly say you didn’t want me as much as I wanted you?’
Abby moved towards the door, ordering Harley to stay where he was without a lot of success. ‘Just go,’ she said, turning away as if she couldn’t bear to look at him. ‘It’s too late to be having this discussion now.’
‘Oh, I agree.’
Luke got to his feet and went after her. Ignoring Harley’s bid for attention, he caught Abby’s arms and jerked her back against him, burying his face in the scented hollow at her nape. ‘Abby, let’s stop
Abby caught her breath. ‘I told you at the start of the evening—’
‘Yeah, I know what you told me at the start of the evening,’ he muttered. ‘Okay.’ He stepped aside as she picked up a tray containing the two cups of coffee she’d prepared. ‘Let’s have coffee like civilised human beings.’
Abby carried the tray into the living room and set it on the low table in front of the hearth. It meant she was obliged to sit on the sofa, with its multi-coloured cushions. Cushions that were liberally coated with dog hair, she noticed, but Luke didn’t seem to mind.
Predictably, he seated himself beside her, the cushions tipping sideways beneath his weight. Abby shifted to the edge of the seat to keep her balance, before leaning forward to hand Luke his cup.
‘Thanks.’
Luke took the coffee and then said, somewhat sarcastically, ‘Isn’t this cosy? To think I almost turned you down.’
‘Did you?’ He was almost sure she didn’t believe him. ‘So I suppose you can understand why I’ll be so sorry to leave this place?’
Luke blew out a breath. ‘I see. So you really invited me in to talk about the petition, did you?’ He set his cup on the tray again. ‘I assume yours is one of the over one hundred signatures Hughes is supposed to have?’
Abby stared at him. ‘Actually, no,’ she said shortly. ‘I didn’t know anything about the petition until Joan Miller told me what was going on.’
Luke’s brows drew together. ‘Am I supposed to believe that?’
‘You can believe what you like,’ she retorted hotly. ‘I’m not a liar.’
‘But you agree with its sentiments, surely,’ Luke persisted, spreading his legs and resting his forearms along his thighs. He glanced sideways at her. ‘You’ve just said how sorry you’ll be to leave.’
Abby sighed. ‘I will be sorry to leave,’ she admitted. ‘But I don’t know anything about Greg’s petition. He evidently didn’t think I would be prepared to sign it.’
Luke regarded her curiously. ‘And why would he think that?’
She pulled a wry face. ‘Why do you think?’
‘I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.’
Clearly she didn’t believe him, but she said patiently, ‘Because he thinks I’m a—a friend of yours, I suppose.’ She shook her head. ‘He’s not a fool. He could tell we’d known one another before you turned up at the café.’
‘So what did you tell him?’
* * *
Abby put down her own cup, afraid he would notice how her hands were shaking. ‘I didn’t tell him anything,’ she stated flatly. ‘What was I supposed to say? That we’d met five years ago in a wine bar? That you were in danger of defending my honour, before discovering I was an unfaithful wife?’
She paused. ‘Or would you rather I told him that you took your revenge by seducing me here a week ago? That you—how is it the romantic novelists put it?—that you had your wicked way with me, and then walked out without even saying goodbye?’
Luke straightened. ‘That’s not true!’
‘What’s not true? You did have sex with me.’
He scowled. ‘By no means could you call it having my wicked way with you, Abby. You didn’t exactly push me away.’
Abby got up from the sofa. ‘I think you’d better go.’
‘Why?’ He looked up at her, his dark eyes impaling hers. He waited a beat and then added softly, ‘Don’t you like the direction our conversation is going? Can you honestly say you didn’t want me as much as I wanted you?’
Abby moved towards the door, ordering Harley to stay where he was without a lot of success. ‘Just go,’ she said, turning away as if she couldn’t bear to look at him. ‘It’s too late to be having this discussion now.’
‘Oh, I agree.’
Luke got to his feet and went after her. Ignoring Harley’s bid for attention, he caught Abby’s arms and jerked her back against him, burying his face in the scented hollow at her nape. ‘Abby, let’s stop
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