“Yes?” His voice, warm dark velvet, was a breath away from her ear.
“Have you ever cheated?” she asked softly, still gazing intothe fire.
She could feel his heartbeat thud across the inch of air behind her, but he was silent for along time.
“I’m sorry, it’s none of my business, I shouldn’t have asked.”
George felt himself flush like a schoolboy caughtstealing.
A few hours, that’s all. He’d been single—to all intents and purposes—until a fewhours ago.
If he hadn’t sent the flowers, if he hadn’t called Beatrice, if, if, if.
The bitterness was galling; he almost gagged. He couldn’t speak. He could hardly breathe.
He tried to remind himself why Millie was off limits. Because… he struggled to pull his scattered thoughts back together. Because a relationship with Millie would only end like all the others, suspicion and resentment followed by coldness and hurtfeelings.
Except in Millie’s case, she would lose her job, and after her bastard husband had walked away with everything, she didn’t need bastard George to takethe rest.
“George?” Millie spoke again in that slow bedroom voice.
His name sounded like a caress when she said it; his resolve wobbleda little.
“What?” he whispered.No, don’t flirt. He cleared the huskiness from his throat and said it again louder. “What?”
“I’m sorry.” She started to twist towards him.
He caught her elbows and pulled her forwards. “Don’t turn around, please, Millie.” He didn’t need to see her front. Christ, that thin strappy vest thing stretched over her—he could do without seeing that.
“Sorry.”
“About what?”
“Making you miss your flight. I seem to keep doing that.”
He smiled. The unexpected answer broke the spell.Thank God.
“Well, you’ve only done it twice.” His smile widened. “Strictly speaking, only once because tonight wasn’t your fault. You weren’t to know about the tide, city girllike you.”
“No, but I should have called. I just forgot myself.”
Oh, good, someone else who enjoyed guilt as much as he did. “Have you been hereall day?”
“Yes. I got here early thismorning.”
“What did you find to do on this God-forsaken hill of rockand weed?”
She leaned forward, pushing the blanket aside to reach her bag, and started pulling out what looked like twigs and grasses and leaves.
“Hungry?” sheasked him.
And this time he laughed.
Apparently, she wasn’t joking. She got up on her knees and laid some of her cuttings on the embers at the edge ofthe fire.
He watched her, fascinated. “You must be very hungry if you are going to eat—green and purple sticks. Whatis this?”
“Wild asparagus. It should be delicious.” She was laying more brambly things on the fire. “Green mallow and pig’s-foot—”
