hoping that if she said the words she would magically be successful.
But she was a realist. She’d quit believing in magic when she was six and her mother had chosen to spend Christmas with her boyfriend in a hotel room, and her father had taken his new wife on a cruise rather than spend the day with Colleen. She’d been left alone for the day and most of the night, huddled on the couch, watching Christmas movies, tears streaming down her cheeks. She’d been forever changed on that cold, gray day.
Her innocent love and faith in her parents, along with her little girl’s belief in magic, had died a quick, inevitable death, only to die all over again when they abandoned her to the foster-care system when she was nine. One thought had cemented itself in her brain then, and had a profound influence on the rest of her life. There was something missing inside her, some flaw that kept her from being able to love and nurture a relationship, even with the two people who were supposed to love her no matter what—her mom and dad.
No, there was no use hoping for a magical solution. She was going to have to deal with Aiden—which meant getting rid of him. He was going to step into her office and she would be sucked back into his appeal. Oh, how she remembered his heart-stopping green eyes, keen sense of humor and wide, generous smile.
And how cherished she’d felt when she was wrapped in his arms.
She jerked her thoughts away from useless memories. Feeling warm, she pulled off her jacket and flung it on a pile of overfilled file folders in the corner, then gave in to her wobbly knees and sat down behind her paper-strewn desk.
Aware that he would arrive any second, she pressed a shaking hand to her chest to calm her jumpy heart, took a deep, cleansing breath and closed her eyes for a moment, summoning up her trustworthy control. She could get through this if she remained calm, cool and unaffected.
She sat up straight a mere second before Aiden stepped into her cube, instantly filling the drab, messy little space with his large, vibrant self. She forced herself to look directly at him instead of fooling with the voluminous stacks of papers on her desk as she was inclined to do.
He simply stood in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. His shadowed eyes reflected a shrewd perceptiveness that sent a weird, hot, shivery chill down her spine.
Of course, he looked too darn good. He always had. It wasn’t surprising that he was still absolutely gorgeous, the epitome, in fact, of her concept of the ideal male. Physically, at least. There was no such thing as an emotionally ideal male for someone like her.
His tall, once-rangy body had filled out very, very nicely since the last time she’d seen him. His shoulders seemed broader, his arms thicker. An impossibly wide chest, perfectly displayed by the short-sleeved, forest-green knit shirt he wore, looked firmer and more muscled, and tapered down into a taut waist and legs that were long and solid-looking beneath his khaki trousers.
His mahogany-shaded hair was shorter than she remembered, and he’d gelled the longer hair on top into a funky, spiky texture that somehow complemented his chiseled, masculine features and lightly tanned face.
But it was his sea-green eyes that, true to her memories, got to her the most. He looked at her, pinning her in place, and she was unable to move a muscle or form a coherent thought. Yes, those incredible eyes had always been able to see into her soul.
Why can’t you love me, Colly?
His old question echoed in her head, reminding her of the wall he’d tried to tear down inside her, the love he’d seemed determined to wring from her barren heart.
The love she didn’t know how to return.
Her shaky control almost splintered, but she gathered her composure around her like an old lady’s tattered shawl, determined to act normal and calm around him even if she dropped dead from the effort, which at the moment seemed highly likely. She folded her damp hands on the top of her desk, noticing how hollow his cheeks seemed.
He spoke first. “So I guess you’re not too happy to see me,” he said, his voice harsh and low.
She frowned, surprised by his cold tone. Mercy, was he still mad about their breakup? “Are you still upset about…what happened?”
He pressed his mouth into a harsh line. “Of course not.”
She wasn’t going to argue with him, but his tone and expression suggested he wasn’t being truthful. Even so, it wouldn’t hurt to apologize. She’d always felt guilty for breaking up with him, even though it was the only option open to her. “Good. But for the record, I’m sorry for what I did…walking out on you.”
He snorted. “Yeah, right.”
She pulled in her chin. “You don’t think I’m sorry?” Figured. They had never been on the same wavelength emotionally.
“What I think about what happened eight years ago doesn’t matter.” He pierced her with those intense, emerald eyes. “You just look damn unhappy to see me.”
He always was too perceptive. “Why would you say that?” she asked, cursing the hitch in her voice.
“Oh, come on.” He stepped closer. “You look like you have a stick up your…uh, well, you just look pretty unhappy.”
“I’m not particularly happy or unhappy to see you,” she said, lying. At this moment, she would have been happier to see Jack the Ripper, who would spare her and just kill her. But Aiden, well, Aiden had the ability to make her bleed inside, just as her parents had, and that terrified her.
He snorted under his breath and rolled his eyes. “Still the same old Colleen.”
She bristled, but then reminded herself whom she was dealing with here. This was Aiden, for goodness’ sake. He’d always had the amazing, frightening ability to turn her inside out. She would go to her grave before she’d let that happen again.
A slow, hot burn started in her chest. Thankfully, anger was the one emotion she could handle right now. Embracing her anger, she deliberately stood, placing her hands on her desk. She stared him down. “How dare you sashay in here after eight years and take up where you left off, badgering me. You don’t have a clue about me.”
He didn’t flinch from her caustic tone. Instead, he looked at her for a long, significant moment, and then leaned in so that only inches separated their faces. His pine-clean scent hit her like a Mack truck and his nearness sent hot tingles of awareness shooting through her body. And darn if her hair didn’t almost catch fire.
He drilled her with sharp, assessing eyes. “I know you well enough to tell when you’re royally pissed off. You never were very good at hiding that, were you?”
Her cheeks warmed even more and she jerked away, needing to breathe in air that wasn’t tainted by the big man in front of her. She took a deep, shaky breath and fought the urge to check her hair.
Mercy, she didn’t want to deal with Aiden and his unwanted emotional analysis, she never had. The day he’d asked her to marry him and she’d had to walk away, her flaw oozing like acid inside her, she’d realized that she was so emotionally incomplete she’d never have a normal life with a family of her own and a man who loved her.
Over the years, she’d learned to deal with that harsh reality, but here Aiden was, picking her apart, dredging up memories that were best forgotten, pain that she didn’t want to go through
