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  She crossed to the door.

  ‘Where are you going?’ The words made the skin on her neck prickle.

  ‘I’m leaving.’

  ‘No, you’re not.’ She heard his footsteps, her hand stilling on the door handle as a new heat rose inside her to join the searing pain of humiliation and confusion.

  ‘Don’t go.’ Warm hands settled on her waist, tugging her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. ‘I’ve missed you, Ruby,’ he murmured, hot breath brushing across her nape. ‘Even though you’re the most troublesome woman I’ve ever met.’

  She shuddered, the shock of reaction, the desperate need in her heart for him to mean it—to really mean it—making her soften into him.

  ‘Seeing as you’ve come all this way,’ he added, pressing tantalising kisses to the sensitive skin beneath her ear, ‘we might as well make the most of the opportunity.’

  ‘Don’t.’ She placed her hands over his, tried to break his hold, but all the strength had left her. ‘I didn’t come for this.’

  ‘Didn’t you?’ His teeth nipped at her ear lobe, sending another shudder through her system.

  She moaned. The sound low and feral and full of the need she’d tried so hard to hide, to pretend didn’t exist. ‘I can’t.’ Her voice broke on the words, doing nothing to disguise the lie. She wanted more. So much more. Was it possible he might want more too?

  ‘Yes, you can,’ he whispered. ‘You want this as much as I do.’

  She felt the low liquid pull in her belly. Her nipples squeezed into hard, rigid peaks as his hands rose up her torso. The coarse canvas of the apron stimulated the tender flesh of her breasts as he massaged through the layers of clothing.

  She twisted in his arms, gripped his face in unsteady hands. She couldn’t wait, couldn’t give herself time to think. This wasn’t just about sex. It couldn’t be.

  ‘Make love to me,’ she whispered, feeling the hope that she’d kept so carefully leashed blossom.

  With one swipe he swept the leather-bound books off the desk. The heavy thuds as they hit the carpet echoed the pounding of her pulse as he lifted her onto the cold mahogany, and settled between her thighs.

  She reached for his trousers, frantic to free him before sanity returned. He swore softly, the sound of rending silk sending her senses into overdrive as he ripped aside the final barrier.

  The hard thrust lodged him deep, forcing her body to bow back, arch upwards. She groaned, sobbed, the penetration too full, too sudden. Gripping her hip, he delved between them, finding her clitoris. Exposing the swollen nub, he began to move, the strokes forcing him deeper still as he caressed her core. She powered over that brutal edge with shocking speed, the loss of control a maelstrom of emotion as she buried her head in his neck, clung to broad shoulders.

  He shouted out his own release, still seated deep.

  The rasps of their breathing sounded like the roar of cannon fire in the silent solemnity of his office. A shame far greater than any she could ever have imagined settled over her as the musty scent of sex and the discomfort of the still firm erection pulsed inside her.

  Tears welled, slid down her cheeks as emotion crushed her chest and her fingers fisted in the short dark hair.

  How could something that had seemed so pure, so perfect a second before, suddenly be so sordid? She sat even now on his desk, her skirt bunched around her waist, her legs wrapped around his hips. Nausea churned at the thought of how wrong she’d been.

  Was this how her mother had felt, when she’d betrayed her father?

  In her desperation to make Cal love her, she’d proved exactly the opposite. That sex was all they had ever really shared.

  Blinking furiously, scrubbing the tears away with the heel of her hand before he spotted them, she pushed at his shoulder. ‘I have to go.’

  He lifted his head, caressed her hips, his pupils still black with arousal. ‘I’m sorry. That didn’t have a lot of finesse. Are you okay?’

  ‘You need to move, so I can leave,’ she said, unable to process what he was saying, hysteria racing back to the surface. The last thing she needed now was for him to be kind.

  He pulled out of her and she scrambled up, all too aware of the sticky residue, the torn knickers as she clambered off the desk, brushed her skirt down, and swallowed the gulping sobs that threatened to spill out before she got away from him.

  She made a beeline for the door, hearing the rasp of his zipper as he righted his own clothing. ‘I’ll see you around, Cal.’

  ‘Wait just a damn minute.’ He grabbed her as she reached the door, held on as she struggled.

  She bit into her lip to stop it trembling. ‘I need to go. I’m busy.’

  ‘You’re not going anywhere. We need to talk about what just happened. And where we go from here.’

  ‘I’m fine. And we don’t need to talk.’ She’d rather die than talk about what they’d just done. ‘Because it’s over. There’s nowhere to go from here.’ He wanted to offer her crumbs when what she wanted was the banquet.

  His eyes raked over her face. ‘You’re not fine. We do need to talk. And don’t tell me we’ve got nowhere to go when we just proved this is a long way from being over.’

  The phone on the desk buzzed.

  ‘Damn it.’ Keeping his grip on her with one hand, he grabbed the receiver with the other.

  After a brief conversation, he slammed the phone back in its cradle. ‘I’ve got to go. I have to be in court in ten minutes. But you’re staying here. I’ll tell Terry to send up some coffee, tea, whatever you want. This’ll take fifteen minutes, twenty tops—it’s only a request for an adjournment. When I get back we’re going to have that talk.’

  From the rigid expression on his face, she could tell arguing would be futile—and she didn’t have the strength to do it anyway. ‘I can’t wait long.’

  His brow creased. ‘I mean it, Ruby. I expect you to be here when I get back.’

  She nodded. ‘I know.’

  He would expect it, she thought as he left the room. Because he had spent his entire life making sure his emotions never derailed his common sense.

  Unfortunately, she now knew she was nowhere near as smart.

  She scribbled a quick note and placed it on the desk—the same desk where she had offered him her heart and he hadn’t even realised—and then followed him out of the door, five minutes later.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THE pulsating salsa beat energised Ruby’s limbs as she let her friend Dan twirl her round in a practiced move, but couldn’t penetrate the numbness that had settled over her ever since her crying jag that afternoon. The picture of Cal the last time she’d seen him came blasting back into her mind and she took a misstep. Her hip collided with Dan’s and he stopped.

  ‘Damn it Rube, you’re ruining my rep as the best salsanista in Camden.’

  ‘Sorry, Dan. I’m a bit off tonight,’ she shouted above the clamour of dancing couples and loud music, the headache banding around her temple.

  She shouldn’t have come to Sol’s. The place held too many memories. But when Dan had phoned, she’d had the stupid idea that getting out was a necessity.

  Cal hadn’t called, and she hadn’t expected him to after the note she’d left. But when the phone had rung, and she’d felt the kick of anticipation, the pathetic shimmer of hope, she’d convinced herself she had to take the first step on her road to recovery. Tonight. And Dan was the perfect first step. A close friend for years, he was so outrageously camp at least she wouldn’t have to ward off any unwanted advances tonight.

  She had to stop wallowing in self-pity. So she’d finally been caught out by love. And she could see now it served her right. She’d dabbled with love for years, skirting the edges secure in the knowledge that she was too smart, too self-aware to ever get caught in a trap she couldn’t get out of.

  But all those times she had thought she was in love before, it had never been true. She’d kidded herself about the depth of her feelings becaus
e she’d enjoyed the romance, the drama, the companionship. But now she understood. Real love was what Rye and Maddy had. What her mother and father had once had. It involved taking risks. It involved giving yourself unselfishly without the guarantee it would be returned.

  She had always been so angry with her mother for telling her father about the affair, about Nick’s parentage. Why couldn’t her mother have taken the secret to her grave with her and saved them all from the truth? But Ruby understood now how courageous her mother had been and how much she’d risked to keep the secret as long as she had. All through her marriage she’d shouldered the burden of guilt—a burden that had stopped her from being able to truly love her son—because she loved her husband so much. She hadn’t been protecting herself with her silence, she’d been protecting him. But in the end, ravaged by the cancer, the burden had been too much to bear.

  You had to earn love, and Ruby never had, because she’d never risked a thing.

  How ironic that Cal should have been the one to figure out the truth, when he’d questioned her commitment to creating a family of her own that day on the beach.

  And wasn’t it just her tough luck that when she decided to risk everything and fall in love for real, it would be with a man who would never be willing to return the gift?

  ‘I’d say you’re more than a bit off, girlfriend,’ Dan added forcefully. Taking her hand, he led her away from the dance floor. ‘Sit down.’ He held out the chair at their table. She slumped into it. Her body numb, her mind not much better.

  ‘What’s wrong anyway?’ Dan said, his eyes shadowed with concern. ‘You look like death warmed up tonight.’

  ‘Nothing’s wrong. I’m just a bit—’

  ‘Hey, isn’t he the gorgeous stud you were here with a couple of weeks back?’ Dan lifted a hand to wave at someone over her shoulder.

  She grabbed his wrist, yanked his hand down. Too late. Horror and a sick kind of hope assailed her as she glanced over her shoulder and saw Cal walking through the crowd towards them.

  Panic skittered up her spine. Not here, not now. She wasn’t ready for this.

  ‘I have to go.’ Ignoring Dan’s stunned protest, she grabbed her bag and ran.

  Refusing to look back, she dodged through the crowds. Stepping onto the secluded balcony at the back of the club, she’d got less than three paces before she realised her mistake. There was no way out.

  Footsteps echoed on the decking and sounded deafening even above the hum of music and Friday-night revelry. She held her bag to her midriff. Scared to turn round.

  ‘You’re not going anywhere, Ruby. So we might as well have that talk now.’

  The sound of his voice, rough and low, forced her to face him. He stood only feet away. Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he pulled out the note she’d left him before fleeing his office that afternoon. ‘Perhaps you’d like to start by explaining what this means?’

  She shivered despite the warmth of the summer evening. She mustn’t crack. Not now. The only thing she had now was pride. ‘It means exactly what it says.’

  He flicked it open, read it out loud. ‘“There’s nothing to talk about, Cal. We had fun, but now it’s over. Don’t contact me again.”‘

  She tensed, prayed he wouldn’t come any closer. To see the tremor in her hands, the bloodless knuckles as she clung to her bag. ‘I think that pretty much sums it up.’

  He took a step forward. She scrambled back.

  ‘You call what happened in my chambers this afternoon fun?’

  Her heart lurched. Kicked hard in her chest. She bit hard into her lip to stop the quiver. Gave him a stiff nod as tears formed in her eyes.

  ‘I’d say it was a lot more than that,’ he added, taking another step. ‘Wouldn’t you?’

  Her back hit the balcony rail. She shook her head, choked back a sob. Why was he doing this?

  But as the light reflecting off the canal hit his face she didn’t see challenge, or superiority. She saw confusion.

  Reaching up, he cupped her cheek. She jerked her head back. ‘Don’t. Please don’t touch me.’

  ‘Why don’t you want me to touch you?’

  ‘I can’t,’ she murmured, staring down at her clasped hands. ‘I can’t do this any more.’

  He thrust his hands into his pockets, shook his head. ‘Why not?’

  She shook her head furiously, the tears falling freely now. Of course, his logical, dispassionate nature would want to solve the problem. But she couldn’t tell him. And have the last of her defences shattered.

  ‘For God’s sake, Ruby. You’re crying!’ He sounded horrified. ‘What is it?’ He took her chin in his fingers, lifted her face. ‘You have to tell me so we can sort it out.’

  ‘We can’t sort it out. I have to sort it out on my own.’

  ‘Why?’

  She gulped down a sob and let go. ‘Because I’ve fallen in love with you. And I know you can’t love me back.’

  The words dropped out into silence and she felt him go still. His hand dropped from her face. And her heart shattered all over again.

  He swore under his breath.

  She forced her chin up, brushed aside the errant tears that had escaped. ‘It’s all right, Cal. You don’t have to say anything.’

  The sea-green gaze searched her face. ‘What makes you think you love me?’ he asked, sounding stunned.

  Pride kicked in at last, her spine straightening as she forced herself to smile. She patted his cheek, felt the familiar rasp of stubble. She’d said too much. Far too much. She needed to get out of here now. So she could go home and lick her wounds in private with at least a little of her dignity intact.

  ‘Don’t look so worried, Big Guy,’ she said jauntily, giving an award-worthy performance. ‘You’re not the first. And you certainly won’t be the last.’

  But as she walked past him he grasped her wrist. ‘Ruby, don’t go like this.’ He hesitated, and for the first time since she’d met him she realised he was lost for words. ‘I didn’t mean to … Can we please talk about this?’

  She forced a smile to her lips, but couldn’t make herself meet his eyes. ‘Don’t be silly. It’s not that big a deal.’ She tugged her hand out of his grasp. ‘I’ll get over it. I always do.’

  She heard his whispered curse above the sound of the salsa drums as she walked away, pathetically grateful that the tears cascading down her cheeks were masked by the moonlight.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CAL rapped his fountain pen against the desk as the tightly spaced type of the witness statement he was supposed to be reading bounced in front of his eyes. The hammer clicks of the pen sounded like machine-gun fire, and weren’t making it any easier for him to concentrate. But he couldn’t seem to keep still.

  ‘Would you like me to contact Brady about the Carvelli witness?’

  He glanced up at his clerk Terry’s careful question. ‘What?’

  ‘The Carvelli witness.’ Terry nodded towards the document in his hand. ‘The one whose statement you’ve been reading for the last twenty minutes,’ he prompted.

  Cal stared blankly for several seconds, trying to will his mind to engage. ‘No,’ he said at last, when it resolutely refused to obey his command.

  He put the papers down on his desk, caught his reflection in the varnished mahogany surface and sucked in a breath.

  Sights, sounds and sensations flooded through his system—as they’d been doing far too frequently in the past week.

  Ruby’s full breasts heaving against the confining apron, her soft sobs echoing in his ear, her body clasped tight around his as he came—all wrapped in the scent of vanilla sponge cake, icing sugar and sex. Ruby’s eyes meeting his, rising to any challenge.

  ‘Let’s do this tomorrow, Terry.’ He pulled at the collar of his shirt, which felt as if it were strangling him.

  Terry looked at him a moment, clearly torn. ‘But the trial starts tomorrow and we haven’t—’

  ‘I know, I’ll handle it.’

 
Terry nodded slowly, as if he were trying to placate a wild beast, then gathered up his papers and left. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him Cal hurled the pen across the room and watched it ricochet against the oak panelling.

  ‘Fun!’ The single word echoed off walls lined with leather-bound books. ‘What the hell was fun about it, Ruby?’

  Fantastic. Now he was talking to himself too.

  Having spent a week, make that three weeks, ever since he’d returned from Cornwall in fact, thinking about one woman and one woman only, he’d discovered that he no longer had the ability to think about anything else. His focus, his concentration, his neat, tidy, well-ordered life had been blown to smithereens by a nuclear warhead known as Ruby Delisantro. And she’d had the audacity to call it fun.

  What they had shared had never been fun. Not really. Not for him. And certainly not for her if how she’d looked at him the last time he’d seen her was anything to go by—the sheen of tears turning the chocolate brown of her eyes a rich caramel.

  So why had she put it in her note? He winced. Maybe because he’d said the same thing in his.

  Pushing back from the desk, he stood up and loosened his tie. Undoing the top two buttons of his shirt, he walked over to the chambers window and stared out at the lawn below where a couple of clerks were eating their lunch.

  Those idiotic notes were just a couple of the many mysteries about their relationship that he had been unable to solve. Nothing about their time together made any sense at all. He thrust his hand into his hair, furrowed it into rows.

  Why had the sexual chemistry between them been so electric, for example, even though she’d never been his type? Why had she been able to get to him in ways no other woman ever had before? How had she been able to undermine his stability, his sense of certainty and make him question every single thing he’d ever taken for granted in his life in the space of a weekend? And why hadn’t her declaration of love panicked him nearly as much as her assurance straight afterwards that she would get over it and him, with no trouble at all?