his eyebrows. “That’s not very smart for a political science graduate. How do you know what’s going on in the world?”
She bit down on her bottom lip. It probably did sound strange to a man of the world like Jack, but in the past she had read such rubbish about herself, often demeaning and hurtful and rarely true, that she had decided the best way to cope was to avoid it.
“I have a press secretary who tells me what he thinks I should know,” she said crisply.
“He’s not doing his job very well. He should have told you about me.”
“No. You should have told me, Jack. Just as I should have explained who I was, if I’d any sense,” she acknowledged. The color rose in her cheeks as the realization of the last five days hit her. “You should have told me on that first day on the island. You can’t deny you gave me the impression that you were a poor fisherman.”
“My finances weren’t really any of your business.”
She leapt to her feet and stood over him where he sat on the sofa visibly more relaxed now. She clenched her fists, afraid she might slap his handsome face.
“If it was no business of mine, why did you bring up the fact of being a ‘poor fisherman’ at every opportunity? How could you attack me this afternoon saying I was turned on by making love to a common man when all the time you were laughing as you counted up your billions of dollars in the bank?”
She was unable to go on as tears welled in her eyes. She hadn’t meant to expose her hurt to him—her raw and bleeding wounds. She had wanted to give the impression she couldn’t care less about his damning remarks.
Jack stood, a look of concern and compassion on his face. He touched her arm but she furiously shook his hand away and turned her back on him. She folded her arms across her chest in a defiant gesture as she blinked away the tears.
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right, Lara. I shouldn’t have treated you that way and I apologize. It was only that you seemed so high and mighty looking down your nose at the common folk. I was very poor when I started and had to work my way up for years through sheer grit and determination. I didn’t have everything handed to me on a silver platter.”
Lara whirled around. “Like me, you mean. Do you think I asked to be born into this…this prison? Do you think I don’t wish every day that I could live like a normal person and not be bound by protocols and royal duties and tracked by detectives and companions every moment from when I wake in the morning until I go to sleep at night?”
She put up a hand to try and hide her trembling mouth as she continued, “The only freedom I ever had was when I was allowed to share an apartment with my friends, Jade and Kate. And guess what? My security people took over the whole floor and still tracked my every move.” To her horror, a huge sob escaped her as she tried to control the emotions overtaking her.
“Sweetheart, don’t cry.” Jack’s arms were around her and she was drawn into him. His hand stroked her hair and his gentleness was the last straw. She burrowed her face into his chest and wept.
She wasn’t quite sure what made her give in to her feelings. She knew he smelled so good and his arms around her made her feel protected and very feminine. As if she needed protection. She had just explained she was surrounded with it everywhere she went. But somehow, here in his arms, his cheek resting against her hair, it was different and she liked it.
“Here.” He pushed a handkerchief into her hand. She stepped back and wiped her eyes. How long had he held her? Thirty seconds? Thirty minutes?
“I’m so sorry. I’m over tired,” she said, trying to find excuses for her tears. She wondered if her eyes looked puffy and whether her nose was red.
“It’s okay. We’re both tired and we both have short fuses.” He drew her again into the circle of his arms. “I didn’t realize how unhappy you were,” he said softly.
She studied his mouth and the little cleft in his chin. She wanted to touch that cleft and run her caressing fingers along his strong jaw and over those magnificent cheekbones.
“Lara, if you