Tessa could do nothing to prevent the melting heat that radiated through her in debilitating waves. He could take her again now, and she wouldn’t want to stop him. But she could and would control her future. There was no place in her future for a man who only wanted to use her, particularly when that man could hurt her as Blaize Callagan could. Not that he knew it. And she didn’t intend that he should know it. She simply knew that he would never give her the kind of loving permanent relationship she wanted with a man.
His eyes returned to hers in blazing challenge. “Miss Stockton, are you seriously suggesting I’m not good enough as a lover for you?” he asked silkily.
Tessa took a deep breath. “Please don’t feel put down, sir.” She managed a dry little smile. “If I were writing a book on the rich and famous, and giving point scores for lovers, you’d score very highly.”
“So?” he shot at her, as though she had just proven his point.
Tessa shrugged. “These things are interludes in life. It’s run its course, sir. Better to accept that and get on with our real lives. I’m sure, if you stop to think about it, sir, you’ll agree with me.”
“And what if I don’t?” he asked softly.
“Perhaps you should give it some more thought, sir. It would be best for both of us if you do agree.” She pushed her lips into an appealing smile. “I’d prefer to remember it ending well.”
He retracted the challenge from his eyes. It was replaced by a wry appreciation. He slowly returned her smile. “I do like your style, Stockton.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He walked over to her, rested his hands lightly on her shoulders and pressed a warm kiss on her forehead. “And thank you... for the interlude,” he said softly.
“My pleasure, sir,” Tessa managed huskily, desperately willing tears back from her eyes.
“So let’s go tie up the Japanese,” he said, a purposeful briskness in his voice.
Back to business, Tessa thought.
It helped.
No doubt about it. She had made the right decision.
But she didn’t feel like a winner.
Tessa didn’t know how she managed to walk to the hotel for breakfast. Her legs performed miracles. She ate some breakfast, but if anyone had asked her afterwards what she had had, she wouldn’t have been able to recollect any part of it. Fortunately the demands of the morning session with the Japanese forced her to concentrate on her shorthand. She was a good secretary and proud of it. And life would be back to normal tomorrow.
Lunch was devoted to wind-up pleasantries. Two deals had been tied up. Everyone was happy. The glow of a successful conclusion to the conference was on every face. Except Tessa’s. However, she did manage to look cool, calm and collected.
At two o’clock the helicopters started arriving. A hotel porter took down a trolley of luggage. The pilots stowed it all away. Farewells were taken. The company men took off in their helicopters first. Blaize Callagan was the last to take leave of the Japanese delegation. He automatically took Tessa’s arm to walk her down the slope of lawn. As soon as they were on the flat she disengaged herself and boarded the helicopter without Blaize’s help. He took his seat by the pilot and they lifted off.
They might have been strangers, Tessa thought, for all the attention he had paid to her since leaving the cottage before breakfast. He had treated her with distant courtesy, no more, no less.
It was the same when they landed in Sydney. He helped her into the waiting limousine, sat beside her and studied documents from his attaché case. It reminded Tessa that she hadn’t transcribed any of her notes from yesterday, and there were all those from this morning, as well.
She cleared her throat. “Mr. Callagan...”
“Mmm... yes, Stockton?” He belatedly lifted his head, as though dragged against his inclination to look inquiringly at her.
Tessa flushed in painful self-consciousness. “All the notes... shall I type them up when I get back to the office?”
“They’re in Rosemary’s attaché case, aren’t they?”
“Yes, sir.”
“They’ll be put safely aside in case they’re needed. Whoever’s been appointed my temporary secretary can transcribe from the tapes. No need for you to do any more, Stockton, unless we run into some audio problem. In which case, my secretary will call on you,” he said dismissively, and returned his attention to his documents.
Tessa turned her face to the window, trying her utmost to ignore him as thoroughly as he could ignore her. This was what she had insisted upon. Complete cutoff. She could have had him as a lover...
No regrets, she told herself savagely.
That was the main rule of an encounter.
She had made the right decision. The way Blaize had cut it all dead from this morning was convincing enough proof of that. So no regrets.
The car pulled up outside the CMA building in North Sydney. Blaize packed away his documents and looked inquiringly at Tessa again.
“Where do you live, Stockton?”
Heat raced into her cheeks again. Did this mean...
“No point in you coming in to the office for these last couple of hours. I’ll take Rosemary’s case with me. As it is, you’ve worked overtime the last few days. I’ll give the driver your address so he can take you home,” he said pleasantly.
Fool! she berated herself. She bit out where she lived and watched him leave the car, aching for something more from him, even though she knew it couldn’t be expected. He spoke to the driver, held up his hand in a last brief salute to her, then strode into the building without a backward glance.
Finis.
The car moved off, taking her to the apartment she had left on Sunday night, the apartment she had shared with Grant Durham. She dragged her mind back to her real life.
The interlude was over.
She had a wedding to call off.
CHAPTER SIX
Tessa’s apartment was in Neutral Bay, very handy to her work place in North Sydney. It was only a ten-minute drive from the office, although the trip took longer by the bus route. The bad news was fairly evident as soon as she walked in to the living room. While Grant was not physically present, his belongings still remained. He hadn’t heeded her ultimatum.
Tessa felt sick at the thought of having to face him. Worse still, it was obvious from the state of the apartment that Grant meant to try for a reconciliation. It was clean and tidy. For Grant Durham, unbelievably so, after three days’ occupation by himself.
Grant hated housework. He tidied up and did a few household chores only when Tessa took a firm stance about it. Nothing was ever done without her asking. He never picked up her clothes or brought her morning coffee like... But there was no point in thinking about Blaize Callagan. The niceties of an encounter were one thing, the niceties of a relationship quite another. All the same, Blaize had been good to her in that respect.