A Solitary Heart (17 page)

while she laughed, pondered, expostulated, and tripped through every

other mood he inspired, he always kept her guessing.

Soon it was time to change for the theatre, and after agreeing upon a

system in which the girls shared the bathroom off Matthew's

bedroom, and the men shared the other bath in the hall, they

dispersed to their various rooms.

Sian savoured the privacy of the study as she drew a dark grey dress

from her case. It was very plain, made of an uncrushable jersey that

looked good no matter how she abused it. It moulded to the figure

with length at mid-thigh, was sleeveless and had a scooped neck and

padded shoulders. It looked severe and sexy, and almost conventional

until one caught a glimpse of the backless plunge to the waist. She

could not wear a bra with it, of course, but then she didn't need one,

for her breasts were high, rounded and firm.

The scrapes along' her back were almost healed, but faint marks still

remained. Sian covered them with a black long-sleeved, silk turtle-

neck that was so transparently sheer that every draught of air wafted

through and the lines of her arms and back were clearly visible, yet

sheathed.

The dress went over the turtle-neck, then she drew on black silk

tights, slipped her feet into the patent leather pumps that elongated

her legs, and fastened at her narrow waist a wide black belt that came

just under the edge of the dress line at her back. Then she brushed her

sleek hair until it shone and clipped it at the nape of her neck with a

plain black, extravagantly feminine bow, and, with make-up applied

to emphasise her large eyes, cheekbones and a touch of red lipstick,

she finally pronounced herself ready.

The evening would still be warm outside the comfortable air-

conditioned coolness of the condominium, so she didn't bother with a

jacket and retrieved her bag from the leather settee as she exited the

study.

The men were already dressed and waiting in the living- room,

formalised by their light summer-weight suits. Sian smiled to herself

as the male conversation hesitated briefly at her entrance, and even

Steven, who was very much in love with Jane, gave pause.

But Matthew hardly looked at her. He said briefly, 'Would you like

some wine, or another glass of lemonade?'

'Wine, please, if it isn't any trouble,' she replied. It was only as she

veiled the disappointment in her green eyes with dark lashes that she

realised she had dressed with such care for him, and he showed no

reaction at all, was even brief to the point of rudeness.

'Not at all, we'd just -'

She turned away to put her bag on the arm of a chair and exposed the

graceful hour-glass curve of her cream and midnight-sheathed back

to view.

If there had been a pause before, now there was dead silence. She

looked around her shoulder with a slight frown. 'You'd just what?'

Joshua and Steven were staring in frank admiration. Matthew,

however, had turned away and busied himself at the drinks cabinet by

the wall, so his reply was muffled. "We'd just opened a bottle while

we were waiting.'

'Sian, you look exquisite,' said Joshua simply.

She forced herself to smile at him. 'Thank you.'

Matt's expression, when presented again to the group, was composed

to the point of being deadpan. In high, volatile contrast were his

glittering eyes, in which the lambent flecks of blue and green were

very pronounced. With the thick tawny length of his hair combed

under severe control and the fresh change to a grey suit much lighter

than Sian's dress, he looked urbane, sophisticated and heart-

stoppingly sexy.

It wasn't fair, she had time to think despairingly, as he crossed the

room with a wine glass in each hand. Just the sight of him was

enough to send her weak at the knees, while he revealed absolutely

no reaction to her whatsoever.

As he came up to her, Jane entered the room and immediately

wandered over to Steven and Joshua to coax a glass of wine for

herself. Sian reached for the glass that Matt proffered, but he held on

to it too long, drawing her questioning gaze up to his.

Under the cover of the shift in movement and general noise from the

others, he said, softly mocking, 'I see the silk and leather. No lace?'

Piqued already, she had no thought for caution and gave free rein to

her own personal devil, who murmured, 'Did I say I wasn't wearing

any lace?'

His eyes shot down in lightning response to her lips and legs, for it

was obvious the only other possible item of clothing she might be

wearing that was not on display were her panties. 'Now, there's a

concept guaranteed to send a man's temperature up a few degrees.'

She took a sip of her wine and held the liquid on her tongue to savour

it, watching him over the rim as she said, 'And here I was thinking

that you didn't like the cut of my cloth.'

'Like it?' His gaze sprang back up to hers, and for one unguarded

moment flared hot and ravenous, while the set of his face was

anything but amused. He whispered hoarsely, 'It's all I can do to keep

my hands off you.'

For a suspended electric moment, they stared at each other, while

Sian's world rocked under the clear, unmistakable power of his intent

rigidity, the veneer of urbanity stripped clean away from the naked

planes and angles of his expression.

Her eyes grew huge and her breath froze in her lungs, and, in a

terrific surge of wild reaction, she didn't know if she wanted to reach

blindly for the towering strength of his shoulders, or run away in

terror.

Then he cocked his head at her, just a little, and smiled a tiny smile,

and took up again the cloak of normality he had so impetuously cast

at her feet.

Matthew said to everyone, 'We'd better leave for the theatre now. Do

you want to catch a few cabs, or would you prefer walking? It's not

far away, about a fifteen- minute stroll.'

The general chorus of reaction was that everyone would like to walk.

Nobody seemed to notice Sian's frozen immobility or her silence; she

noticed and was grateful for she was still trying to recover from what

had just happened.

She felt dizzy, concussed. The stroll to the theatre helped to clear her

head somewhat. Matt led the way, while Jane had grabbed hold of

Joshua's arm and was busy teasing him unmercifully. The pair

bobbed and weaved erratically along the pavement, while Sian and

an amused Steven brought up the rear.

She did not know how he had managed it at such short notice, but

Matt had procured excellent seats for a highly popular romantic

comedy. He presented the tickets to a woman usher who showed the

group where they were located, then he courteously stood back and

let the others file into the seats that were at the end of one row. Sian

had held back so that Jane and Steven could sit together, and as they

studied the seat numbers and compared them with the ticket stubs

Matt had handed to them, they stopped in confusion. Joshua looked

back with a frown and said, 'There's only three here.'

'It's all right,' replied Matt, who gestured carelessly. 'The other two

are over here, across the aisle. It was the best I could get on such

short notice.'

He had only voiced what Sian had thought moments before, but she

regarded him with deep suspicion, for somehow she couldn't help but

wonder if he had somehow arranged for this to happen.

Jane was watching with bright, scarcely concealed merriment. Sian

scowled at her friend, who shrugged expressively, then turned to

cajole Joshua's sharp stare away from his brother.

Matthew raised his eyebrows at Sian. He wore his most guileless

expression. She shook her dark, elegant head at him, and said softly

as she slid into the second seat of the row he indicated, 'You're a very

naughty man, Matt.'

'And unrepentant, one might add,' he replied, and put a proprietorial

hand at her back. The unexpected physical contact of his hand

radiating warmth through the sheer transparency of silk covering her

skin quivered shockwaves through her muscles, and she averted her

head sharply at his barely audible intake of breath.

'Do you always go for what you want, no matter how unscrupulous

the method?' she asked, watching him carefully.

'That's a very subjective question,' he replied coolly as he frowned.

'And I think it depends on what your priorities are. If you want

something so badly that you will do whatever you can to get it, and

pay any price, some people are bound to call that unscrupulous. The

key is to reach out for what you want while still maintaining your

own sense of integrity. For instance, there are parts of myself that I

will not sacrifice, not for love or money. Compassion, consideration,

a sense of justice, and fair dealing in business are but a few. High

safety standards in my work—that's another one. I'm not an idealistic

man, but to me these things are paramount. If I lose them, I lose the

greater part of myself, and money becomes just another dirty word,

and love a meaningless commodity.'

'Faith, hope and charity?' she whispered, turning her gaze to stare

unseeingly ahead of her.

'Yes,' he said with quiet simplicity, and reached out to take her hand

in his.

The house lights dimmed then, and the curtains went up, and for the

next few hours they laughed until their eyes teared at the light-

hearted, witty play. During the interval, Joshua and Steven went to

fetch ice-creams for everybody and Sian was content to relax in her

seat in silence while Matt chatted with Jane, who had come over to

visit them.

When the other two men had returned, and they had eaten their ice-

cream and gone back to their seats to await the second half of the

play, Matthew retained her hand and asked, 'Want to help me fix

breakfast in the morning? I can butter the toast, but I'm not too

confident about cooking eggs for five people.'

'Sure,' she agreed as she pretended her attention was fixed on the

change in sets as the curtains rose again.

All of her awareness, however, was focused on the long tendoned

fingers curled around hers. Then she said softly, 'Thank you again for

having us. Everybody's having a wonderful time.'

His fingers tightened. He replied, 'It was all done for purely selfish

reasons, I'm afraid. Will you come again?'

She turned to him, with a wide searching gaze in which the colourful

stage lights flickered like tiny rainbows over the clear green depths.

Her hand, in his, was very still. He watched her closely as she licked

her lips and finally murmured, 'I'm not sure how easy it would be to

coordinate the time after the others start their jobs.'

His predator's gaze held coiled patience. 'I wasn't inviting the others.'

The play rollicked on, unnoticed. She said nothing, just staring up

him, but the slim fingers lying in his clasp quivered once. 'Sian,' he

said then, carefully, 'why are you so afraid?'

She shook her head and would not answer.

His mouth hardened, but still he was careful. 'Will you come

anyway? I'd take you dancing, and we could go to the movies, or to

the park, or maybe spend an afternoon at the Art Institute. And I

know when you meet them tomorrow night you'll like my friends

every bit as much as I like yours.'

But underlying every picture he painted was the real question, the

heart of the question. Will you come? How could she answer? That

she wanted to, certainly, but that she was afraid as well, which he

already knew. For every reason there was a caution, and for every

caution, the dangerous, heedless desire to fling them to the winds.

'I don't know,' she said helplessly.

Her distress was obvious. He leaned over and brushed his lips against

her cheek. 'There's no hurry to decide,' he murmured languidly in her

ear. 'We've all the time in the world. Just promise me you'll think

about it.'

And, because he had not pressed her for an answer but was instead

considerate and understanding, just as he always was when he was

playing the friend, she found that it was easy to meet him that far. 'A-

all right.'

Matt nodded and turned his attention back to the play. Well, she

thought, that was remarkably painless. She'd answered with no