Page 60 of A Colourful Country Escape
She was talking to the floor, she realised, and backing towards the bed. She shuffled her bottom back into it, pulled her knees up to her chin and dragged the covers around her shivering shoulders. Shame was an ugly, ugly thing.
‘No, I imagine you don’t.’
Did his voice sound unimpressed, or was she being paranoid?
‘Don’t worry, nothing much happened when we got back to the room.’
‘Other than me stripping off my clothes and doing something or other in the bathroom.’ That sounded like more than enough to her.
‘You were pretty drunk. More than I’d realised.’
He was still standing near the doorway, radiating awkwardness and a very interesting bacon smell. But now was not the time to discuss sandwiches.
‘I put you to bed and slept in the chair. I was worried you might croak it.’
‘You put me to bed,’ she repeated. It did not sound sexy, or becoming of her one good pair of undies.
‘Just after you insisted on the striptease.’
Lexie felt the last morsel of dignity cave inside her and her shoulders slumped forwards until she was curled up in a foetal ball.
‘Striptease,’ she repeated dumbly, still processing her thoughts. She winced as some of the highlights leapt in. Which was most mortifying? The fact she’d lunged mouth first at her boss in a convenience store (which suddenly felt particularly inconvenient), that she all but ordered him to fondle her or that he took one look at her tacky efforts at bedroom seduction and decided the armchair was more appealing.
Who had she been kidding that he’d consider her good enough? She had no money, and now she’d taken to behaving as though she was cheap.
Lexie let out a long sigh. Maybe she was just being hard on herself. There had been something there to start with, hadn’t there? A fire between them that she surely hadn’t imagined.
‘So you just went off the idea when you started to sober up,’ she heard herself blurt out.
He paused for a moment. ‘I do have … standards.’
Ouch. ‘I don’t need reminding of your stupid criteria,’ she mumbled. Or that she would never meet them.
‘For example, I expect a woman to be sober enough to make an informed choice.’
And to be loaded, boring and good enough to please your evil mother, Lexie couldn’t help thinking, with a meanness she wished would just bugger off. ‘I’m a big girl. I can make up my own mind.’
‘You barely tolerate me when you’re sober. So if we’re discussing criteria … ’
‘Which we’re not.’ She put her hands to her throbbing head. It was all so confusing, but she did not need him to list her inadequacies. She felt shitty enough as it was. A game of ‘how will I never love thee, let me count the ways’ was not her idea of hungover fun.
‘Miss Summers … ’
She held up a hand to stop him. Last night it had made her heart thump when he’d called her that, but this morning it just felt belittling.
‘And the thing about the bathroom?’ God, why was she even asking? Hadn’t she tortured herself enough?
‘I was just taking off my jacket. You ran to the bathroom to be sick.’
Sick. That was the polar opposite of the classy, impress-one’s-snooty-mother material he was looking for. No wonder he’d turned his nose up. He’d probably brought her P45 in one of those bags.
She studied him through her knees. Was his face reddening? Christ, he was embarrassed for her. Embarrassed about the whole sodding thing. And what if he did want to get rid of her after this humiliating encounter?
Her aching heart sank. As weird as the whole situation had been at first, she was enjoying her job with Carrington Paints. And Mrs Moon, Tom and Cory were starting to feel like an admittedly odd family. She didn’t want to be booted out.
Right, she would have to iron out this awkwardness. Nip the entire ill-judged situation in the bud. Make clear she wasn’t an untrustworthy nymph who was after Ben’s money or his manhood. From then on she’d be a reliable employee, eager to get on with her job and not cause fuss. And the sooner Mrs Carrington-Noble sorted out a suitable wife for him, the better. Then Lexie would be safe from any more ridiculous temptation.
‘You should cooperate with your mother and find yourself a respectable wife. And please. Forget about this.’ She waved a hand over the detritus of the room. Discarded clothing. Towels covered in make-up. Was that an unopened packet of … God.
