Page 194 of Lovers' Dance

“Madison DuMont,” he began in a stern voice. “Why am I hearing tales of you and Dougal McGregor enjoying lunch at The Dorchester? That’s one of our favourite restaurants, so I know it’s highly unlikely to be true.” Matt scowled at the screen. “But, on the slim chance it is, I’m asking you now. Did you meet with McGregor for lunch today?”

Her face was a picture. A surprised picture of uneasy shock. “How on earth do you know about my lunch with Dougie?” she asked.

Matt’s jaw clenched, ignoring the delicious smells wafting up from the food on the table. “So it is true. Do you mind explaining why you, my girlfriend, were out with that womanizing poser?”

She was staring at him, mouth parted slightly, dark brown doe eyes wide.

“Anytime now will do, Madison,” Matt ordered.

“This is unbelievable,” she muttered, pulling the clip out of her hair and shaking her fingers through her curls. “You’re in the Netherlands. How could you know about my lunch with—”

“That’s beside the point. Why were you with McGregor? How on earth did you meet him?”

“He came to the studio,” she began.

“He what?” Matt asked. “He showed up at your work?”

“I know, right?” she said, twirling a curl around her finger. “Showed up out of the blue and invited himself to lunch at my expense. He’s something else, Matt.”

Matt did not like this development at all. The fact McGregor had shown up at her work was downright alarming, and a move similar to ones Matt had done many a times in the past when in pursuit of a woman he desired. Surprise her with a complete take-charge attitude, then lavish her with affection. Matt had to admit the Scotsman had balls. Shame he would be losing them soon. Right about the time Matt returned to the UK and found his sorry arse.

“I don’t want you socializing with McGregor, poppet. If he contacts you—”

She frowned at him from the screen. “It was only lunch. He was in London on business and wanted to meet up. He’s harmless and funny.”

Matt returned her frown. “I don’t want him around you. He’s a cad, and you’re too naïve to see it.”

Her brown eyes narrowed. “Excuse me? Naïve? It was lunch, Matt. A nice lunch that I spent yakking about you half the time, anyway.”

“You talked about me with that clown?” Matt asked, outraged.

She paused, uncertain about his obvious anger. “Nothing personal. Just how great things are between us. Are you jealous?” she asked in a pointed manner. “Because you don’t have to be. Dougie has a girlfriend. He told me about her and she sounds nice. Did you know his family has been in the whiskey business for centuries? And we talked about Scotland. I’ve never been, you know. Maybe we should—”

“Madison,” Matt cut her off tersely. “I don’t care about Dougal McGregor. I care about the fact you were seen in public with him. You need to understand how these things can be perceived. I will not have people gossiping about me, and you meeting another man for lunch is food for gossip. Stay away from McGregor,” he commanded.

Through his screen Matt could see the flurry of emotions skip across her face, finally settling on frustration. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, Matt. I don’t know how things work in your world and I’m trying here. It was lunch.”

“Make sure it was the last lunch you have with him. You can’t do these things, Madison. Appearances are important in my world, and your behaviour is not in line with what it should be,” Matt said, in a voice as frustrated as the look on her beautiful face.

“It’s never enough, is it?” she asked, lower lip quivering. “I’m always going to do something outside what is expected of someone with a man like yourself, aren’t I? I’m trying to fit in, Matt, but I wasn’t born into this life. I don’t know the expected etiquette. It was lunch. You don’t think I find it difficult? Being the black girlfriend—”

“Don’t start with that,” he groused. “I’m not in the mood to discuss your feelings of racial inequality.”

“Fine,” she said coldly. “How about we discuss your behaviour, Matt?”

Matt peered at her through his laptop. “I beg your pardon? My behaviour?”

“Yes, Matt. Like the fact you practically forced me into therapy. What? You think because I haven’t said anything that I’ve gotten over what you did?”

Matt ran a hand through his slightly damp hair. “It was for your own good, Madi.”

“I know,” she replied in a tight voice. “I know I need help, but you didn’t ask if I was ready for it. No, you did what you usually do, which is whatever you want to do whenever you want to do it.”

“I’m paying quite a lot for you to get the best help—” Matt stopped when he saw the dangerous expression on her features.

“No, I’m paying for it, Matt. After you ‘ambushed’ me with Dr Brown, my next session I made arrangements to pay her directly.”

“What?” Matt sat up straighter. “But I’ve been sending transfers from one of my personal accounts—”

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