services. From him it had been handy introductions—name-dropping Emma to contacts who might want or need legal advice. All of it professional on one level or another.
This weekend was meant to be all about him taking charge, making the point that he was the one doing her the favour and then breaking off their arrangement the moment the wedding was over. The plan had seemed so easy in the wake of her insulting dumping of him—the perfect way to redress control and get rid of the gnawing feeling that he’d let her become indispensable in his life.
But the connection between them now felt more complex instead of more detached. The idea of walking away from it felt suddenly less gratifying. He’d been so busy taking what he could get from their agreement, manipulating it to suit his own ends so he could avoid close relationships, that he hadn’t considered what might be in it for her beyond the shallow work reasons they both had.
For Emma it had been a way of making life easier. Because to be ‘good enough’ she believed she had to fit a certain stereotype. He wasn’t sure which was worse—using their agreement to escape past failures or using it to avoid any remote likelihood of ever having any.
* * *
As they walked up the stairs to their room Emma realised suddenly that he still had his arm loosely draped around her. There was no one around them to see it. No family members, no staff. Just what did that mean? Or did it mean anything at all?
She wondered if it felt as natural to him as it felt to her and gave herself a mental slap for even thinking about reading something into it. Really? This was Dan—Mr Two-Week Relationship himself. Even if that arm resting on her shoulders right now meant something—which it didn’t—it would only ever be that.
Nothing meant anything to Dan Morgan except his work. He’d made that crystal clear this evening. And she wasn’t in the market for anything that could be described as a fling. What would be the point? She’d had that with Alistair. What she wanted was not to be some throwaway bit of arm candy but to feel special, to come first, and she wasn’t going to get that from Dan.
A hot kiss followed by a night sharing a room with him... The stuff of her dreams a few months ago. And now she had it, it was all for show. How par for the course of her life. They’d been alone together loads of times and he’d never had any intention of making a move. Pretend Emma got the hot kiss and the envious glances from female wedding guests over her gorgeous male companion. Real Emma got the awkwardness of bunking in with a work colleague.
She wriggled away from his arm and fumbled in her bag for the room key.
It had taken months to get over her stupid crush on him and to reinstate it now would be madness. She was just flustered, that was all, over a stupid fake kiss and a bit of a personal conversation. It didn’t mean anything.
SEVEN
When had he last shared a bedroom with someone for a reason that had nothing to do with sex? Dan couldn’t actually remember. It must have been Maggie. Way back when he was still at college and anything had seemed possible.
Had he now become so accustomed to room-sharing being about sex that his body simply expected it as part of the deal? Was that why he felt so damned on edge as he waited for Emma to change in the bathroom? Every nerve in his body was wound into a tense knot.
The air of awkwardness from earlier was back. But now there seemed a new, deeper edge to it. It was more than just the logistics of sharing a small space with someone you only knew on a work basis. His growing attraction to her was heightened by his new understanding of her. A few feet away from him in the velvet-soft darkness she would be there, lying in that bed, with her long, slender limbs and her silky dark hair.
His body matched his racing mind with a rigid, hot tension the like of which was going to make sleep an impossibility.
His pulse jolted as the
This weekend was meant to be all about him taking charge, making the point that he was the one doing her the favour and then breaking off their arrangement the moment the wedding was over. The plan had seemed so easy in the wake of her insulting dumping of him—the perfect way to redress control and get rid of the gnawing feeling that he’d let her become indispensable in his life.
But the connection between them now felt more complex instead of more detached. The idea of walking away from it felt suddenly less gratifying. He’d been so busy taking what he could get from their agreement, manipulating it to suit his own ends so he could avoid close relationships, that he hadn’t considered what might be in it for her beyond the shallow work reasons they both had.
For Emma it had been a way of making life easier. Because to be ‘good enough’ she believed she had to fit a certain stereotype. He wasn’t sure which was worse—using their agreement to escape past failures or using it to avoid any remote likelihood of ever having any.
* * *
As they walked up the stairs to their room Emma realised suddenly that he still had his arm loosely draped around her. There was no one around them to see it. No family members, no staff. Just what did that mean? Or did it mean anything at all?
She wondered if it felt as natural to him as it felt to her and gave herself a mental slap for even thinking about reading something into it. Really? This was Dan—Mr Two-Week Relationship himself. Even if that arm resting on her shoulders right now meant something—which it didn’t—it would only ever be that.
Nothing meant anything to Dan Morgan except his work. He’d made that crystal clear this evening. And she wasn’t in the market for anything that could be described as a fling. What would be the point? She’d had that with Alistair. What she wanted was not to be some throwaway bit of arm candy but to feel special, to come first, and she wasn’t going to get that from Dan.
A hot kiss followed by a night sharing a room with him... The stuff of her dreams a few months ago. And now she had it, it was all for show. How par for the course of her life. They’d been alone together loads of times and he’d never had any intention of making a move. Pretend Emma got the hot kiss and the envious glances from female wedding guests over her gorgeous male companion. Real Emma got the awkwardness of bunking in with a work colleague.
She wriggled away from his arm and fumbled in her bag for the room key.
It had taken months to get over her stupid crush on him and to reinstate it now would be madness. She was just flustered, that was all, over a stupid fake kiss and a bit of a personal conversation. It didn’t mean anything.
SEVEN
When had he last shared a bedroom with someone for a reason that had nothing to do with sex? Dan couldn’t actually remember. It must have been Maggie. Way back when he was still at college and anything had seemed possible.
Had he now become so accustomed to room-sharing being about sex that his body simply expected it as part of the deal? Was that why he felt so damned on edge as he waited for Emma to change in the bathroom? Every nerve in his body was wound into a tense knot.
The air of awkwardness from earlier was back. But now there seemed a new, deeper edge to it. It was more than just the logistics of sharing a small space with someone you only knew on a work basis. His growing attraction to her was heightened by his new understanding of her. A few feet away from him in the velvet-soft darkness she would be there, lying in that bed, with her long, slender limbs and her silky dark hair.
His body matched his racing mind with a rigid, hot tension the like of which was going to make sleep an impossibility.
His pulse jolted as the
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