‘Don’t tell me, you expected them all to die in agony?’
She arched one eyebrow. ‘From what I hear, dying is a common theme in opera. But I did my research. I know no one dies inThe Marriage of Figaro.’
Of course she’d researched. That was his Greer, thorough as always.
‘But I thought it would be more serious. After all, the count wants to betray his wife and force himself on her maid. Susanna and Figaro rely on him for their jobs and home. It’s about sexual predation. Coercion.’
Something grabbed hard at Conall’s gut as Greer’s gem-bright gaze turned away. Could that be how she viewedhim? This evening out? As coercion by her boss?
The number of times he’d held himself back from her, creating barriers. Dating women who should have fascinated him yet left him unmoved. He’d spent such a long time keeping Greer at a distance, because seducing his PA went against every principle. Especially given his father’s predilection for pursuing beautiful women, no matter what their circumstances.
‘Greer, I don’t want you to think—’
She turned back, smiling, then her eyes widened as someone bumped into Conall. There was a splash as his drink sloshed out onto his shirt, followed by a flurry of apologies.
He nodded absently, still focused on Greer. But she shoved her wine into his hand and opened her small evening purse.
‘There.’ She brandished a handful of tissues triumphantly and moved in, dabbing his lapel and wet shirt. Pushing his lapel aside, she pressed the tissues against him so the heat of her hand spread across his pectoral muscle like a soft brand.
His words died as the light scent of spring flowers filled his nostrils. Spring flowers and the subtle, intriguing scent of Greer. The combination hit so hard he rocked on his heels.
Conall looked down at her sleek, dark hair, falling like a curtain around her shoulders. At the tiny furrow of concentration on her brow that he found intriguing and bizarrely arousing.
He’d never found another woman’s frowning concentration alluring. A quick mind and an ability to solve problems should be admirable, not sexy.
He’d known she was trouble the day she’d walked into his office in her sombre trouser suit and pulled back hair, barely concealing her doubts about taking on the job. Greer Munro tempted him too much.
But he’d been greedy. He’d seen how good she was at the work and told himself he could handle a little temptation.
That was the last time he’d underestimated her impact.
Finally she must have noticed how rock still he stood. She lifted her head eyes locking on his, and he heard a wisp of sound as she sucked in air.
Was his hunger so visible?
Yet instead of stumbling away, she stayed right where she was, close enough for her breath to waft across his chin.
‘Conall?’
‘You know I’d never try to coerce—’
Her eyes turned huge. ‘Don’t! I’dneverthink that.’
She shook her head, more distressed than he’d ever seen her. Even when she’d lain, bandaged and bruised in a hospital bed, wearing a faded hospital gown and all sorts of medical monitors, she hadn’t appeared so upset.He’dbeen the one who felt undone. The shock of his raw emotions around Greer had been a revelation to a man versed in keeping an emotional distance from others.
As if belatedly realising that her palm was planted firmly on his chest, she jerked her hand free of his jacket, balling up the damp tissues.
Conall wanted to grab her wrist because he already missed her touch. But this wasn’t the place. Despite his determination to get close, they still had to go at her pace. Nothing else was acceptable.
She retrieved her glass from his hand, inadvertently brushing his fingers. He felt it like a desert plant, soaking up the first drops of a rare rainstorm. The muscles in his arms pulled tight with the effort of not reaching for her.
‘I’d never think you’d coerce a woman, Conall. I know you, remember?’ A slow smile curved her mouth, easing the tension around his lungs. ‘It’s one of the things Idoknow, thankfully.’
Yet he said nothing. For even as he returned her smile, an inner voice whispered,She thinks she knows you, but she’s wrong, isn’t she? She only knows what you let her see.
What will she think when her memory comes back?
A bell dinged, loud and continuous. The call to return to their seats.
