it would feel if he kissed it. His gaze wandered to that wild, tumbling hair; she had tried to tame it by tying it back but it suited her better free—he was tempted to catch hold of it, pull off the ribbon and let the hair fall around her face, before running his fingers through it, burying his face in the curling strands.
Keira stared back at him angrily—how dared he look her over like that?
‘Well?’ she demanded, her chin lifted in a defiant movement.
‘Feeling better?’ he asked casually.
She nodded without a smile, her expression offhand, which, if he had known her better, he would have known meant that she was ill at ease and desperately trying to hide it.
‘I’m fine. You said you had something to say. Could you be quick? I’m very busy.’
His lids half lowered at that, a sardonic gleam in his eyes as he surveyed her.
‘Going out?’
She hesitated. ‘I might.’
‘Dressed like that?’ His glance ran over her again with open amusement, but underneath that he was reacting very differently. He kept telling himself she was too skinny for his taste, but the truth was he found those small, high breasts sexy, even though the baggy sweater half hid her body—the body he had been remembering all day, the body he had carried in his arms and found as light as a child’s yet with considerable sensual impact.
‘I shall change if I go out,’ she coldly told him. ‘You still haven’t told me what you wanted to say.’
He shrugged. ‘I just wanted to check you were OK.’
‘I’m fine, thank you, as I just told you.’ Her tone was curt, rejecting his interest.
He was undeterred; Gerard Findlay had spent his entire working life persisting in the face of angry resistance to his questioning. ‘What did the doctor say?’
She gave him a furious look at that, green eyes sparking fire. ‘Why on earth should I tell you that? I know you’re a reporter but that doesn’t give you the right to go around asking people about their private lives! If I told you I might find the story in a gossip column tomorrow!’
‘I’m a foreign correspondent on TV, not a gossip columnist with a tabloid!’ he retorted. ‘And I’ve no intention of selling your story to either the newspapers or TV. I saw your light on as I was parking my car, so I thought I’d check that you were OK. I wish I hadn’t bothered now.’
He turned on his heel and went out, banging the door behind him with a violence that made her nerves shiver. She knew she had been rude and hostile and he had only been showing neighbourly concern, she knew she ought to go after him to apologise but she couldn’t. She had to keep him at arm’s length. She had known that from the minute she first saw him.
She remembered that afternoon with crystalclarity. It had been a cool November Saturday, the last bronze leaves blowing off the trees and rustling in the gutters, the sky almost entirely colourless.
Because it was the weekend neither she nor Sara had been working. Normally they did their housework and shopping on a Saturday, and they had just finished tidying the cottage when the removal van had arrived next door.
‘This must be our new neighbour,’ Sara had said, leaning out of the window to watch the arrival. The cottage next door had been empty for several weeks and they had known that a new tenant would shortly be taking over.
The van had parked, the removal men had climbed down and undone the tailboard, at which point Gerard had arrived, roaring up at speed in his little red sports car.
‘Nice car!’ Sara commented approvingly, then whistled as the driver got out to unlock the front door of the cottage so that the men could carry his furniture inside.
‘Look at those long legs; I do love men with long, long legs.’
‘You love men, full stop,’ Keira told her drily.
‘True.’ Sara curled up on the window-seat, like a curious little cat, to watch everything that was going on next door. ‘I’m sure I know him. I’ve seen him before somewhere, I just can’t remember where.’
Keira went off to make coffee for them both. When she got back Sara told her excitedly, ‘I’ve got it! He’s on the news, on TV…not an announcer, a reporter—oh, you know, he was on the other night doing a story from Jordan. He must have just flown home. I’m trying to remember his name…Jeremy? Geoffrey?’
‘Gerard,’ said Keira who had recognised him at once. ‘Gerard Findlay.’
‘That’s it! I knew I was close.’ Sara stared in fascination as he moved about below in the mews, that lean, powerful body, in jeans and a leather jacket, as graceful as a wild animal’s, a big cat, a leopard or a jaguar. There was that aura of danger about him, the threat of the predator.
‘He is simply gorgeous, isn’t he?’ Sara sighed. ‘If I wasn’t madly in love with Rashid I would flip over him.’
Keira didn’t say anything. She was too busy feeling sick. Her skin was prickling, her stomach clenching; even the hairs on her head had seemed to react to the man moving about between the cottage next door and the street.
She had always liked him on TV, but in real life he was far sexier. The small screen diminished him. When you saw him crouching down behind ruined houses, or talking against a background of such devastation that it overwhelmed the man doing the commentary, you didn’t realise how tall he was, how powerfully built. He was more intensely coloured too, his hair a midnight-black, with the sheen of a raven’s wing, his skin tanned to a smooth gold, his eyes a dark, glittering grey. Staring at him that first morning, she felt an attraction so strong she was terrified.
She had been in love only once before; she never wanted to feel like that again. She had fallen too hard, become desperate with love; he had been frightened off. She had known it was happening but been unable to stop the need welling up inside her, or even hide it. All her life she had been looking for love, and she’d thought she had finally found it, but she had picked the wrong man to love that much. He had not been an all-or-nothing type. He’d found her need alarming. He’d stopped asking her out and started dating someone else; Keira had gone through a hell of pain and humiliation, because everyone knew, all their friends, and she had been so distressed that she hadn’t done a very good job of hiding how she felt.
Two years had gone by since it happened, but it still had the power to sting her when she remembered it.
If she ever fell in love again she was going to do so slowly, and let the man fall in love first, make sure she was safe before she let herself care.
‘Let’s go round and invite him in for a cup of tea,’ Sara said.
Keira shook her head and said, ‘You would have to invite all those removal men too, and I’m not in the mood to talk to a lot of strangers.’
‘You’re crazy,’ Sara said, but in the end she took a tray of tea and hastily made sandwiches next door, and came back after being there for ages, laughing and pink, well pleased with herself. She had found out all she could about Gerard, no doubt asked endless questions.
‘He’s not married, not even divorced; he just
