tongue is beyond me, Callie,’ he said to her retreating back. ‘I bet you didn’t make allowances for your husband.’
He paused, intrigued, as she stopped and slowly turned. Her face was set in lines of rigid hauteur, her body preternaturally still. Had he hit a sore spot?
When she didn’t immediately respond he continued, surprised at his need to know more. ‘Did you give him the cold shoulder too?’
‘I’ve told you, my marriage is none of your business.’ She drew herself up straight, perfectly erect, perfectly poised. So damnably perfect to look at it was hard to believe she was so conniving.
‘Why don’t you talk about it? Because you’re ashamed of the way you treated your husband? Don’t try to tell me you’re sick with grief. You’re not mourning him.’
She paced towards him. Fury flashed in her eyes.
‘I suppose you’d prefer I dressed in black and retire quietly for the rest of my life.’ Her lips curled in contempt. ‘It must be upsetting to realise a woman can get on just as well without a man in her life.’
‘You admit it? You weren’t in love with him?’ Triumph warred with disgust as he took in her supercilious expression. ‘Is that why you don’t use your married name? Why you reverted to Manolis? Because he meant nothing to you?’
Damon knew an insane desire to stamp his presence deep in her psyche, make her feel so much her life wouldn’t be complete without him.
If possible the chill in her gaze deepened. Her eyes were glacial pools that would suck the heat and the life from a man unwary enough to venture there.
‘You’re not sentimental about keeping your husband’s name?’ he prodded. ‘Or about the man who shared your bed for all those years?’
Damon waited for her excuses, but her mouth stayed fixed in an unyielding line.
She really was a piece of work.
‘So,’ he murmured, ‘you didn’t love him. Not surprising when he was so much older than you. He must have been, what, twenty years your senior? More?’
‘Thirty-five.’ Her lips barely moved on the words.
‘Thirty-five years older than you.’ Damon whistled. ‘It must have been a challenge, summoning the enthusiasm to make love to a man so much older.’ The image of Callie, sprawled naked and beautiful, letting some grizzled codger do what Damon had done with her, turned his stomach.
Acid rose in his throat. ‘Did you lie back and think of all his lovely money you could spend?’
Silence enveloped them. A stillness so thick he could almost reach out and grasp it. Yet she didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.
What would it take to unsettle her? He knew that behind the frozen façade was a flesh-and-blood woman whose physical passion matched even his.
‘You know nothing about my marriage,’ she said finally. ‘You’re not even original in your insults. There’s nothing you can say about my marriage that hasn’t been said before.’ She looked as if she didn’t give a damn. ‘You don’t know me,’ she added.
‘I know all I need to know. I remember in perfect detail. Every sigh, every moan, every passionate response. You couldn’t get enough of me.’
Damon stepped near, raising his hand as if to caress her cheek, stopping with his palm centimetres from her skin. Static electricity sparked between them, tickling his hand and igniting his libido.
He watched her sway the tiniest fraction, as if drawn irresistibly to his touch. She felt it too, the tug of desire, stronger than ever. Satisfaction warmed his belly.
Soon he’d have what he craved. Then, when he was satisfied, he’d resume normal life, free of this net that bound him tight. Even his fury at the stunt she and her uncle had pulled barely mattered. All that mattered was the extraordinary intensity of his need for Callie.
Their gazes meshed then she stepped away, her face set in a frown of displeasure and confusion that did nothing to diminish her vibrant beauty. His hand dropped.
‘You’re
He paused, intrigued, as she stopped and slowly turned. Her face was set in lines of rigid hauteur, her body preternaturally still. Had he hit a sore spot?
When she didn’t immediately respond he continued, surprised at his need to know more. ‘Did you give him the cold shoulder too?’
‘I’ve told you, my marriage is none of your business.’ She drew herself up straight, perfectly erect, perfectly poised. So damnably perfect to look at it was hard to believe she was so conniving.
‘Why don’t you talk about it? Because you’re ashamed of the way you treated your husband? Don’t try to tell me you’re sick with grief. You’re not mourning him.’
She paced towards him. Fury flashed in her eyes.
‘I suppose you’d prefer I dressed in black and retire quietly for the rest of my life.’ Her lips curled in contempt. ‘It must be upsetting to realise a woman can get on just as well without a man in her life.’
‘You admit it? You weren’t in love with him?’ Triumph warred with disgust as he took in her supercilious expression. ‘Is that why you don’t use your married name? Why you reverted to Manolis? Because he meant nothing to you?’
Damon knew an insane desire to stamp his presence deep in her psyche, make her feel so much her life wouldn’t be complete without him.
If possible the chill in her gaze deepened. Her eyes were glacial pools that would suck the heat and the life from a man unwary enough to venture there.
‘You’re not sentimental about keeping your husband’s name?’ he prodded. ‘Or about the man who shared your bed for all those years?’
Damon waited for her excuses, but her mouth stayed fixed in an unyielding line.
She really was a piece of work.
‘So,’ he murmured, ‘you didn’t love him. Not surprising when he was so much older than you. He must have been, what, twenty years your senior? More?’
‘Thirty-five.’ Her lips barely moved on the words.
‘Thirty-five years older than you.’ Damon whistled. ‘It must have been a challenge, summoning the enthusiasm to make love to a man so much older.’ The image of Callie, sprawled naked and beautiful, letting some grizzled codger do what Damon had done with her, turned his stomach.
Acid rose in his throat. ‘Did you lie back and think of all his lovely money you could spend?’
Silence enveloped them. A stillness so thick he could almost reach out and grasp it. Yet she didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.
What would it take to unsettle her? He knew that behind the frozen façade was a flesh-and-blood woman whose physical passion matched even his.
‘You know nothing about my marriage,’ she said finally. ‘You’re not even original in your insults. There’s nothing you can say about my marriage that hasn’t been said before.’ She looked as if she didn’t give a damn. ‘You don’t know me,’ she added.
‘I know all I need to know. I remember in perfect detail. Every sigh, every moan, every passionate response. You couldn’t get enough of me.’
Damon stepped near, raising his hand as if to caress her cheek, stopping with his palm centimetres from her skin. Static electricity sparked between them, tickling his hand and igniting his libido.
He watched her sway the tiniest fraction, as if drawn irresistibly to his touch. She felt it too, the tug of desire, stronger than ever. Satisfaction warmed his belly.
Soon he’d have what he craved. Then, when he was satisfied, he’d resume normal life, free of this net that bound him tight. Even his fury at the stunt she and her uncle had pulled barely mattered. All that mattered was the extraordinary intensity of his need for Callie.
Their gazes meshed then she stepped away, her face set in a frown of displeasure and confusion that did nothing to diminish her vibrant beauty. His hand dropped.
‘You’re
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