The Secrets She Must Tell - Lucy King Page 0,31

Finn didn’t seem stressed. So maybe it was her, she’d begun to think. Maybe he was more annoyed by her habit of leaving the milk out than she’d realised. Maybe she was doing something else wrong. It wouldn’t exactly be a first.

Whatever it was, though, Josh was picking up on it now and she’d had enough.

Closing the journal she filled in nightly, and setting both it and the pen she used on the ottoman, Georgie tracked his restless movements for a moment and then pulled her shoulders back and went for it. ‘OK, Finn, what’s wrong?’

‘Why would anything be wrong?’ he said, shooting her a glare, which did rather prove her point.

‘You’re wearing a permanent scowl these days and you’ve taken to prowling around the apartment like a caged animal.’

He stopped mid-pace and with what looked like a Herculean effort cleared his expression and shot her a tight smile. ‘Everything’s fine.’

‘Hmm,’ she said with a sceptical frown. ‘Is it work?’

‘No.’

‘Is it me and Josh?’

‘Why would it be you?’

‘I’m very aware that this has all been a huge upheaval for you. The noise and the mess, I mean. It would be completely understandable if you were finding it hard. Your life has changed immeasurably.’

‘That’s nothing new.’

Her eyebrows lifted. ‘Sorry?’

‘Nothing,’ he said curtly. ‘Everything’s fine.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘Anything you want to talk about?’

‘No.’

In the face of such intransigence Georgie gave up. She could try till she was blue in the face and she wouldn’t get anywhere. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘It’s your call. I rather feel that if you carry on like this sooner or later you’re going to burst a blood vessel, but have it your own way.’

‘Have it my way?’ he said with a bark of humourless laughter. ‘You have no idea.’

‘Then tell me.’

She shifted to make herself more comfortable, just in case he did want to talk, and suddenly something inside him seemed to snap.

‘All right,’ he said, his eyes blazing and his hands curling into fists. ‘You’re right. There is something.’

‘What?’

‘Do you think, for once, you could put on a bloody dressing gown?’

And with that he turned on his heel and strode out, leaving Georgie staring after him, reeling and agape.

What on earth...?

What was wrong with what she was wearing? There was nothing immodest about the baggy T-shirt or the board shorts that she had on, yet what he’d just said and the way he’d glowered at her while saying it implied that not only did he consider it to be the skimpiest outfit he’d ever seen but also that it bothered him.

However, why would it? He wasn’t affected by her. Unless he was, of course, and that tension he was obviously feeling could actually be some kind of sexual frustration because, contrary to what she’d assumed, he was still attracted to her.

But no. He couldn’t be. She’d seen no evidence of it. There’d been no long, heated looks, no off-the-charts chemistry and no sizzling subtext to their conversations. If that was the case, surely there’d have been signs...

But maybe there had been, she thought suddenly, her heart quickening as the clouds in her head parted to reveal possibilities that had hitherto been hidden. What if some of the looks Finn had given her over the last few weeks, some of his expressions that she hadn’t been able to decipher and some of the strange things he’d done, were in fact cases in point?

Take, for example, the way his gaze dropped to her lips pretty much every time they ate together. She’d always vaguely assumed he’d been staring at a stray crumb or perhaps a bit of parsley stuck between her teeth. But what if instead he’d been bombarded with thoughts of kissing her the way she always thought about kissing him whenever she caught herself looking at his mouth? And what about his habit of taking a step back whenever she approached? Could he be doing that because he found her proximity somehow disturbing?

He appeared to have such a tight grip on his control, but maybe the absence of a reaction hid a very different kind of response. What if when she’d barged in on him that night and found him naked save for a towel he hadn’t been as unmoved as he appeared? What if when her knee had brushed against his the day they’d had lunch, he’d been as affected as her? And what if his disappearance every night was less about catching up with work and more about avoiding her?

Or was she seeing signs where there