Bedding his Innocent Mistress Page 13

  “I’ve got a car coming in a minute or two.”

  “Where are you going?” He asked, strolling into the lounge area with a proprietorial air that infuriated Ivy. She wished, now, that she’d made more effort to alter the décor, to expunge Steve from her life completely. What was his new house like? No doubt his fiancé had helped him decorate it – a house filled with their furniture and hopes.

  “A charity thing,” she said with a wave of her hand in the air, to signal the unimportance of her plans. “What are you doing here?”

  “Your dad says you’re seeing someone.”

  She frowned. “How does my dad know…”

  “Lizzy,” he said with a smile that spoke of shared understanding. He knew so much about her – they’d been a part of one another’s lives for so long.

  “She told her mum,” Ivy said with a roll of her eyes.

  “And her mum told your mum,” he said with a grin, but then sobered. “You’re going out with him tonight?”

  “God, Steve. So what if I am?” She tried not to let it anger her that her parents spoke to her ex more than they did her – even when they discovered that she was dating someone.

  “No need to shout. I’m just making conversation.”

  Ivy huffed a breath out from between her teeth. “You have no right to make conversation with me.”

  “I miss you,” he said simply.

  “Oh, for God’s sake. I missed you, too. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me when you left? You walked out of my life and started a new one and now that I’m doing the same, you don’t get to turn up here and expect me to have time to talk to you. To even want to see you!”

  “I made a mistake.”

  The words were quiet but they slammed around the room with the force of a cyclone. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  A sharp knock sounded at the door but Ivy didn’t move. She was frozen to the spot, her eyes held captive by the visage of her past right in the middle of her life. Suddenly, the dress, the hair, the efforts she’d made and the feeling that she was sexy and attractive all felt utterly ridiculous.

  “I want you back, Ivy.”

  She lifted a hand to her lips, staring at him as though he was speaking a foreign language.

  “No,” she whispered, but tears filled her eyes. “No, damn you.”

  “I’m still in love with you.”

  “Stop it!” She lifted a hand to cover her lips. “Just, stop.”

  But he didn’t. He crossed the room, coming to stand right in front of her, so close she could smell his familiar cologne – she’d bought it for him a birthday or two ago – and he put a hand on her waist. “Baby, we need to talk about this.”

  She sobbed, because she wanted to tell him ‘no’, she wanted to tell him to get lost, but in the middle of their lounge room, behind the sofa they’d bought together, with all their dreams in tatters, she heard herself say: “Tomorrow. Meet me at our café.”

  Something like success and triumph flared in his eyes. “Eleven?”

  She nodded. “Eleven.”

  Sadness sat in her gut as they walked out of the home together, but not together. She locked the door and turned to face him, and his smile made her heart drop, because it was a smile of such determined optimism, his belief that they would somehow get back together, filling her with a sense of guilt and shame and desperation.

  She had no smile to offer Rafe’s driver. She followed him to the limo and slid into the backseat. As the car pulled out of the kerb, she turned back to look at her house; Steve was still there, watching her drive away. Tears filled her eyes and, once the car turned the corner, fell unchecked.

  She swore angrily, and reached for her phone, staring at it hopelessly. She wanted to talk to someone, to shout at someone, but to what end?

  Lisette had meant no harm – she and her mother were close and Ivy supposed she’d never forbidden Lisette to divulge the relationship.

  Her parents, had they been less in Steve’s camp, ought to have called her, to find out for themselves what was happening in Ivy’s life.

  They hadn’t.

  Steve wanted her back.

  Six weeks ago, that prospect wouldn’t have even required a moment’s thought. She would have been laughing and squealing with delight. Because she hadn’t been able to imagine her life without him.

  And now?

  She closed her eyes and saw Rafe, and doubts gnawed at her gut.

  Things with Rafe were supposed to be short-term. Fun. Sexy. Not serious. Not … this. She couldn’t pretend that they hadn’t progressed way beyond that.

  But Rafe’s life was in Spain, and hers was here, and besides that, he was a confirmed bachelor. Was she really hoping that there was some big, red-bow wrapped Happily Ever After waiting for her at the end of all this?

  She swore again, lifting her phone and using the camera function to observe the ravages of her made-up face. It wasn’t as bad as she’d thought. Dashing at her tears and blinking furiously to clear the last of them away, she reapplied her lipstick then dusted a little extra blush on her cheeks. She breathed deeply, trying to still her frantic emotions.

  By the time the car pulled up at the exclusive hotel, she was still in turmoil, but she looked calm. Placid. Ready for anything.

  Rafe had explained that he was bankrolling the event, and that he needed to be there to meet with key donors from earlier in the evening. Still, when Ivy walked in, she was bowled over by his presence. He stood in the centre of a group of executives, a dark tuxedo accentuating his sun-kissed skin, his swarthy looks, his strength, his beauty.

  Her skin goosed and a kaleidoscope of butterflies rammed against her insides. He was beyond handsome, and she was lost.

  As if feeling her presence, his eyes lifted and the look he sent her was so full of desire and need, so intimate, as he allowed himself a look at the dress, her body, before lifting back to her eyes and scorching her with his approval.

  Doubts were still throbbing inside of her but there was certainty too. If only she could grab it with both hands and hold onto it.

  She didn’t move. She stood and stared at him, lost to the moment, and when he excused himself a moment later, cutting through the room until he was in front of her, she ached to be alone with him.

  To have him make love to her.

  She needed him.

  He put a hand around her waist, leaning down for a brief kiss on her cheek in greeting. A perfectly socially acceptable way to meet one another at an event such as this, but totally insufficient for Ivy.

  “You look good enough to eat,” she drawled, lifting up on tiptoes and whispering the words into his ear, her body melded to his.

  His eyes flared with recognition when they met hers.

  “And you look good enough to do very bad things to,” he said, the hunger in his words unmistakable.

  “So?” She simpered. “What are you waiting for?”

  He laughed softly, padding his fingers across the small of her back. “Privacy?” He said with a wink.

  “There must be somewhere private here.”

  “You’re kidding?” He arched a brow, lifting his head to study her face. A frown tugged at his lips, and emotions she couldn’t comprehend flashed through his eyes.

  “What? What is it?”

  His nostrils flared when he expelled a breath. He looked at her in that way he had, seeing right inside of her and she shivered, worried for what he might find if he examined her too closely. “Something’s happened?”

  It took all of her effort, but she smiled, a smile that was an imitation of carefree and light – but a good imitation.

  “What do you mean?”

  He frowned. “You’re okay?”

  His concern drilled right into her heart. “I’m fine,” she nodded. “I’ve just… been thinking about you.”

  He relaxed visibly. “Good.” He leaned down then, whispering in her ear, “Keep thinking about me, Miss Hennessey. We’ll go as soon as poss
ible.”

  Ivy nodded, and silently, she prayed that it would be soon. More than anything, she needed to be with Rafe. He was a drug, and she was an addict; he was the cure to all her griefs and worries, and she knew he’d make everything feel better.

  *

  Some things, though, were almost impossible to salvage.

  Hours later, tangled in the expensive sheets of Rafe’s bed, curled up against him, Ivy’s eyes were heavy, and sleep was so tantalisingly close, and yet she made herself pull away from him.

  Now, more than ever, she knew she couldn’t stay the night. She wouldn’t roll from Rafe’s bed to a coffee with Steve – it was unfair to both of them. His breathing was level and deep, so she presumed he was asleep, but when she stood, naked, his hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, his fingers furling confidently about her flesh, pulling her towards him.

  “Don’t go.”

  This was a familiar refrain. A game they played. And though she almost never slept over, she loved that he still asked. Still wanted her. The self-esteem that was badly bruised took strength from his need for her. His want of her.

  Ivy looked at him, anguish and doubt on her pretty face.

  “I knew it.” He sat up in the bed, his eyes still sleepy but his expression hard, like the CEO tycoon he was.

  “What?”

  “Something’s going on with you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re different. Distracted.”

  “Distracted?” She shook her head, guilt making her heart hammer. “Are you kidding me? I was very, very present in your bed just now.”

  He shook his head. “That’s just sex. I mean you. All of you.”

  Danger perforated her soul. All of her? All of her wasn’t available. It never had been. The dropping of the axe was final, and yet, she saw now that it had been hinging for weeks, slowly falling, by degrees, until they reached this point.

  “I’m…”

  “What?” He was angry. He tried to flatten it from his voice but she heard it, because she understood him, as well as he did her.

  “You’re right,” she whispered, turning away from him, unable to face him when she spoke. “I’ve been… distracted.”

  “By what?” It was obvious, though, that he knew.

  “Steve came over tonight.”

  She heard him move, rather than saw him. The rustle of sheets, the pulling on of boxer shorts, and then the soft sound of feet on carpet, until he was standing in front of her, beautiful, handsome, and cold.

  “To your house?”

  She nodded, unable to meet his eyes.

  But Rafe was staring at her, unwilling to let her avoid this, knowing he needed her to be honest with him – completely.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  She swallowed, biting down on her lip. “Nothing happened.”

  “So, he came to your house, looked at it, and left?”

  She shook her head wearily.

  “Damn it, you will look at me when you tell me this, Ivy. At least have the courage for that.”

  She flinched but did as he said, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “He wanted to talk, that’s all.”

  “About what?” It was a sneer of derision.

  “About us.” She closed her eyes again but at Rafe’s harsh intake of breath, she looked at him once more.

  “He wants us to get back together.” The words tumbled out of her, furious and emotive, all at once. “He wishes we never broke up. He doesn’t know what he was thinking. He just wants to talk about it.”

  Rafe didn’t react for several long seconds and her admission stretched between them, a beginning of an end that neither could deny. “And what did you say?”

  She bit down on her lip and Rafe swore angrily, stalking away from her and slamming his palm in to the wall. It made a loud noise and Ivy flinched.

  “What did you say?” He demanded, his emotions heightened, his anger understandable.

  “I said I couldn’t talk about it because I was late to meet you,” she whispered. “But that I’d… meet him for coffee tomorrow.”

  Rafe’s eyes drove into her like knives.

  She couldn’t stand the directness of his gaze. Conscious that she was still naked, she grabbed for the sheet, wrapping it toga-style around herself.

  “It’s just coffee,” she said, trying to placate him even when they both knew that he would never accept this.

  “Yes. Coffee.” He nodded, as though agreeing with her. “But if you have coffee with him, Ivy, you should know that it’s over between us.”

  She sunk down onto the edge of the bed, dropping her head into her hands. “Don’t say that,” she whispered, even now, desperate that this not be over. Desperate that their affair continued. “Please, don’t overreact.”

  “Overreact?” He swore. “My God, Ivy, I have put up with playing second-fiddle to the bastard who broke your heart for many long weeks. I have been patient, waiting for you to understand that what you and he were has nothing to do with what you and I are, and still you tell me that you are having coffee with him? And it’s just coffee?”

  Ivy startled, his words so full of feeling that she looked at him and saw that he was hurting. That she’d hurt him.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, standing up jerkily, casting about for her clothes. They’d discarded them in the lounge, as they’d walked in, just a trail of passion in their wake. “I truly didn’t mean for you to get hurt by this.”

  “Hurt?” He shook his head. “I am way beyond hurt. I am angry and I am impatient and I am so close to telling you to get the hell out of my life. How long am I meant to wait? Do you need to go back to him, have your heart broken again, before realising that he is not right for you? And then, will you come back to me? Will that be good enough for me?” He slammed his palm into the wall once more.

  “Damn you, Ivy,” he said, moving towards her and dragging her into his arms.

  “I told you about this… the first night we were together,” she whispered, sweeping her eyes shut at the feeling of his body holding hers, and the strength that flowed from him to her. “I told you I was messed up. I told you about Steve. I told you I didn’t want more than a casual fling. And you were fine with that.”

  “Yeah, maybe I was. But then I fell in love with you and so guess what? Nothing but your whole heart, your complete commitment, is going to be enough for me.”

  She sobbed soundlessly, shaking her head, the realisation that she’d behaved in a way of which she was utterly ashamed slamming into her. “You don’t love me,” she said desperately.

  “Believe me, Ivy, I know how I feel about you. What is far harder to establish is how you feel for me.”

  Ivy opened her mouth, gaping, like a fish thrown from the sea. Words failed her. “I’m not… Rafe…” she lifted her hand and squeezed his bicep, trying to say what she needed to say. “This isn’t about Steve. It’s… you and I make no sense. Even without the fact that I’m… not ready to be with someone else.”

  “You’re not ready to be… Cristo! What do you think we’ve been doing this past month?”

  “Having sex,” she said quietly, her heart thumping violently at the insufficient description.

  “I see.” He stepped backwards, his eyes glinting like shards of black diamond in his face. “And that’s all we are to you?”

  She swallowed, seeing Steve, seeing Rafe, hating herself, hating her confusion and doubt.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to hurt you. I want, more than anything, to avoid that. But I can’t lie to you. I lost the love of my life earlier this year and my heart isn’t … I’m not myself. I’m not… I can’t ignore what I lost and how it felt. I can’t just… fall in and out of love.”

  The colour drained from Rafe’s face, but he straightened, and when he looked at her, it was with the cool disdain she imagined he employed in the boardroom.

  “I think you should go then.”


  He spun on his heel and stalked towards the bathroom. She contemplated going after him, but he slammed the door, and a second later, she heard the lock click into place.

  She dressed quickly, tears marking the fine silk of her dress.

  She hailed a cab home; Rafe, and all that came with dating Rafe, was now a part of her past. And she told herself that she’d made the right decision, even when she felt as though she was walking through the flames of hell.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “YOU SEE IVES, IT’S like this.” Steve had a croissant crumb on the corner of his mouth. It was lifting and falling with each word he spoke, distracting her. Or maybe that was the fact she’d hardly slept. Maybe it was the fact Rafe hadn’t called.

  And she’d wanted him to.

  She hadn’t called him. It hadn’t felt fair. Not after what she’d told him.

  He loved her?

  “I just didn’t want you to be the only person I’d ever been with, you know? If we’re going to be together for the rest of our lives, don’t you think it’s right that we at least saw what else was out there?”

  Ivy’s frown deepened. “You’re engaged to marry someone else,” she said stiffly.

  “Yeah, but, that was just… I got caught up in the excitement of it all.” He laughed nervously. “Like you and Santoro.”

  Ivy’s heart squeezed.

  “But I never stopped loving you, babe.”

  Ivy cupped her hands around her coffee and looked at the café. They’d come here every Saturday morning, from when they’d moved into the house. He’d ordered a croissant, and she’d chosen the frittata, and they’d sat opposite one another, reading the papers, drinking coffee in what Ivy had told herself was a contented silence.

  But so much of their relationship had been comprised of contented silence. Where had the passion been? The need to share every detail of their days? To confide their fears and needs, their hopes, their dreams?

  “Just say the word, and I’ll move back in.”