He shrugged.
‘The other things—’ she pulled out a casual-looking dress, holding it between her index finger and thumb ‘—are less...seductive, I suppose. But I don’t think any of them would fit me.’ She frowned. ‘If it was your mother, this makes no sense. She knows what size I am.’
‘Maybe the selection was meant to seduce anyway.’ He fought to steady his voice. ‘You’d be able to wear that, but it would be tighter than what you’re used to. Or more uncomfortable. So you’d—’
‘Be encouraged to wear the lingerie?’
‘I was going to say you’d look different.’ He said the words deliberately now, determined not to show her how the conversation was messing with his head.
‘There’s nothing wrong with how I usually dress.’
‘No,’ he agreed.
‘So...what? Tighter, more uncomfortable—different—clothing would seduce you? And then we’d reunite.’ She said the last words under her breath, as though saying them to herself. ‘There isn’t anything I can wear here that’s appropriate for this.’ She gestured around them.
‘I don’t think my mother intended this.’
‘Us being trapped?’
He nodded. ‘She probably wanted us to go out and enjoy the island like we have in the past.’ He let that sit for a moment. ‘You’re free to use whatever she’s packed for me.’
‘It’ll probably only be jeans and shirts.’
You could wear the lingerie, if you like.
The words seared his brain. Out loud, he said, ‘You’re welcome to help yourself.’
He walked to the other side of the room, as though somehow the distance would keep him from remembering her in lingerie. And what had happened after he’d seen her in lingerie. It would do nothing for his need for control to remember that.
He eyed the alcohol his mother had left on the counter of the kitchen—at least she’d done that—and reached for the rum and soda water, adding ice from the freezer. He was sipping it when he faced her again, but her back was towards him and the memories he’d tried to suppress struggled free, even though he couldn’t see her front.
But he didn’t need to.
Because, from where he stood, he could see the strong curve of her shoulders, the sweeping slope of her neck. He’d only have to press a kiss there, have his tongue join, and she would moan. She’d grab his hands as his mouth did its work and pull them around her, over her breasts, encouraging him to touch them...
He gritted his teeth. Reminded himself—again—that he needed to be in control. But his reaction wasn’t a surprise. His attraction to Rosa had always goaded him in this way. When he’d first seen her—her curves, the curls around her face, the golden-brown of her skin—it had kicked him in the gut.
He’d managed to ignore it for a full year, and only because both their mothers had been going through chemotherapy and acting on his attraction had seemed inappropriate. But their year of friendship hadn’t been enough for him. And their chemistry had constantly reminded him of its presence.
Stalking him. Mocking him.
It was why control was so important now. He couldn’t act on his attraction this time. He couldn’t show Rosa how much she’d hurt him when she’d left. And how shaken he was to see her again. He’d only just begun to face the fact that the morning she’d left might have been the last time he’d ever see her...
Control meant that he had a plan. And plans were how he lived his life. How he made sure his law firm remained successful. How he tried to make sure his mother hadn’t created another problem for him to fix.
He hadn’t had a plan in his marriage, and he’d wondered if that had contributed to how—and why—it had ended so abruptly.
Or had his need to plan been the cause of its end?
He took a long drag from his drink and shook the feelings away. He might not know if his plans—his need for control—had contributed to Rosa leaving, but having a plan was the only way he’d survive the night.
Now he just had to come up with one.
‘DO YOU HAVE any intention of offering me a drink?’ Rosa asked when she turned back and saw Aaron sipping from a glass. It was filled with golden liquid, the kind she was pretty sure would help steady the nerves fluttering in her stomach.
‘What do you want?’ he asked flatly.
She almost winced. ‘Whatever you’re having is fine.’
He nodded and went about making her drink. She walked towards him cautiously and then busied herself with putting the bottles from the counter into the cabinet beneath. It wasn’t necessary, but it was a way to keep her hands busy. Especially since something about his expression made her want to do something remarkably different with her hands.
Or was that because the clothing—the lingerie—had reminded her of all the times she’d wanted to seduce him? Of all the times it had worked?
Her hands shook and she waited for them to steady before she packed the last bottle away.
‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘I know.’
But I was thinking about all the times we made love and I needed a distraction.
‘Do you think your mother left something for us to eat?’
‘Try the fridge.’
She did, though she wasn’t hungry. Again, it was just because she wanted something to do. To distract from the ache in her body. From the ache in her heart.
She found the fridge fully stocked.
‘How nice of her,’ Rosa said wryly. Her patience with Liana had dropped dramatically after the seductive clothing thing. And now, finding the fridge filled with food, she couldn’t deny that Liana had planned this any more.
She’d indulged Liana over the years she’d got to know the woman. Understandably, she thought, considering Liana’s history with her mother. With her, during Violet’s declining health. And...after.
But Rosa had let that influence her view of Liana’s actions. Actions that Rosa had condoned by not speaking out. She wouldn’t let that happen again—once they got out of their current situation.
‘It’s full?’
‘Yeah.’ The hairs on her neck stood when Aaron moved in behind her to look for himself. ‘There’s this dish—’ she took it out, handed it to him—anything to get him away from her ‘—which I assume is something readymade for this evening. And the rest is ingredients to make meals. Eggs, vegetables, that sort of thing.’
‘There was some meat in the freezer.’
Rosa closed the fridge. ‘She’s thought of everything, hasn’t she?’
‘She generally does,’ Aaron said and handed her the drink. She braced herself for the contact, but it didn’t help. A spark flared anyway. She’d never really been able to come to terms with the attraction she felt for him. That she’d felt for him since day one.
Or with your love for him, a voice whispered in her head, reminding her of why she’d had to leave—before either of those things had tempted her into staying.
Staying wouldn’t have done either of them any good.
‘She just doesn’t think about consequences.’