The Party Starts at Midnight

‘Oh?’ she said, her voice a lot breathier and her heart beating a lot faster than was appropriate for a woman who never lost herself or clung, and who’d sworn never again to think about what she’d seen when that bed sheet had slipped.

‘I’d like to apologise for what happened earlier.’

‘You already did,’ she said with an overly bright smile, as if beaming like a maniac might somehow detract from the giveaway blush she could feel burning her cheeks and the breathlessness.

‘Not enough. Not nearly enough. I was totally out of order.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘It was a misunderstanding.’

Taking a couple of deep steadying breaths and pulling herself together because she had absolutely no business fantasising about him, Abby twisted round and slipped her feet back into the vices that were her shoes. ‘I’ll say.’

‘But not one I’d ever make under normal circumstances.’

‘No, well, I guess the circumstances weren’t all that normal,’ she said, trying not to wince as leather heel met sore blister.

‘They weren’t. I’ve spent the last month scoping out development possibilities across a dozen countries on three continents. I barely know what time zone I’m in.’

‘As you said, I must have given you quite a shock.’

He nodded. ‘You did.’

‘You were probably a bit disorientated. Confused, even.’

‘I was. And I’m sorry.’

‘It’s fine,’ she said with a wave of her hand and a reassuring smile as she straightened and turned back to him. ‘Really. It’s not an issue.’

‘Are you sure?’

She nodded, crossed her legs to ease at least one of her poor lacerated heels and linked her hands around her knee. ‘Absolutely. I’m not going to go round telling everyone you accused me of being a prostitute, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

He arched an eyebrow. ‘No?’

‘Of course not. In my business discretion is a given. Whatever the occasion and whatever the circumstances. So your secret is perfectly safe with me.’

His expression didn’t flicker for a second, but Abby thought she detected a slight ease in the tension gripping his shoulders and there was definitely a faint smile playing at his mouth. ‘Thank you.’

‘Anyway, I’m sure there are perfectly valid reasons for thinking that your brother would procure a prostitute for you,’ she said, curiosity getting the better of her because the Cartwright brothers were notoriously private, this one being especially hard to read, and she suddenly wanted to know everything.

‘Possibly.’

‘Care to share them?’

‘Not particularly.’ He rubbed a hand along his jaw and regarded her thoughtfully. ‘You know, I’d actually quite like to forget about the whole thing.’

‘Oh, so would I, so would I,’ she said with a regretful shake of her head as she decided she wasn’t above a little emotional manipulation if it meant finding out what was going on behind that stony façade of his. ‘But you see it’s going to niggle away at me for days.’ She bit her lip and frowned. ‘And now I think about it, maybe I do deserve an explanation.’

Leo arched an eyebrow. ‘In return for your silence?’

She tsked and grinned. ‘You make it sound like blackmail.’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘Not at all. It’s a simple clarification of the facts for the purposes of moving forward.’

He tilted his head, his smile deepening a little. ‘Fair enough. Jet lag doesn’t suit me.’

‘I wouldn’t have thought excessive alcohol suited jet lag.’

‘It doesn’t.’

‘Then why the overindulgence?’

‘I wouldn’t call an inch of whisky an overindulgence.’

‘An inch?’