It had been the last thing she’d expected him to say, and her breath left her lungs in a sigh—her first indication that she had been holding her breath in the first place! She swallowed hard. ‘No, I—I think I’ll just sit here for a while,’ she refused awkwardly, not sure if her legs would support her if she should attempt to stand up!
Lyon looked down at her searchingly. ‘Are you still feeling ill?’
She shook her head, the damp tendrils of hair cold about her flushed face. ‘I had been swimming for almost an hour when you arrived,’ she dismissed the suggestion—although she did feel slightly weak-kneed in this man’s presence!
He nodded, straightening, at last removing his hand from her hair—and allowing Silke to breathe once again! ‘I won’t be long,’ he assured her—before diving neatly into the clear water and swimming towards the opposite end of the pool with evenly strong strokes.
He could stay in the water for the rest of the day as far as Silke was concerned; that way she might be able to relax her jangled nerves, and force herself to breathe easily! He really was the most infuriating—! No, he wasn’t infuriating, she admitted heavily; she was just in love with the man—which had to be worse!
What was she going to do about her feelings towards this man? What could she do? He was Henry’s nephew, had been brought up as the son the older man had never had, and with Silke’s mother’s marriage to his uncle Lyon was going to be in her own life for a long time to come. Which was going to be like hell on earth!
She had, in fact, spent much of the weekend and this morning thinking what she was going to do about the situation. And she hadn’t come up with any solutions, other than actually moving away from the area completely, possibly even going abroad somewhere. Maybe if she went to America she might be able to get somewhere with her designs. It was the only really feasible idea she had come up with so far, but it seemed a little drastic even so.
‘You are pensive, aren’t you?’ Lyon frowned as he sat down on the lounger next to hers, towelling the darkness of his hair dry as he did so.
Silke forced a lightness to her expression. ‘Deep in thought,’ she corrected dismissively.
‘Concerning what?’ Lyon still watched her intently.
She gave a light laugh. ‘Really, Lyon, you’re being extremely rude; aren’t a person’s thoughts supposed to be the one thing that is completely private?’
He gave a rueful smile. ‘I thought we had both agreed that I am “extremely rude”; so what were you thinking about?’
She couldn’t very well say, ‘You!’ ‘The future,’ she shrugged. ‘I have a few decisions to make.’
‘About Cameron?’ he bit out, his eyes narrowed, the white towel about his neck now as he sat forward on the lounger.
Silke gave an impatient sigh. ‘I thought I told you James means nothing to me; he certainly doesn’t come into any of my plans for the future!’
Lyon nodded dismissively. ‘Good!’ he said with satisfaction. ‘Then what are these plans? No,’ he added firmly. ‘Before you tell me what you’re thinking of doing, let me tell you of the offer Buchanan’s wants to make to you.’
‘No!’ She sat up abruptly, dark green eyes flashing a warning. ‘I don’t want Buchanan’s to “make me an offer”—’
‘Buchanan’s—or me?’ he grated harshly.
‘Aren’t they one and the same?’ she challenged.
‘Possibly,’ he conceded softly.
‘Definitely,’ she said with feeling. ‘And less than two weeks ago you believed I was nothing but a little gold-digger who intended marrying your uncle for what I could get! The fact that it was my mother who married Henry instead doesn’t change that fact, and I have no intention of accepting anything from you or Buchanan’s!’
‘It’s not a question of accepting anything—’
‘Yes, it is,’ she interrupted with feeling. ‘What happened between us last week hasn’t helped the situation either.’ Colour darkened her cheeks even as she mentioned the subject.
His mouth tightened. ‘This offer has nothing to do with that!’
‘Doesn’t it?’ she scorned. ‘I doubt very much that’s true. You had absolutely no interest in my designs until then.’
‘I hadn’t seen any of them then!’ Lyon rasped, eyes lightly grey.
‘You haven’t seen any of them now!’ Silke returned heatedly. ‘The set I was wearing on Saturday is not enough for you to base a serious decision like this—’
‘I’m a businessman, Silke,’ he cut in harshly. ‘I never make business decisions lightly. Of course I’ve seen other of your designs, as have the rest of the board. And we all agreed that—’
‘Just a minute,’ she interrupted softly, holding up a silencing hand. ‘When did you see any other of my designs?’ She looked at him searchingly.
He returned that gaze just as searchingly, the anger and suspicion in her face unmistakable. ‘Hmm,’ he finally murmured. ‘I have a feeling we have a serious problem here.’
Silke’s gaze didn’t waver. ‘When did you see other of my designs, Lyon?’ she repeated evenly, the flashing of her eyes belying that calmness.
He shrugged. ‘Last week. At the board meeting. All the board saw them.’
‘And just how did my designs get into your board meeting, Lyon?’ she asked steadily. But she knew. Of course she knew!
How dared they? And she knew it had to be ‘they’; Henry might have the arrogance to present her designs to Buchanan’s board without her permission, but she didn’t for one moment believe he had been the one to acquire them from her flat in the first place. Her mother had to have been involved in this too. And Silke was furious at their interference in her life in this underhand way.
Lyon drew in a deeply controlling breath. ‘Henry didn’t have your permission to show them, did he?’ he said slowly, eyes narrowed thoughtfully on her flushed face.
‘Of course he didn’t,’ she snapped. ‘I told him exactly what I thought of the idea of my designs being introduced at Buchanan’s!’
Lyon nodded. ‘Because you genuinely don’t believe your designs are good enough—or because of me?’
The colour deepened in her cheeks. ‘Of course my designs are good enough—’ She broke off abruptly, her gaze challenging as she saw the derision in his face at her admission of its being him that was the problem.
Well, she would be lying if she claimed otherwise; no one in their right mind, in normal circumstances, would pass up the opportunity to market their jewellery designs in a prestigious store like Buchanan’s. And she might not be a lot of things, but she was definitely in her right mind. But these were not normal circumstances, and she had no intention of using her new family connection to achieve that end.
‘So it’s me,’ Lyon said softly.
‘Not for the reason you think!’ she denied heatedly.
Dark brows rose over silver-grey eyes. ‘And what reason do I think?’ he challenged evenly.
‘Look, Lyon—’ she stood up, moving away from him, needlessly tightening the belt on her towelling robe ‘—I don’t feel like playing games—’
‘I’m not playing games, Silke.’ He had stood up too, was now standing dangerously close behind her. Dangerously. Because when he was this close to her Silke couldn’t even think straight, let alone try and match him in a verbal way. ‘Why am I such a problem to you?’
‘You aren’t a—problem—to—me...’