she said, her chin up and her eyes glinting in the soft, low light of the hall. ‘You show up in the early hours of New Year’s Day, make a big deal about wanting to talk and then suddenly you don’t want to talk? You’re making me worried and I won’t let you leave when you’re in this sort of state. So come on, what gives?’
Now, clearly, was the time to march forwards, physically lift her aside and make his escape, thought Kit with the one brain cell that was still functioning rationally.
But that would mean being near her, laying his hands on her, he reasoned with the part of his brain that was addled with lust, and once that happened he wouldn’t be lifting her out of the way, but pulling her close, backing her up against the door and divesting her of her clothing.
Shoving his hands through his hair, he cursed whatever madness had made him think that seeking Lily out had been a good idea.
And then, beneath his breath, he cursed her because why the hell was she making such a big deal about this? Why wasn’t she just letting him leave? Why did she care what was going on inside his head?
Come to think of it, why was he making such a big deal about this? Why was he getting so wound up by what was happening to him?
He ought to be glad his problem seemed to be solved, that he was ‘cured’. He ought to be thanking her and heading to the nearest bar in search of someone with whom he could make up for lost time. Or calling Carla, perhaps.
And so what if he was still attracted to Lily? There was nothing surprising about that. The chemistry that had existed between the two of them had always been instant, fiery and intense. Even towards the end of their relationship when they’d been too battered by what had happened between them to want to act on it, it had still been there, simmering away in the background.
But what if what he was feeling towards Lily now was more than mere sexual chemistry? Something deeper?
Kit froze as the idea of this stormed into his mind and opened up a whole labyrinth of other possible truths.
What if the problem he’d had sleeping with other women in the last five years didn’t have anything to do with guilt or regret or self-recrimination? What if it was down to the fact that he was still hung up on his ex-wife?
He’d assumed he’d got over Lily years ago. But from the moment they’d met she’d got under his skin and been in his blood, like some kind of fever, the sort that was quick, fierce and lethal. And incurable. So maybe she was still there. In his blood. Under his skin. Tucked away in some long-forgotten corner of his heart.
Maybe that was why he’d kept vague tabs on her. Maybe that was why the idea of her having a boyfriend bothered him so much. Why he’d wanted to remind her of the good times they’d had together and had deliberately if obliquely brought up that afternoon in the woods.
Maybe she still felt something too, he thought, his heart hammering while his mind churned. Hadn’t she flinched when she’d let him in? Hadn’t her eyes darkened and her cheeks reddened when he’d alluded to the al fresco sex?
Despite the cool-as-a-cucumber air she was exuding now, despite the defiant stance, he could hear a slight shallowness to her breathing and he could just about make out a familiar faint flush to the skin of her upper chest. There was also a flicker of heat in her eyes that he didn’t think was solely down to her wish to know why he was here.
So maybe, as chemistry didn’t seem to have a time limit any more than it had anything to do with liking and trust, she was still as attracted to him as he was to her. Maybe it was something more for her too, despite the existence of a boyfriend.
Maybe he ought to think about finding out.
With his common sense spinning off into the distance and his head swimming with need, Kit abandoned what little remained of his self-control and took two steps towards her.
He stopped half a foot in front of her, so close he could smell her scent, could feel her heat, could feel himself helplessly begin to respond to the magnetism that had always pulled at them.
‘Is whoever he is really your boyfriend?’ he asked, looking down into her eyes, his mouth dry and his body wound so tightly it was in danger of shattering.
Lily blinked, clearly taken aback. ‘Nick?’ she said, her breath catching and a pulse hammering at the base of her neck.
‘Yes.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Is that what this is about, Kit? Do you suddenly have a problem with me moving on or something?’
‘Possibly,’ he muttered because, as disconcerting and unexpected as it might be, he suspected he did.
And then her eyes narrowed and filled with indignation, and she pulled her shoulders back and glared up at him. ‘Well, that’s just tough because you don’t get to have a say in what I do any more. You don’t get to have an opinion. And you certainly don’t get to comment on my boyfriends.’
‘I know that,’ he said roughly, trying but failing to ignore the implication that there’d been a few.
‘Anyway, would it be so hard to believe if he was?’
‘Not at all.’
‘Good.’
‘Disappointing as hell though.’
She arched an eyebrow and tilted her head in challenge. ‘Oh, really? Why?’
The provocative stance, the energy emanating from her and the flurry of memories that were now shooting round his head killed off the last remnant of his self-control, and Kit felt himself begin to unravel.
‘Because even though I know it would be mad,’ he said, his voice hoarse with the effort of restraining himself, ‘even though I know we haven’t seen each other for five years and have enough baggage to sink a liner, I’m this close—’ he held his thumb and forefinger a centimetre apart ‘—to dragging you into my arms and hauling you off to bed. The only thing that’s stopping me is this boyfriend of yours and even he’s now beginning not to bother me. So if you have any sense of self-preservation whatsoever, if you don’t feel the same way, then I suggest you step aside and let me leave. Now.’
* * *
As the words sank into her head Lily’s mind reeled and her heart lurched. Kit wanted to take her to bed? Could she really have heard that right? Surely she must have got it wrong. Surely his proximity was having such a disturbing effect on her mind and body that she’d misheard or something because the very idea of it didn’t make any sense at all.
Kit hadn’t given any indication of wanting her earlier. Quite the opposite, in fact. He’d been cool and utterly indifferent to her. Which was entirely to be expected. They hadn’t seen each other in five years and didn’t even like each other particularly.
But no, she thought, blinking up at him in astonishment. It seemed to be that she hadn’t misheard and he really had just told her that he wanted to sleep with her. She could see it in his dark eyes, blazing down at her with barely suppressed desire, and she could feel it in his body, which was radiating heat and vibrating with tension.
And even though it could well be nothing more than a simple case of male jealousy or a misguided attempt
