he agreed, his tone sombre in a way that made her feel he was talking of so much more than a physical distance.
‘So are you on holiday—or—?’
The rough shake of his head, sending that wild wet hair flying, had her cutting off the question sharply.
‘It seems that really we’re two of a kind,’ he said slowly.
There was a touch of dark amusement in his words, but there was also something more than that. Something that swirled, harsh and disturbing, at the bottom of his voice.
‘How so?’ Her voice caught sharply on the words.
That deep green gaze swept over her in cool assessment then swung back to his motorbike, eyes narrowed against the rain.
‘We both just took off—turned our backs, left everything behind. Two of a kind.’
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