The pity in Sam’s apology caused Cesare’s brows to twitch into a straight line.
‘You are sorry for what?’ he enquired warily.
‘Well, that she left you, of course!’ Sam retorted, her voice cracking with dislike and aggravation as she immediately contradicted herself by adding, ‘Though I don’t blame her, because you may be blind but you’re still a total bastard. You know, I really wish that I had slept with you for a story…because if I had I would be feeling a lot less stupid now!’ she declared shrilly.
‘Then if not for a story, why did you sleep with me?’
Sam ignored the question. She’d had practice—she’d been doing just that to the ones in her own mind for the last twelve weeks. ‘You think I’d write about what happened? You think I want to advertise the fact I slept with you! You think I want my family and friends to know?’ She shook her head and told him grimly, ‘Nothing could be farther from the truth. I’m ashamed of what I did!’
Having listened to her emotional diatribe with an expression approaching boredom, he leapt on her last comment.
‘You think sex is something to be ashamed of?’
The suggestion brought an angry flush to her cheeks.
‘Only sex with you! I’ve had relationships—I was engaged.’ He really does not need to know this, she told herself.
‘Engaged?’ For some unfathomable reason Cesare experienced a flash of searing anger at the image that went with this statement.
‘Yes, engaged! For your information I have a perfectly healthy attitude to sex! I’m not some sort of repressed…’ She stopped, just managing to cut her retort short of total suicidal disclosure—it turned out she needn’t have bothered.
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