Her Sweet Surrender: The First Crush Is the Deepest. Nina Harrington

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       EIGHT

      ‘Shame on me? Shame. On me?’

      Amber felt the heat burn at the back of her neck which had nothing to do with the Indian food and she crashed her hand down onto the table hard enough to make both Sam and the plates jump, and leant forwards towards him.

      ‘How dare you? How dare you tell me that I should be ashamed of the fact that my family love me and care what happens to me? No, I don’t always agree with what they tell me, but at least they make an effort to be part of my life. But you know all about that, don’t you? How are you getting on with your dad these days? And remind me of the last time you saw your mum?’

      The words emerged in harsh outbursts which seemed to echo around her patio and reflect back from the stone-faced man sitting opposite. And she instantly regretted them.

      It shocked her that Sam was capable of making her so spiteful and hard. She was one of the few people who knew how hard it had been for him when his mother abandoned her husband and son. But that didn’t mean that she had to throw his pain back in his face.

      She was better than that. Or at least she was trying to be.

      ‘In fact I don’t know why I am even listening to you in the first place.’ She blinked and tossed her head back and calmly sipped her water. ‘You are hardly qualified to take the moral high ground. I certainly don’t need a lecture on making decisions from you, Sam. Understood?’

      ‘Perfectly.’ Sam nodded, then leant forward and rested his elbows on the table while his gaze locked onto her face. ‘Is your little tantrum over now, Miss DuBois? Because I would really like to get this so called interview over and done with as soon as possible. I have a real assignment waiting for me back at the paper, so can we move on, please?’

      ‘Absolutely,’ Amber replied, trying to calm her heart rate and appear to be more or less in control again. ‘But it does make me wonder. What are you really doing back here in London? Because whatever it is must be very important to persuade you to go through with this little game of charades.’

      * * *

      Sam tried to savour more of the delicious food as slowly as he could while his brain worked at lightning speed, trying to form an answer, but his appetite was gone and he pushed his meal away.

      Amber had fired her arrow and hit her target right in the centre.

      Strange how this girl was one of the few people alive who knew just what his emotional hot buttons were and was not afraid to press them down hard when she needed to.

      Just as he had pressed hers.

      That was the problem with working with people who understood you.

      Touché Amber.

      If this was a game, then it was one point to each of them.

      Sam sat back in his chair and watched Amber as she turned away from him and looked out over the city, all joy in her food and apartment forgotten.

      The warm sunlight played on her pale skin and delicate features. Up close and personal, she was even lovelier than the girl on the magazine cover. Her chest rose and fell and he could sense the emotional strain these last few minutes had cost her.

      Strain he was responsible for.

      Shame on him.

      Amber DuBois was gunpowder and those few minutes they had just shared in the dressing room had proved just how explosive getting within touching distance could be.

      Any ideas he might have had about staying distant and professional had just gone out of the window the instant his fingers touched her skin.

      He might be over his teenage crush but this woman he was looking at now had the power to get under his skin and bother him.