‘I don’t know. I hope not.’

‘And I hope you know me better than that.’

‘Now I’ve made you angry.’ Suddenly she wished she hadn’t ruined the mood by asking the question. ‘I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have—’ She broke off and then frowned, knowing that her question was a valid one. ‘You have to understand that I thought I knew Clive, and it turned out I didn’t.’

‘Jenna, I’m not angry. You don’t have to talk about this.’

‘Yes, I do. You thought it was an unjust question, but to me it wasn’t unjust and I need you to understand that.’ Her voice was firm. ‘I lived with a man for sixteen years and I thought I knew him. I married him and had his child, I slept in his bed—we made a life together. And it turned out he had a whole other life going on that didn’t involve me. He had three affairs over the course of our marriage, one of them with a friend of mine. I didn’t find out until the third.’

Ryan pulled her back down into the circle of his arms. ‘You have a right to ask me anything you want to ask me. And I’m not married. Not any more.’

‘Oh.’ Digesting that, she relaxed against him, trailing her fingers over his chest, lingering on dark hair and hard muscle. ‘So it went wrong for you, too?’

‘Yes.’

She waited for him to say something more but he didn’t, and she lay for a moment, listening to his heartbeat, her fingers on his chest.

Obviously that was why he’d come here, she thought to herself. Like her, he’d found comfort in doing something, found a channel for his anger. He’d built something new.

Ryan sighed. ‘I’m sure there are questions you want to ask me.’

But he didn’t want to answer them; she knew that.

‘Yes, I have a question.’ She shifted on top of him, feeling his instant response. ‘How comfortable is that bed of yours?’

* * *

‘Fruit, rolls, coffee—’ Ryan started loading a tray. ‘How hungry are you?’

‘Not very. You put me off my food, remember?’ Having pulled on her linen skirt and tee shirt, Jenna sat on a stool watching him.

‘You just used up about ten thousand calories. You need to eat.’ Ryan warmed rolls in the oven, sliced melon and made a pot of coffee. ‘This should be lunch rather than breakfast, but never mind.’

‘Lunch? But we—’ Her gaze slid to the clock on the wall and her eyes widened. ‘Two o’clock?’

‘Like I said—ten thousand calories.’ And ten thousand volts to his system. He couldn’t believe he wanted her again so quickly, but he could happily have taken her straight back to bed.