He dismissed the idea in an instant.
She bristled, a bitter smile twisting her lips. How many times had she heard that in her life? Yes, she did look younger than she was, but she wasn’t stupid and she could work as hard as anyone. In fact, she could work harder. She had for years. ‘I’m not as young as I look.’
* * *
Tomas stared down at the bedraggled woman standing in front of him. She might think otherwise but he knew what Jasper’s intentions had been in sending her to him. The old schemer had been insisting for months that what Tomas really needed was some fun times with a beautiful woman. That if he relaxed, it would all come right, but his old friend was completely wrong. And the minute he got rid of her, he’d be phoning Jasper to tell him so. Again.
But it surprised him that Jasper had sent someone so unlike the usual high-maintenance-model bombshell that the old man himself preferred. This girl was too sweet. She looked so damned young in those thin sneakers, wet jeans and the light jacket that didn’t offer sufficient protection from the rain and annoyed the hell out of him. But as he looked closer he saw she was right. She wasn’t quite as young as her appearance first suggested.
When Tomas had opened that door she’d had a shy smile on her glowing face. The rain had been like dew on her radiant skin. Her loosely tied back rich brown hair had been starting to tumble, so wet tendrils curled softly at her temples. Her sweetheart-shaped face was dominated by those large sea-green shining eyes and full rosebud lips. Hell, she’d even had a dimple when she smiled. She’d looked the very picture of innocence and joie de vivre.
Everything he wasn’t. Everything he’d never had.
Right now she looked the picture of indignation. It was no less attractive and he was finding it very hard to wrench his eyes off her.
His thoughts were appallingly sexual in nature. He’d taken one look at her and been hit by the almost irresistible urge to draw her close and kiss her—and made a fool of himself in thinking that was why she’d come here. But her mouth looked full and soft and perfect for kissing and she was just the right size to fit in his arms and press against his hard body. He ached for that even now.
He couldn’t remember when he’d last kissed a woman. Or last wanted to. But then, he couldn’t remember anything.
Angered, he stepped towards her, not stopping even as her eyes widened in wary surprise. He didn’t want to know why she was here making a small puddle on the hall floor as the water streamed from her stupidly light jacket. He didn’t want to be bothered by how frozen her fingers had felt when the back of his hand had brushed against them. He didn’t want to see those still-shining eyes casting their innocent, cautious appeal at him.
He didn’t want to want her.
What he wanted was for her to be gone.
‘How do you know Jasper?’ His voice still sounded rusty. No real surprise given he hadn’t spoken to anyone in two days, not even a quick phone call.
She looked uncomfortable and didn’t answer. His eyes narrowed. What didn’t she want to tell him? Was she Jasper’s latest little affair? His anger flared irrationally. He forced himself to breathe evenly and assess the facts. She wasn’t Jasper’s type. And given the way she’d blushed before at his out of order assumption, she wasn’t the type at all.
‘He helped me out with something a while back,’ she eventually answered evasively. ‘Have you eaten dinner?’
‘That’s not your concern.’ But even as he answered his stomach growled. He wondered if she’d eaten. She looked as if she could do with something hot and filling. Where the hell had she driven from anyway? And why? And he did not want to be wondering about her like this.
She walked the length of the hall, not bothering to hide her curiosity behind a veil of politeness. ‘The house is dark and cold.’
Her tone wasn’t judgmental but he felt argumentative. ‘Maybe I like it that way.’
‘You like to make it as unwelcoming as possible?’ She flashed that impish smile as she turned back to face him. ‘Are you that afraid of people?’
The edgy question was softened not so much by that smile as the shining candour in her eyes but it didn’t defuse his simmering anger.
‘I work hard and I don’t like interruptions,’ he corrected, refusing to be melted by her radiance, refusing to be drawn nearer to her. But the pull was powerful. He glared, infuriated by his primary, base response to her. ‘And I don’t need a baby-faced babysitter. It really is time for you to leave.’
Except he couldn’t help wondering where she would go.
Her smile faded and a confused look entered her eyes, dulling the sea-green brilliance. Stupidly he felt he’d disappointed her in some way. He didn’t like it.
‘I’m not as young as you seem to think,’ she suddenly declared with a lift to her chin, as if she’d made up her mind about something and was determined to see it through. ‘I was married once.’
He huffed out a breath, stunned that her words wounded him in a niggling way. ‘But you’re not now?’ he replied softly. The silence hung with significance.
Her eyelids dropped and she looked down, as if it hurt to hold his gaze. ‘I guess it wasn’t meant to be.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Tomas said stiffly. Not so innocent then; she’d been bruised. The thought of her being hurt grated on his already strained nerves.
He cursed Jasper for sending her to him.
He walked back to the front door, but when he opened it he saw that, while the hail had stopped, the rain had returned. It was almost completely dark now and it would be impossible for her to see three feet in front of her while driving. No way could he let her leave in this weather. Inwardly he cursed more.
‘It isn’t safe for you to leave tonight,’ he said gruffly. ‘You’ll have to stay here.’
He looked at her again and something stirred in the back of his mind. Had he said those words to her before?
He scowled at the déjà vu—the trick of a feeble mind.
He loathed it when it happened. Hated thinking there might be a memory just out of reach and that there was nothing he could do to draw it closer or clearer. The most random, inconsequential things sparked it. He paused, waiting, hoping the fragment would float to the forefront of his mind.
It didn’t. It never did.
Frustration flamed his anger to fury. He stepped towards her, his gaze narrowing. The shine in her eyes had gone. So had her smile.
‘Do I know you?’ He rapped the question, like machine-gun fire, hating that he was compelled to ask. Hated giving his weakness away.
* * *
‘No,’ Zara answered baldly, her throat aching from holding back her disappointment. She’d tried to prompt him just then, but it seemed that what had happened a year ago had been so minor that he’d forgotten it. He’d forgotten her.
She knew it was stupid to feel it, but the reality of her insignificance crushed her. Yet what had
