felt that awareness like a raw wound, deep in her heart. Her first encounter with love had almost destroyed her. That all-consuming passion had controlled her mind, body and soul, and she never wanted to experience it again.
Yet she couldn’t look away, couldn’t move, was unable to do anything but stare at him. The years had enhanced his appeal, not dimmed it, but there was a hardness around his eyes that she didn’t remember. She had waited so long for this meeting, for a chance to explain about the past. But the words wouldn’t come and she felt as tongue-tied as the first time she’d met him.
COLTER GLANCED IMPATIENTLY at his watch. How long could it possibly take to wrap three packages? God, he hated shopping. That was part of being a parent, though. He did a lot of things he didn’t really enjoy. Like having a multitude of little girls over for a slumber party and listening to them giggle all night, not to mention listening to music that could easily break the sound barrier. But when his daughter put her arms around his neck and said, “You’re the best daddy in the whole world,” it was all worth it. He sighed, checking his watch again.
His impatience vanished as an eerie feeling came over him. He could actually feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up, as if his body sensed danger. Raising his head, he received a jolt that he would remember for a long time. He felt winded and gasped, struggling for breath. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be her. But he knew it was as he looked into the brown eyes of a woman he’d hoped never to see again.
They stood there silently, staring at each other, and against every conscious objection on his part, the years rolled back. He remembered that time in Las Vegas, the love they’d shared, the days and nights of sensual magic only their bodies could create. The happiness and pleasure of those weeks flashed through him, only to be overshadowed by the pain left in its aftermath.
Colter’s first instinct was to turn his back on her and walk away. He didn’t want to acknowledge her presence, but a force deep inside moved him forward until he was standing in front of her.
From a distance he could tell she’d changed, but he wasn’t prepared for the impact of seeing her face-to-face. The young girl he remembered had matured into a beautiful woman. His eyes made a quick, thorough assessment of her, taking in the ash-blond hair around her oval face, the dark eyes that shimmered like brown satin, the delicately carved facial bones and the soft curve of her mouth. His appraisal missed nothing, not the beige linen dress and matching jacket, nor the way she nervously pushed her hair behind her ear. A provocative gesture he remembered well.
She was beautiful; he’d thought that years ago, too. Bitterness quickly filled his mind, reminding him what a fool he’d been—a stupid, infatuated fool. Her beauty was only a facade. She was not beautiful on the inside.
“Marisa Preston?” Her name erupted from his lips and came out as a question, and he couldn’t imagine why, because he definitely knew who she was.
“YES,” SHE ANSWERED with a quaver in her voice, feeling as if her knees were going to buckle. “It’s been a long time. Do you live in Dallas now?”
His eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”
She shrugged, not knowing how to answer. She’d only been trying to make the best of an awkward situation.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
The bluntness of the question took her by surprise, but she answered without a pause. “I work here.”
He frowned. “Work? Here?” He made no attempt to hide the incredulity in his voice as his eyes slid over her again.
“In the executive office,” she amended.
“The executive office?” The frown deepened. “I assumed you’d be playing in concert halls all over the world by now. Isn’t that what your mother planned for you?”
“You know I never wanted to do that,” she answered almost inaudibly, wondering if that was what he’d believed—that she’d left him to pursue her career as a concert pianist.
“I never knew what you wanted,” he said in a harsh tone. “I never knew you at all.”
Her stomach tightened. She hadn’t expected him to be so cold, so angry. After all these years, she’d expected idle curiosity about why she’d left him, but he didn’t seem too concerned with her reasons for leaving. Her head began to throb and she lightly touched her temple to ease the ache.
His eyes caught the small gesture. “What’s the matter? Do thoughts of the past upset you?”
If he only knew. Feelings of guilt mounted inside her. “Some thoughts,” she acknowledged, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “But that was a long time ago, and I was very young.” The statement sounded inane even to her own ears, so she tried again. “I made a lot of bad choices that I’m not proud of, but I’ve managed to put them behind me.”
“How convenient for you,” he muttered, urging himself to walk away. He couldn’t do it, though. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he just leave? It had to be the shock of seeing her, of knowing what she’d done to his life. She’d ruined him for other women. After her, he couldn’t trust a woman again. He’d tried, but he couldn’t, and he couldn’t fully love again, either—the way a man should love a woman. Not even for his daughter had he been able to do that. All because of this woman.
She called it a bad choice, said she’d been young. Was he supposed to accept that and now have a pleasant conversation with her? Her gall was unbelievable! He mentally shook himself, fighting to keep his emotions under control.
MARISA HAD IMAGINED this meeting a thousand times, but she was unprepared for this hostile stranger, especially since he’d married Shannon four months after Marisa had left him. Her mother was glad to tell her the details. So why would he still be so angry with a young girl who’d broken her promise of marriage?
She blinked nervously under his hard stare, unable to stop herself from asking, “Don’t you think you’re overreacting? After all, it was a long time ago.”
“Overreacting!” he repeated, his voice sharp as a whiplash. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Doesn’t it ever bother you?”
How dare he ask her that? He was a married man. He had no right to judge her without knowing the truth. The truth. She suddenly knew she had to tell him that truth, the truth that had tortured her for years.
“Yes, it bothered me for a while,” she began, lifting her chin, meeting his icy gaze as she struggled for the right words. “But as I said, I was young and—”
“Oh, please,” he cut in. “Spare me your pretty speech. Why don’t you just admit that you were a spoiled rich girl who couldn’t handle responsibility or commitment, so you ran home to mother?”
“It wasn’t like that,” she denied, hating the picture he held of her in his mind.
“It was just like that. Tulley warned me. Shannon warned me, but—”
“Please,” she begged, her head beginning to ache in earnest. “You don’t understand.”
“No. I’ll never understand.”
“If you’d just listen, I can explain.”
“It
