Dismissing her at the premier was one thing. But issuing a statement?
Clive returned and sat down, his eyes on her. “Everything all right, love? Why so serious?”
Corina popped a smile, exchanging theLibPpage for her recording app. “Peachy. And you? Hope the call was good news.”
“Just a friend,” Clive said. “Wanting a favor. Asking if I’d attend the Children’s Literacy Foundation Art Auction this evening. I said, ‘Why not?’ Guess we can do dinner another night. Say, Corina,”—Clive covered her hand with his—“are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes.” She exhaled. “As my granny used to say, ‘I’m right as rain.’ ”
TWENTY
Foot elevated on the stool, his skin blue from drowning his ankle in a bucket of ice, Stephen scrolled through his mental diary, making note of the days ahead, a swath of sun blanketing his office windows.
The light thawed his cold bones though a hardened lacquer baked around his heart. He’d spent the ice session numbing his feelings for Corina.
Last night’s kiss left him jammed up, and tossing and turning through the night. Just as he’d drift away, he’d hear her voice—“Babe . . .”—and feel her touch. Then he’d pop wide awake, wanting her.
At 3:00 a.m., he remanded himself to the media room and watched the film of the summer internationals sent over by Coach Stuart.
Around 5:00 a.m., he fell asleep and dreamt of nothing. Just the way he liked it.
“Sir?” Robert popped into the room. “Teatime.”
“Good man.” Stephen lowered his foot and massaged the blood back into his toes. His ankle always felt strong after the ice. But when his blood warmed, the weaknesses surfaced and his limp returned.
Robert trolleyed in the tea cart, setting up by the chairs. “You’re all arranged for the art auction tonight, sir. The limousine will pull round at seven forty-five. Shall you dress at seven fifteen?”
“That’s fine.” Stephen popped a chocolate biscuit in his mouth. He expected the butler-valet-aide to exit, but when he turned, the man stood by the door. “What is it?”
“Your brother is on his way.”
“Now? Did he say why?”
“No, only asked if you were on the premises.” Robert backed out of the room.
Wonder what he wants? He couldn’t be upset at the morning photos. He was on board with Stephen attending the premier with Corina. Which, when Stephen thought on it, was rather odd.
“Get her to sign the annulment papers,” he’d said. Whilst his actions said, “Be with her.”
Stephen was glad the kiss happened after midnight, in the shadows, without the probing eye of the press. Impulse could indeed be his very good friend. He’d not kissed a woman in a very long time. Five and a half years to be exact. When Corina kissed him good-bye.
“I’ll go.” Tears streamed down her face. “But I don’t understand.”
Silence. If he opened his mouth, he’d break. Tell her the truth. He had to remove her from his life.
“Tell me, do you not love me?”
“Corina . . .” He propped against the wall as she stood by the open door. Otherwise, he’d sink to the floor in a huddled mess.
“Then can you at least kiss me?” She brushed her hand over his chest, moving into him. Passion fired through him.
When her lips touched his, he remained stiff and unyielding. Cold.
Stephen pinched the memory and sipped his tea, searching for the telly remote. Wonder what Madeline and Hyacinth have to say this afternoon? The telly was already tuned to their station.
“Madeline,” Hyacinth said, aiming the front page of theLibPat the camera, “this was all the scuttlebutt this morning, the prince with this gorgeous American, Corina Del Rey.”
“Who tweeted our show Friday afternoon, yet he sat right here, denying anything between them.”
