LITMIR.BIZ

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she realised, but in the end it hadn’t been the wedding or meeting Ben or fooling her family that had made her nervous. It had been Gib himself, Gib with his glinting, unsettling smile, and his warm hand on her back.

      You’re beautiful and you’re brave, he had told her, and it had been the look in his eyes she had been thinking about when she watched Ben getting married, not the ache in her heart. The look in his eyes and touch of his mouth and the feel of his palm against her cheek.

      It would have been much easier if he hadn’t kissed her. Really, there had been no need for it, Phoebe scolded herself. If she’d thought, it would have been obvious that no one would expect them to kiss like that in the middle of Ben’s wedding. She should have told Gib that it was a stupid idea and pushed him firmly away.

      Instead of which she had wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer and kissed him back. A wave of heat that had nothing whatsoever to do with the bath tingled through her as she remembered how it had felt, and when a sharp knock fell on the door her heart jerked painfully.

      ‘I’ve got a long, cold G&T here for you,’ came Gib’s voice. ‘If I promise to keep my eyes closed, shall I bring it in to you?’

      ‘Just a minute,’ she said on a gasp as she slid decorously beneath the deep layer of bubbles. ‘OK,’ she called.

      Gib handed her the drink with a flourish. It looked wonderful, satisfyingly full of chinking ice cubes, a slice of lime bobbing merrily as the tonic fizzed. Her fingers touched his as she took the glass from him. It was so cold that condensation was trickling down the side, making it hard to hold.

      That was the reason Phoebe gave herself for the unsteadiness of her grasp anyway. Nothing whatsoever to do with the warmth of Gib’s hand.

      ‘Got it?’

      ‘Yes. Thanks,’ she added, and then made another mistake of looking up into his face.

      He was studying her with appreciative blue eyes, taking in her bare shoulders rising out of the foam. Her hair was slicked back from her face, unconsciously emphasising her bone structure, and the dark lashes were wet and spiky around the green eyes.

      ‘My pleasure,’ he said, smiling.

      To her fury, Phoebe felt a blush rising up her throat and seeping into her cheeks. ‘I thought you were going to keep your eyes closed?’ she said as severely as she could.

      ‘I was afraid I would drop your drink if I did that,’ said Gib. ‘I’ll close them now.’

      Shutting them virtuously, he proceeded to make a big show of bumping into things on his way out of the bathroom.

      ‘Idiot!’ sighed Phoebe, shaking her head, but in spite of herself she was smiling.

      She didn’t know whether it was the bath or the gin that did the trick, but she was feeling a million times better when she emerged from the bathroom some time later to find Gib stretched out on the four-poster bed.

      He had loosened the shirt at his neck and rolled up his sleeves and was lying with his hands behind his head. He looked lean and lazy, and somehow disturbing, and Phoebe’s nerves, which had calmed down while she was in the bath, instantly sprang to the alert again at the sight of him.

      Gib turned his head as she came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towelling robe supplied by the hotel, her skin pink and glowing. There was a tiny pause.

      ‘Better?’ he asked after a moment.

      ‘Yes, thank you,’ said Phoebe stiffly. She felt ridiculously shy of him again all of a sudden. ‘You can have the bathroom now if you want.’

      ‘I’ll have a shower in a bit.’ He yawned, and suddenly it was as if that moment of tension had never been. ‘I’m just enjoying this bed. It’s very comfortable. You should try it,’ he added, patting the cover beside him and pulling up some pillows invitingly.

      Phoebe hesitated. Every instinct told her that climbing into bed next to Gib was asking for trouble, but it was too soon to get changed and the only other place to sit was a wooden chair which was no doubt authentic but which didn’t look at all comfortable.

      And anyway, she wasn’t getting into bed with him, she rationalised. She was just getting onto it, which was a different matter entirely. Gib just happened to be sitting there as well. What could possibly be awkward about that?

      So she clambered up beside him, trying not to expose too much leg beneath the towelling robe. The bed was huge and, as Gib had said, very comfortable. Phoebe leant back against the pillows with a sigh. After the accumulated tensions of the day, it was good to relax for a moment.

      ‘I’ve always wanted to sleep in a bed like this,’ said Gib, breaking the silence that was really quite companionable.

      Phoebe, who had been almost asleep, jerked back to attention. It was going to be bad enough getting through the rest of the evening without the prospect of actually getting into bed with Gib to cope with!

      ‘I hope you’re not planning on sleeping in one tonight!’

      ‘Where else am I going to sleep?’ he asked in a mock injured tone. ‘That floor is made of stone!’

      Phoebe looked around the room, which was authentically furnished with an austere wooden chair and absolutely no modern innovations like a sofa or even an armchair where she could reasonably expect Gib to make himself comfortable. There were good reasons why they didn’t live in the Middle Ages any more.

      She sighed inwardly. She supposed the idea of getting married in a castle had seemed very romantic to Ben and Lisa but, when all was said and done, there was nothing wrong with a nice, characterless motel room. Preferably with twin beds.

      ‘You don’t think sharing a bed might be a bit intimate given that we’re not … that we don’t …?’ Phoebe trailed off uncomfortably.

      ‘I won’t forget you’re my boss if that’s what you’re worried about,’ said Gib with one of those lurking smiles of his.

      ‘That’s good coming from someone who’s spent the entire day forgetting that I’m boss!’ she retorted, nettled by his refusal to take the situation seriously.

      ‘Oh, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, isn’t it?’

      ‘We agreed that you would stick to the story and keep it simple. The second rule of engagement, if you remember? I’m not sure how claiming to be president of an international bank was keeping it simple!’

      Gib looked at her and wondered if she had any idea how desirable she looked with her damp, dark hair and her vivid face and her eyes bright and green with irritation.

      ‘I stuck to the important thing, which is that I’m in love with you,’ he pointed out. ‘You can’t get simpler than that. I’ve kept my side of the bargain, haven’t I?’ he challenged her.

      Phoebe dropped her eyes first. She couldn’t deny that he had been very convincing. He was certainly a much better actor than her.

      ‘Yes,’ she acknowledged.

      ‘And I said I was sorry,’ Gib reminded her, his eyes dancing. ‘And I ran you a bath. And I bought you a gin and tonic!’

      ‘On expenses!’

      ‘It’s the thought that counts,’ he said virtuously. ‘I’m trying to do my job as best I can, and if you were a caring employer, you wouldn’t even consider making me sleep on a stone floor! Besides,’ he said, patting the expanse of cover between them, ‘this bed could sleep a family of six easily! And we can always put a pillow down the middle if you don’t think you’ll be able to keep your hands off me otherwise,’ he added in what Phoebe considered was a spirit of sheer provocation.

      ‘I don’t think that will a problem!’ she said in a tart voice.

      ‘And I’ll keep my hands off you,’ he promised, which somehow didn’t make her feel

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