by Lucy King
Why she was glad, though, was something she wasn’t particularly keen to dwell on.
‘You’ve been entertaining,’ Kit said in a tone that suggested he didn’t like it, which was tough because he’d given up the right to have an opinion about anything she did the minute he’d chosen to have a one-night stand with someone from the PR department of the hotel where he’d worked while their marriage lay in tatters.
Resisting the temptation to think about that, Lily allowed herself a slow, deliberately wistful smile. ‘Yes,’ she murmured softly, blissfully, as if dinner had turned into something much, much more.
Kit’s jaw tightened gratifyingly. ‘The man with the scarf?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Boyfriend?’
Nope. Sadly. ‘That,’ she said, ‘is none of your business.’
Kit tutted. ‘Goodness, aren’t we defensive?’
‘I prefer “private”,’ she said, deepening her smile as she vaguely wondered what was stopping her from just telling him the truth about Nick.
‘So I recall,’ he said, and in that instant an image flashed into her head of the two of them in his car, hidden from view, she’d thought, by trees.
They’d been driving back from a party in Kit’s convertible, and it had been end-of-the-summer hot. He’d said something that she hadn’t caught, and as she’d turned to ask him what he’d said she’d been hit by a bolt of desire so strong that it had wiped her head clean of thought. He’d looked so mouth-wateringly gorgeous, tanned and laughing, with the wind ruffling his hair, so confident and in control, that, totally riddled with lust, she’d ordered him to pull over.
Once he had, in a conveniently secluded spot, she’d practically leapt on him. Kit hadn’t complained, and with their mouths meeting and their hands grappling at relevant bits of clothing they’d been too desperate to notice the group of walkers heading along the path in their direction, and then too absorbed in each other to see them hurry straight past.
It was only when Lily lifted her head from the nook where his neck met his shoulder, eased herself off him and turned to face forwards, that she saw the backs of a few stragglers and realised what had just happened. After that mortifying experience, Lily had insisted on sex indoors.
Why Kit had had to bring it up now she had no idea, but she really wished he hadn’t because she could so do without the memory of it. Or the accompanying rush of heat that was sweeping through her.
She could definitely do without the faint knowing amusement with which he was looking at her that suggested he knew exactly what was going through her head.
Hmm. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing for him to believe she had a boyfriend. If her immunity to him wasn’t quite as strong as she’d always thought and if he was even thinking of continuing with this line of conversation, then a boyfriend seemed like an excellent deterrent/defence.
Lily shrugged away the images. ‘Well, it’s early days,’ she said with a coolness that came from who knew where. ‘With Nick and me, I mean. But yes, things are looking good.’
‘Great,’ he said, sounding as if he thought it anything but.
Snapping his gaze from hers, he glanced down at the glasses that were on the coffee table and frowned. ‘Are those ours?’
The crystal champagne flutes had once upon a time indeed been theirs, although now, technically, they were hers. They’d been a wedding present, and until tonight had spent the last five years encased in bubble wrap and stashed in her attic.
Lily wasn’t entirely sure why she’d brought them down and unwrapped them this evening, but she had, and that had been a mistake because every time she’d lifted hers to her mouth she’d been hit by a string of bittersweet memories of drinking champagne with Kit.
‘I have no idea,’ she said with a dismissive shrug because there was no way she was going to confess to any of that.
‘Looks like they are.’
‘Does it matter?’
‘It does if you’re drinking out of them with another man. I think I might be offended.’
She fought the urge to bristle and channelled her inner calm instead. ‘Well, you could have had them, so you should have thought about that when you displayed so little interest in how our things were divided up.’
He nodded and rubbed a hand along his jaw before shooting her a rueful smile. ‘I probably should have. Although from what I remember I was too devastated by the realisation that we were over to be worrying about who got what.’
Lily stared at him in astonishment, all pretence of cool detachment gone. ‘You were devastated?’
‘Of course I was.’ He said it as if she should have been able to tell, but by that point he’d been so cold, so distant, so damn unreadable that she hadn’t been able to work out what he’d been thinking. ‘Weren’t you?’
‘Oh, well, yes, I was in bits.’ Which she’d clearly done a pretty good job of hiding too, if he’d had to ask. ‘Although I do remember, above all, an overwhelming sense of relief.’
He nodded. ‘Yes, there was that too.’
Silence fell then, and all she could hear as they continued to look at each other was the ticking of the antique mahogany clock on the mantelpiece. And all she could suddenly—and irrationally—think was, had he really been as devastated as she’d been? Had they been too quick to divorce? Should they have tried harder? Should they have given it another shot?
The clock struck a quarter to one and she came to with a jolt.
No. They could have given their marriage a million different shots but it wouldn’t have made any difference because before divorce had ever been mentioned, before Kit’s one-night stand even, they’d totally lost the ability to communicate and their relationship had gone way beyond the point of no return.
With her throat beginning to ache with regret Lily quickly reined in her thoughts and pulled herself together. She swallowed hard and perched her bottom on the ledge of the built-in cupboard to the left of the fireplace.
Maybe they’d be better off focusing on the present and why Kit was here. And come to think of it…
‘How did you know where I lived?’ she asked, curious and now a bit suspicious because she’d moved a couple of times before buying this place, and the forwarding address of the flat she’d rented after their divorce had been out of date for years.
He blinked and gave his head a quick shake as if he too had been lost in thought. ‘I have for a while.’
‘That doesn’t answer the question.’
‘Doesn’t it?’
‘Have you been checking up on me?’
‘From time to time.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m not sure.’
Lily didn’t know what to make of that. ‘Am I supposed to be flattered?’
‘Not remotely.’
‘Good.’ Because she wasn’t. Not even a little bit. Truly. ‘Then why didn’t you just call?’ Presumably if he had her address he also had her phone number.
‘It’s late.’
‘Or email?’
‘Couldn’t wait.’
‘Sounds like you were desperate.’
‘You have no idea,’ he muttered.
‘You’re right. I don’t,’ she said loftily, as if she was way above desperation when it came to him.
At her tone, a small smile played at his mouth. ‘This is a nice place.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’ve done well.’
She’d done more than well. Following their split she’d jacked in her marketing job and set up her own business, asking her sister—practically the only person she’d been able to trust—to run it with her.
At the time it had saved her. Been something of her own, something that had belonged to her and she to it, and she’d desperately needed it. That the two of them had been so successful had been unexpected, although of course greatly welcome.
‘I think so. So have you.’
Kit’s smile faded and he tilted his head as he fixed her with
a look designed to make her feel uncomfortable. Which it did. ‘In spite of your best efforts to sabotage me.’
Lily inwardly cringed. When Kit had broken down and confessed to having a one-night stand she’d cut up his suits and scratched his car and then fired off an email to every one of the institutions he’d been planning to seek financial investment from, telling them in no uncertain terms exactly the sort of man they’d be backing. It must have made things difficult for a while to say the least.
‘Are you here for an apology?’ she asked, because although it seemed unlikely it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility, she supposed.
‘If I were would I get one?’
She bit her lip and nodded. ‘You might.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘Seriously?’
She gave a nonchalant shrug as if she hadn’t been racked with guilt for months afterwards. ‘Well, like you said it has been five years and maybe with hindsight I’ve realised that what I did was unforgivable.’
He held her gaze steadily and to her dismay she felt the beginnings of a blush. ‘I guess you did have some justification,’ he said. Then, ‘It was what I did that was the truly unforgivable thing.’
For several long moments, there was utter silence and the air began to thicken with a tension that Lily really didn’t want to explore.
It would be so easy to slip into a painful post-mortem of their marriage but what good would that do? While time had healed the wounds no amount of talk would wipe out the scars, and picking over the bones of their relationship was the last thing she wanted to do when she was feeling so out of sorts. Or ever, for that matter, because she’d done plenty of it at the time. She certainly wasn’t about to launch into a full confessional about how she’d come to acknowledge her role in the breakdown of their marriage.
Besides, presumably Kit was here for a reason, and one that in all likelihood didn’t involve raking up the past.
‘So why now, Kit?’ she asked. ‘After all this time? Why the urgency? Why are you here at nearly one in the morning on New Year’s Day?’
He rubbed a hand over his jaw and began to pace and she got the impression he was nervous, which was odd because nervousness wasn’t a state of mind she’d ever associated with him. Even when they’d waited for the results of the endless pregnancy tests she’d taken, when she’d been a bag of nerves, gnawing on her nails and practically quaking with hope and dread, he’d sat there stonily tense, looking more impatient than anything.
‘Could I get a drink?’ he said, suddenly stopping mid-pace and whipping round.
Lily snapped out of it and stood. ‘Sure. Sorry. What would you like?’
‘Whatever you’ve got. Something strong.’
She went to the drinks cabinet, took out a bottle of brandy and filled a glass. Then she handed it to him, watched as he knocked it back in one swallow and felt a flicker of alarm.
‘That bad, huh?’ she said with a small frown, her resolve to stay strong and aloof wobbling a bit at the realisation Kit wasn’t quite as in control of himself as she’d thought.
‘Pretty bad.’
‘Are you ill?’ she asked, and braced herself.
‘Not exactly,’ he muttered.
‘What does that mean?’
She held up the bottle in case he wanted another but he shook his head and set the glass down on the table. Then he straightened, shoved his hands through his hair and frowned down at a spot on the floor. ‘It’s complicated,’ he muttered.
Lily stashed the bottle back in the cupboard and stifled a sigh. It always was complicated with Kit, but then she wasn’t exactly Miss Simplicity herself. Together, not talking, not listening, not really knowing each other all that well, they hadn’t stood a chance.
‘OK, Kit,’ she said, moving to the sofa and hoping that this wasn’t going to be too traumatic and that she wasn’t going to regret not standing her ground and sending him away when she had the chance. ‘If you want to talk, then talk.’
THREE
If Kit had had any doubt that his troubles were bound up with his ex-wife, it vanished the second Lily sat down on the sofa.
On the drive over he’d told himself that he was wasting his time because why would going to see her work when everything else had failed? What exactly was he after? Forgiveness? Understanding? What made him think she’d grant him either now when she’d been so unforgiving and so un-understanding at the time?
She probably wouldn’t even be in, he’d thought. The Lily he’d known had been a party animal and tonight, after all, was one of the greatest party nights of the year.
But the soft golden light shining through a gap in the curtains drawn across the window at the front of the house had suggested she was at home. And that was when Kit had sent his driver home because, even though he was most definitely not looking forward to it, having come this far he wasn’t about to back out.
It was that thought, along with the strong sense that he was nearing the end of his tether, that had kept him standing there on her doorstep when every defensive bristling inch of her was telling him to go.
It was that thought that had made him ignore her initial reluctance to engage with him, her subsequent spikiness, the occasional flash of temper he caught in her eyes and his strong yet totally irrational and unfathomable dislike of the fact that she was in a relationship.
Everything that had been said or hinted at as well as the simmering undercurrent of tension that had been running beneath the conversation of the last half an hour had taken a back seat to the need to get her to listen and the hope that his ‘problem’ might be about to be solved.
Now, though, his brain was clearing of that too because Lily was sitting down and settling back and crossing her legs, a move that made her dress ride up and exposed a length of thigh.
And suddenly, the memory of how soft her skin felt beneath his hands and his mouth, how tightly she used to wrap her legs around his waist whenever they made love, flashed into his head and, without warning, a wave of lust crashed over him so hard and fast it made his entire body shudder.
Before he had time to recover from the shock of that he was then hit by a whole load of other things that up until that point he’d been too distracted to notice. Such as the way her dress was so tight that it looked as if not a square millimetre of it could bear not touching her. Such as the glorious sheen of her hair, the mesmerising green shimmer of her eyes, the heavenly curves of her body.
He ran his gaze over her and he jolted as if he’d just been plugged into the national grid. Nerve endings that had been dead for so long tingled and quivered and his head pounded with such need he could barely remember his name let alone what she’d just said.
Clearly expecting him to fill the stretching silence, Lily arched an eyebrow and folded her arms beneath her breasts, pushing them together and up and making them swell over the bodice of her dress.
Kit was mesmerised by the movement. His mouth watered, his pulse raced and the sudden urgent desire to haul her into his arms and tussle her to the floor nearly wiped out his knees.
Just as had happened the first time they’d met.
Lily had been on a skiing holiday with friends and so had he. She’d been whooshing down the mountain like a pro, and he’d found himself watching her from the bottom of the slope in admiration. Until towards the bottom she’d lost control, crashed straight into him and together they’d pitched headlong into a snowdrift.
Winded and stunned, for a second they’d just lain there, struggling for breath, their hearts thumping against each other. After a moment, still sprawled on top of him, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushed, Lily had started to apologise, but then her gaze had met his and the apology had died on her lips.
It had been the epitome of madness, but despite the cold snow surrounding them chemistry had taken over, heat and lust had flared between them and within seconds they’d been kissing. Devouring each other. Rolling over so that he was pinning her to the ground, while she wrapped
herself around him and nearly made him forget that they were in public.
Now he was remembering how wild she’d been in bed, how responsive, how hot and explosive they’d been together before everything had started to go wrong. And as the memories began to come hard and fast all his blood shot south, and within seconds he was sporting an erection harder than granite.
Great, thought Kit, beginning to sweat as the throbbing in his body strengthened. No proper action in that department for five long, dry, frustrating years, and yet one glimpse of Lily’s thigh, a hint of soft, luscious cleavage and there it was. His libido, back with ferocious force.
He shoved his hands deep in his pockets as much to stop them from reaching out to strip that dress from her body and touch her as to disguise the very visible effect she was having on him.
‘Well?’ she said expectantly, and he stared at her mouth, desperate to find out if she still tasted the same, felt the same.
Which he couldn’t do, he realised as common sense made a timely and most welcome appearance. For about a billion reasons. She was his ex. He hadn’t thought about her like that for years. She probably still hated him. He didn’t think he particularly liked her. They had more history than the Egyptians. She had a boyfriend. He wasn’t thinking rationally. Or with his head.
In fact, he should probably get out of here. Now. Before he lost control and did something he’d regret. Which was all too possible given the length of his abstinence and the strength of the assault his body and mind were under.
‘I should go,’ he said, his voice sounding scratchy and rough.
Lily stared up at him in baffled astonishment. ‘What? Go? Why?’
‘You were right—we don’t have anything to talk about.’
So much for all that nonsense about being able to behave like rational, sensible, civil adults, thought Kit grimly. Right now he was feeling anything but.
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
She frowned. ‘Are you all right, Kit? You seem kind of upset all of a sudden.’
The effort of keeping himself under control what with everything that was raging inside him was making his jaw ache. ‘I’m fine.’
