Rhys was at his most endearing when he was trying not to smile. ‘Really? It was my favourite part of the night so far.’
His face suddenly sobered. ‘You asked earlier why I invited you tonight.’
I nodded.
His eyes closed for a moment, and I wondered if the memory of me acting like an over-enthusiastic cheerleader was playing silently behind his lids. I prayed he wasn’t imagining pompoms.
‘Tonight is probably the last time I’ll attend an event like this. I’ve stepped off the corporate treadmill, which makes this evening feel like a landmark moment. And it just felt right to share it with someone who’d been beside me for another recent landmark moment.’ He smiled. ‘Besides, I knew that if we won, you’d be genuinely excited and happy for me. And you were.’
‘I have to say, you set a fairly low bar for picking your dates.’ I shook my head as though I wasn’t sure I believed him.
‘Actually, I don’t. It’s just that you blow everyone else out of the water.’
We were sailing straight into dangerous uncharted seas, and it was with both relief and regret that I saw the woman with the clipboard approaching the table.
‘Could I steal all the prize-winners away for some official photographs.’
Rhys got to his feet with a look of obvious reluctance. ‘We’ll continue this later,’ he promised, his breath warm on the shell of my ear as he whispered the words.
Chapter Twenty-One
‘Where’s that gorgeous blonde he’s usually with? Anna-something-or-other.’
I stiffened, freezing like a statue on the deserted balcony in the warm night air.
‘Rhys? You’re well behind the times, mate. I don’t think they’ve been together since that messy business with Marco,’ a second man replied. ‘Personally, I prefer the upgrade.’
I lost whatever was said next as a bus rumbled over the cobblestoned street below me. Many years ago, my mother had warned me eavesdroppers seldom hear anything good about themselves. I had a horrible suspicion she was about to be proved right. Half of me wanted the two gossiping men to move away from the French windows, which were open just far enough to allow their voices to reach me on the balcony. The other half hoped they’d stay right where they were.
‘It’s always the redheads you need to watch out for. They’re all fire and passion.’
The only fire right now was the one setting my cheeks alight, and as for passion... well, that was a word that had practically dropped out of my vocabulary over the last three years.
With the presentations over, people had left their tables to mingle, and after a minute, I too got to my feet. I could have circled the room; it would certainly have been a great opportunity to do some networking, and there were more than enough business cards in my bag to pass around. But that’s exactly where they stayed. After one circuit of the room, I’d spotted a temptingly ajar French window and slipped out onto the stone-balustraded sanctuary.
The night air hit my lungs like an antidote from the clashing cocktail of three hundred different perfumes and aftershaves in the library. It was still warm enough to not regret leaving my wrap draped over the back of my chair. I stepped to the edge of the balcony, resting my hands on the worn Georgian stonework, which still retained the heat of the day.
The lights of the city were laid out before me, a twinkling panorama of trapped fireflies that would look totally different when daylight changed them back into buildings, traffic signals, and streetlamps. The hum of traffic from the street below was in competition with the strains of a saxophone played by a busker at the crossroads several floors below me. His repertoire seemed to consist entirely of love songs.
I looked up into the star-studded sky, wondering why the universe was determined to keep giving me so many reasons to make this night into a memory that wasn’t mine for the taking.
Not when there were other forces in play with the exact opposite agenda. Helen’s poorly disguised venom and the overheard conversation were just the tip of the iceberg. There were people here, people who’d known Rhys far longer than I had, who obviously believed he and Annalise were still unfinished business.
Was I in danger of becoming the one thing I’d always sworn I would never be? Was I the obstacle in someone else’s path? The fly in the ointment? I shook my head, refusing to hide behind euphemisms. If I didn’t halt whatever this was right now, was I in dangerof becoming the other woman? I didn’t do triangles; never had, never would. They were the worst kind of relationship geometry. I might not be able to recall my mother ever reading me a fairy story, but her cautionary tale of never allowing yourself to become involved with a man whose heart was committed elsewhere, that I could definitely remember.
I kept telling myself – and anyone else who would listen – that Rhys and I were friends, and a friend would want to help him make the right decision and support him whatever he chose to do.
A friend wouldn’t be spending her nights wondering what his lips would feel like crushing her mouth. Or imagining his body pressed hard upon hers, reminding them that miraculously they were both still amazingly and incredibly alive, and that the best way to celebrate that would be to —
‘There you are.’
A slice of warm yellow light from the library grew wider as Rhys nudged open the French window and stepped out onto the balcony to join me. He pushed the door shut behind him, blocking out the noise of the gathering.
‘I’m sorry. I had no idea that would take so long. I hope you weren’t bored.’
‘Not at all. It’s been an interesting night. I’ve liked meeting your friends.’ Helen’s face flashed into my thoughts. ‘Well, most of them,’ I corrected on a wry laugh that I knew he’d understand.
‘They’re not bad people. It’s not a bad life. It’s just not a life I want to live anymore. I don’t want to be working until midnight, chasing deadlines or neglecting the people I love, just so I can spend more time at work. Who wants to live like that?’