about Tom that was absent-minded.
She smiled. ‘Hello, Tom.’
He didn’t offer his hand but gave her a nod and stood back from the door. ‘Come in.’
She stepped into his apartment and stopped abruptly, instantly struck by a sense of space. It took her a moment to realise this was because he had hardly any furniture and what he did have was spaced a good distance apart. She noticed dents in the carpet and realised that once there’d been a lot more furniture, but the side tables and coffee table had now gone. A glossy black grand piano was the only piece of non-essential furniture.
As if reading her mind, he said in a manner-of-fact voice, ‘Less to bump into and no sharp corners, which are murder on shins.’ He stretched his hands out in front of him. His palms collided with her breasts.
For a split second his fingers brushed across her skimpy Lycra running top. A rush of delicious tingles swooped through her breasts, making them push against her bra and filling the curve of his palm. The rest of her body moaned as a shiver of need rocked and coiled between her legs with a jealous throb.
Tom quickly dropped his hands and stepped backwards, colliding with the now-closed door. Pain and discomfiture streaked across his face before he spoke through tight lips. ‘I apologise.’
She wanted to die on the spot. Not because he’d touched her breasts—that had been pure pleasure—but because she’d caused him embarrassment and hurt in his own home. ‘Please, there’s no need to apologise.’
His eyes deepened to moss green and there wasn’t a trace of humour on his face. ‘So you’re happy with men you barely know touching your breasts, are you?’
Her chin shot up. ‘No, of course not. It’s just that—’
‘What?’ He folded his arms over his chest and glared ever so slightly to her left.
‘Well, it was an accident. I should have given you more space by moving further into the room.’
He’d stepped forward while she was speaking, all predatory intent, and a sizzle of something very strong arced between them, draining her brain and making her sway towards him.
‘I might be blind, Hayley, but, believe me, I’m still very much a man.’
He stood so close that she felt his low words vibrating against her face. She could smell the crisp, fresh scent of his cologne, which mocked her as it was in stark contrast to the dangerous currents of lust and leashed restraint that circled him.
Currents that circled her too, buffeting her and taunting her. She slowly raised her hand and placed it on his chest in the exact place he’d put his hand on hers. When she spoke, her voice came out slightly breathless. ‘Not for one moment have I ever doubted you were a man.’
His nostrils flared as he breathed in deeply and for a moment his face shed its tension and his sightless eyes flared with the same need she knew burned hotly in hers. His hand touched her bare waist and she rose on her toes, ready to brush his lips with hers.
A heartbeat away from her kiss, he tensed under her palm. Without a word he lifted his hand away from her waist, peeled back her fingers from his body and with a firm grip put her hand back by her side.
A chill like an arctic wind cooled her from the inside out.
He took five careful steps away from her. ‘Why are you here, Hayley?’
Because you fascinate me. Because my subconscious led me to you, knowing I would have fought it otherwise.
Neither reply would work so she thought on her feet, making up a reason for a visit that had none. Ignoring the fact she wasn’t dressed for lunch, she said, ‘I had to leave abruptly the other night but today’s my day off. I thought we could try lunch, only this time we can manage to finish an entire meal.’
His fingers flexed. ‘I believe we’d both finished eating our meal before you had to leave.’
She laughed. ‘But I didn’t get dessert.’ Shut up. The moment the words left her lips she wanted to bury her face in her hands. The quip was supposed to have come out light-hearted and breezy, but instead her body had betrayed her by dropping her voice to an alto purr, making her sound like she was trying to seduce him.
He instantly raised a brow, but not even a hint of a smile cracked the tension on his face. ‘It might be your day off, Hayley, but I have to work. I’m giving an afternoon lecture.’
‘Oh. Right.’ It was crazy to feel so disappointed when a moment ago the idea for the invitation hadn’t even existed. Perhaps it was because she’d enjoyed their dinner the other night or perhaps it was some other reason altogether, but she surprised herself by asking, ‘What about tonight, then?’
He shook his head. ‘I have a dinner with Eric Frobisher.’
Against growing regret, she made herself sound very casual. ‘Perhaps another time, then? Consider it an open invitation between two friends.’
The shadows that dogged him darkened even more, placing his cheekbones in sharp relief. ‘I don’t think so.’ He turned away from her, out toward the multimillion-dollar view. The one he couldn’t see.
There was no ambiguity in his words or his stance. This was an unequivocal rejection.
He doesn’t like you.
She stood staring at his back, feeling out of place and completely in the way. How had she got this so wrong? The other night they’d got along in a funny sort of way and a few moments ago an attraction had pulsed so strongly between them that every part of her still vibrated with the remnants of desire.
She couldn’t possibly have imagined it all, could she? And yet right now every fibre of his being screamed at her to leave.
More than anything she wished the floor would open up and swallow her or that she could just wave a wand and vanish. If this was what happened when she gave in to impulsive thoughts then she was done with them. She stomped down hard on the new and unsettling feelings that had led her straight into this demoralising situation. Gulping in a steadying breath, she accepted she had to leave but, damn it, she was going to exit with grace, style and good manners.
Rolling her shoulders back, she said, ‘If you regret your decision, the hospital switchboard can give you my number.’
He didn’t turn around or say another word.
A spark of anger flared at his rudeness and total disregard for her feelings. ‘I won’t impose on you any longer. Goodbye, Tom. I’ll let myself out.’
Tom didn’t hear her feet moving against the sound-absorbing plush carpet, but he heard the quiet click of the door and he knew she’d gone. His trembling hands found the doorhandle to the balcony and he hauled the door open. Once outside he let out an almighty roar—one that was filled with anger, pain and frustration, and he let the winter breeze take it away and dump it out over the harbour.
Breathing heavily, he tried to find some calm. The last person he’d ever expected to ring his doorbell was Hayley. Hayley, who’d felt as soft and as warm as a kitten but whose voice had told another story—the story that promised tangled sheets, sweaty bodies and the bliss of ultimate
