She awoke to a soft caress on her cheek and found him sitting beside her in his bathrobe, smelling of cleanliness and his tangy-fresh after-shave lotion, his black hair slightly damp, his tanned skin shiny and stretched tautly over his beautiful facial bones, his dark eyes wary and watchful.
“It’s time to get up,” he said quietly. He nodded towards the bedside table. “I brought you coffee.”
She was embarrassed to find herself still in his bedroom. Even more embarrassed by the memory of her weeping jag last night. “I’m sorry,” she said, wrenching her eyes from his and struggling to rouse herself. “I didn’t mean to... to...”
“It’s okay. There’s no great hurry. It’s only just gone seven. I wanted time to talk to you before we go to breakfast.”
Sheer panic coiled through Tessa’s stomach. She wasn’t ready to talk to him right now. She needed time to compose herself. “Yes, sir. When I’m dressed, sir, if you don’t mind,” she gabbled.
He frowned, impatience stabbing from his eyes. But he stood up, jammed his hands into the pockets of his bathrobe and paced away. “When you’re ready then.” He tossed the words at her from the doorway, left her to make an exit from his bed by herself. For which she was extremely grateful.
She noticed her bathrobe on the bed. He had brought it in for her as well as the cup of coffee. Both were marks of consideration that she hadn’t expected from Blaize Callagan. But then he probably knew the rules of an encounter a lot better than she did. All the same, she appreciated both gestures very deeply.
Tessa scrambled out of bed, wrapped herself in the bathrobe and looked around for the clothes discarded last night. They weren’t anywhere to be seen. Nor were her hairpins. She grabbed the cup of coffee and hurtled along to her own room. She found everything neatly laid on her bed. She shook her head in wondering disbelief. She would never understand Blaize Callagan. He was a man full of contradictions. The arrogant taker... and the considerate giver.
She gulped down the coffee and headed for the bathroom. It was just as well today was the last day, she thought. She was getting in too deep with Blaize Callagan. Far too deep. And it couldn’t lead anywhere. It was even more paramount now that she keep her head or she would end up a very bad loser. It was bad enough that he would remember her crying. What she had to do now was make a graceful dignified exit from his life. If she was to keep her self-respect.
The bitterly ironic part of this encounter was that she had embraced it for the memories it would give her, yet as she stood under the shower and soaped off the lingering smell of d’Yquem from her skin, her mind sheered away from last night’s experience. She knew it wasn’t lovemaking, yet it had ended up feeling too much like lovemaking for her to take any comfort from the memory. It was too disturbing. Too close to the bone.
She hurried out of the shower and concentrated fiercely on getting herself under tight control. She brushed her hair hard, wishing she could brush the memory of his touch out of it. It had felt like a tender loving touch, but it couldn’t have been. It was a relief to get it all twisted up into a topknot again.
The green dress, thank heaven, had a flared skirt. Blaize Callagan wouldn’t have to lift her in and out of the helicopter. She couldn’t have borne that casual intimacy after what she had shared with him. Her hand trembled so much it was difficult to apply her makeup with any real expertise, but she managed a fair job of it. She looked around for her glasses. Her heart sank when she remembered Blaize had put them in his coat pocket.
She couldn’t go into his bedroom!
She stood frozen for several seconds, worrying how to deal with the problem. Then her distracted gaze caught them lying on her bedside table. Blaize had remembered them. Of course, she thought in savage recrimination. He remembered everything. He had a computer mind that she could never match. Never.
She snatched them up and put them on. Then she packed all her belongings and zipped up her suitcase. The end, she thought. Another chapter in her life finished. Two chapters in one week. It had been a very eventful week. But at least this chapter could be finished with some style. Blaize liked her style. She would not let herself down—or him—by going out on anything less than a stylish note.
She found him in the same place he had been the previous morning, standing in the doorway to the verandah, looking out over a valley lit by bright morning sunshine. He wore a light grey suit today, impeccably tailored to fit his powerful physique.
Tessa paused for a few moments, remembering how she had run her fingers through the thick black hair, how her arms had clung around the strong column of his neck, how he had shuddered when she had run her fingernails over his back, how she had clutched his taut buttocks when...
She shut her eyes and willed the memories away. It was over, she reminded herself. Over. She swallowed hard, composed herself into businesslike practicality and forced herself to speak.
“I’m ready, sir.”
He swung around, his face alight with a warmth she had never seen before. The dark eyes gleamed with pleasure as they ran over her dress. “Green suits you,” he said softly.
His voice felt like a caress on her skin. “Thank you, sir,” she said stiltedly.
He smiled, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “I need some more help from you, Miss Stockton.”
“Yes, sir?”
“I seem to have developed a bad case of emptiness. I don’t think two nights are enough.”
There was a rush of blood to her head as she realised he didn’t want to be finished with her. Then it drained slowly away as the reality of what he was asking hit home. More of the same. And she couldn’t take it. It was a losing play all the way.
“I’m sorry, sir, but enough is enough. You’ve had your emptiness quota from me, sir,” she said firmly, determined not to let her voice shake. It was bad enough that she felt so weakly tremulous inside.
He gave her an appealing smile. “Stockton, you can’t walk out on me like this.”
The dropping of the “miss” hardened her resolve. Her tawny gold eyes glittered into metallic defiance. “Oh, yes, sir, I can. That’s precisely what I’m doing.”
His eyes narrowed. He shook his head. “I don’t believe you mean that.”
“In a very short space of time, you’ll come to believe it, sir,” she said.
He stared at her for several seconds, the dark eyes projecting the dominance of his will. Then very deliberately he dropped his gaze, running it slowly down her body, burning through the green dress to remind her of every intimacy she had allowed him to take.