by Elise Faber
He hadn’t gotten a chance to respond because Cecilia had jumped out of her seat and bolted for the bathroom. By the time she’d come out, ten minutes later, the flight attendants were serving breakfast and she’d had plenty of time to erect her walls of privacy against him.
Namely those earbuds.
But also by striking up a conversation with the woman in front of them, who’d dropped a book that CeCe had returned.
Then, by the time the women had finished chatting and the breakfast plates were cleared, the plane was descending.
And Colin was trapped beside her, unable to break the silence.
Well, unable wasn’t the correct word.
He could just start talking. The trouble was he didn’t even know where to begin. The past was a series of landmines between them and he’d always thought that he was the one most wronged, that CeCe had returned to Scotland the second time to punish him for his idiotic immaturity of their first summer together, that she’d seduced him and purposely broken his heart because he’d hurt her in the past. Now he was wondering if it was possible that he’d gotten it all wrong.
His mother, hell, even his sister had confirmed that Cecilia had run off with his best friend—former best friend, that was.
But he was beginning to understand that his family could sometimes manipulate him.
It was both fortunate and not, that he’d witnessed the manipulation firsthand when they had sabotaged his buyout of Jordan O’Keith’s technology firm the previous year. They’d cost him millions of dollars and hundreds of hours of his and his employees’ time because they “couldn’t stomach being associated with an American.”
It was only by pure dumb luck that he’d run into Heather O’Keith, Jordan’s half-sister and the woman who’d ended up buying out InDTech, now named RoboTech, at a conference and had been able to explain himself.
He’d apologized, knowing there was no going back and that the millions were lost for eternity.
But Heather had surprised him by offering to hear his ideas for a mutually beneficial working relationship . . . if he had any. Which he hadn’t, of course. Not at that time, anyway. He’d been stuck on the missed opportunity and disappointed he wasn’t working with technology that would truly make the world a better place.
So he’d told her he would put something together and contact her with an agreement she couldn’t refuse.
What a fanciful thought. She’d rebuffed his first three offers, until finally he’d struck the right cord and they’d begun brainstorming on unmanned aircraft technology and how it could be implemented in the third world.
War zones. Natural disasters. How could they get food, water, and medical supplies in when the conditions were too dangerous for personnel?
They didn’t have all the answers yet, but now his biomedical robotic company was going to be working closely with RoboTech for the next five years on developing such technology.
He was finally getting close to something that wasn’t just money, that wasn’t solely based on shareholders and profit and loss statements.
Colin was finally doing something worthwhile.
It had taken him long enough.
Still, Heather’s initial refusals on his projects had changed him in a way he hadn’t expected. Typically, if someone didn’t want to work with him, he said fuck off and went and completed the project on his own. And when it was complete, he then made it his life’s duty to make them regret the rejection.
So there were not many people who didn’t work with him.
Until Heather.
“You going to go cry to mama?” she’d interrupted as they’d spoken over the phone, scorn in her every syllable when he’d begun to threaten along his usual tact. “Not used to being subpar? Going to run off and pout like a little boy who doesn’t want to try harder to make it better?”
He’d been so infuriated that his words had stoppered up in his throat.
“RoboTech is the best,” she’d gone on. “And we never stop trying to get better. Until you’re ready to be all in with that, I’m sorry, but both you and your projects are useless to me.”
And then she’d hung up.
He’d sat there, stunned, surprised, infuriated. But she’d been right.
He had been a spoiled brat in his business dealings, throwing his temper around when he didn’t get his way.
He’d been a twenty-eight-year-old man throwing a bloody tantrum.
Pathetic.
Colin was more thankful for Heather than she would ever know. She’d propelled him into a change for the better, and he was finally, finally a man who could hold his head high.
Pride was a fickle beast, and he’d always gripped his tightly—whether he’d been right or wrong or somewhere in between. But Heather had helped him see differently, and so he was truly on a healthier path now.
His businesses functioned better, he wasn’t chained to a desk all day, every day, and he was finally finding a way out of the dark tunnel that had been his life after his father’s death.
And what was the first thing he’d seen after emerging from the opposite end?
Cecilia.
More beautiful than ever, but with shadows in her eyes and hurt coloring every word.
What had he done to her?
What had his family done?
They’d witnessed her running off with Ewan Campbell. He’d seen the proof in pictures.
But what if he’d been wrong?
What if he’d stopped searching for Cecilia too soon? What if—?
Fuck.
He was filled to the brim with “what ifs” and not any of them made a difference. Because she was here. Now. And he wasn’t going to let her go.
Eight
Cecilia, present day
* * *
Cecilia was thankful to be staying in London for a night. She wouldn’t really get to see anything, but she planned on a longer stopover on her way back to the States.
For now she was happy for a hotel, for some non-airplane food, and for a hot shower and a soft bed.
Not that she’d been uncomfortable in Colin’s arms.
“Shut up,” she muttered, reaching for her book and stuffing it into her tote bag, along with her pillow, her lip balm, and the seventy-three other things she’d managed to strew around during the twelve-hour flight.
“Pardon?” Colin’s voice was slightly rasped, almost sounding unused, and not at all indicative of the fact that they’d just been arguing an hour before.
“Sorry,” she said. “I was talking to myself.”
His lips twitched, his beard glinting slightly in the airplane’s overhead lights. And why hadn’t she noticed it earlier?
The beard was very Chris Evans as Captain America—the second Avengers version where he looked all yummy and scruffy and beyond sexy. Except Colin was a Scot and his accent added a whole other layer of deliciousness that was truly unfair to the female populace.
“So. Not. Fair.”
One black brow sprang up.
She sighed, mentally slapping herself. “Sorry. I’m doing it again.”
He grinned and her panties melted, just slipped right down off her thighs. Okay fine, so the underwear magic act was a complete and utter fantasy, but his effect on her lady parts was not.
She still wanted him.
Once had definitely not been enough, and their single attempt at learning one another certainly highlighted that fact.
He’d given her an orgasm . . . before penetration, that was, but he’d promised her more, better, longer later.
Only later had never come. Not even during their short-term engagement—his family had made sure of that.
It had taken her years of self-exploration and several diligent partners for her to understand her own body. For sex to finally be spectacular. Or, if maybe not spectacular, then at least pretty damned good.
“I always liked it when you did that.”
For a moment, she panicked, thinking she’d been expounding u
pon her sexual delights aloud before she realized that Colin was referring to her proclivity for talking to herself.
“Well.” She shrugged. “Apparently it’s a habit I won’t ever be able to shake.”
Blue eyes locked with hers. “I hope you don’t ever change.”
She gave him a sad smile. “Everyone changes, Colin. It’s a fact of life.”
“I was hoping you’d say that because—”
“Ladies and gentlemen, please ensure your tray tables and seatbacks . . .” came the flight attendant’s voice through the loudspeakers, declaring them ready for landing before discussing connections and the weather in London.
Cecilia deliberately focused on the woman’s words as she opened her window shade and stared out at the landscape.
But she wasn’t really taking in the view of the gorgeous green countryside or the massive sprawl that was London. Instead, she was trying to forget Colin’s words.
“I was hoping you’d say that because—”
Because what?
No. It didn’t matter. The rest of that sentence was not important.
Except it was.
She closed her eyes.
Dammit.
The rest of that sentence was really, really important.
Her bags were lost.
She was planning a trip to Finland with no end date, followed by backpacking around Europe, also with no deadline, and her bags were nowhere in sight.
“All right?”
Colin. Of course.
He held his carry-on in one hand and looked dashing and unruffled despite the long flight.
She’d expected him to be long gone after the hellish line she’d had to wait in to get through the passport check while he’d breezed through the other shorter queue.
Stupid sexy Scot.
She turned back to the conveyor belt, but her bag had not miraculously appeared.
And so her trip was continuing its fabulous start.
“I’m good.” CeCe straightened her shoulders and pasted on a smile. “Lovely to chat with you.” She turned away but didn’t get far. Colin slipped his fingers through the strap on her bag and halted her escape.
“Is this all you brought with you?”
“I’m fine.” She lifted her chin in the direction of the airline’s well-lit office. “I’ve had airlines lose my bags before. It’s not a huge deal. It’ll turn up, so if you’ll excuse me . . .”
He released her and she left, not looking back, not daring to make eye contact with him again lest he see the longing in her eyes.
This was her trip to find herself again, to prove that she was as strong and capable as she hoped to be.
So off she went to file a lost luggage claim.
Like a calm, responsible adult. Not like a mid-twenty-something who wanted to throw a temper tantrum or lie down and cry . . . or better yet to lie down and sleep.
Instead, she adulted.
And hated every minute of it.
Nine
Colin, eight years before
* * *
She was beautiful.
And American.
And gorgeous.
He shook his head, trying to clear it when all he could concentrate on was the woman in front of him with long, long legs encased in tight denim. Her green eyes were an almost startling shade of deep emerald, drawing his gaze while threatening to ensnare him in their depths.
But it was more than just her looks.
She stood, calmly stroking Abharsair’s—Devil in English, Ab for short—neck and not reacting like any sane person who’d nearly been mowed down by his sister’s devil of a horse.
The sister, who was probably still frozen on the hill behind them, reins ripped from her hands when the tree branch had broken and landed behind them, spooking both of their horses.
The only difference was that his horse, Bowen, was well-trained and reliable. He’d put in the time, he’d practiced and ridden and . . . his sister was his sister.
Wanting and never following through.
Not that he’d had time to think of family and all the little irritations they tended to bring into one’s life at that moment. He’d barely calmed Bo and hustled over the hilltop before he’d seen Ab barreling down on a young girl.
Woman, he realized now.
Ab was going to kill her. He’d known it.
But then something miraculous had happened.
Ab had skidded to a stop, and the American had somehow settled him.
The American whose lips were full and teeth bright white as she smiled up at him.
His attraction was instant and all-encompassing, stealing any amount of charm he might have possessed. “What in the bloody hell were you thinking?” he snarled and watched as that smile faded and she took a step back.
The transformation was fascinating to watch. Her shoulders straightened, her spine went stiff, her chin lifted. “Is this your horse?”
He nodded. “My sis—”
“Good.” She tossed the reins at his head and turned away. “Learn to control him better.”
And then she was gone.
She walked proudly around the bend in the trail, wind whipping the bright red curls of her ponytail, lithe legs sure on the softened soil.
Fiery personality.
Penchant for excellent exits.
Brilliant with horses.
Colin watched the luscious backside disappear from sight and knew, just knew that woman was his.
Ten
Cecilia, present day
* * *
CeCe folded the printout from the luggage report and smiled at the woman’s assurances that her bag would be found and delivered to her hotel by the morning. With an inner sigh, she turned and walked through customs with only her carry-on.
Thank God she’d brought a toothbrush and a change of clothes in her tote.
She checked the signs and started walking in the direction of the taxi stand, the mental image of her forthcoming soft and fluffy mattress almost too much to bear.
“Cecilia.” A hand on her arm.
“Shit!” She jumped, lost her grip on her bag, and watched as the contents of her long-ass-plane-ride survival kit rolled in all directions.
Her Chapstick skidded end over end until it slid under a fully occupied row of chairs, her phone skittered beneath a massive rolling suitcase guided haphazardly by a small child and narrowly missed being crushed by its menacing metal wheels. Her pencils and notebook scattered in all directions and her clothes . . . no, her underwear, that went floating across the floor, wafting to a gentle stop on Colin’s foot.
He bent and picked up the flimsy scrap of deep green lace—it matched her eyes, okay? And plus, a girl needed to feel sexy every once in a while.
Or at least that was what Bec had said when she’d gifted Cecilia a trunkful of expensive lingerie before her trip.
“For those sexy European guys,” she’d mock-whispered before her face had gone deadly serious in that fierce lawyer mask of hers. “And for you. Because you’re amazing and beautiful and deserve to feel that way.”
Colin coughed, cheeks going faintly pink. “I-uh . . . sorry about that. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He held the ridiculously small thong clenched in his fist and the sight made her stomach tighten.
Well, not just her stomach. She got that squidgy feeling just beneath her belly button, traveling lower, throbbing, aching, until her thighs squeezed together in a vain attempt at soothing that empty feeling within her.
She blinked before regaining her senses.
Her heart was empty, and she was going to Finland to fill it with beautiful green tinted lights and the wide-open night sky. There would be snow and animals and a glass-roofed cabin of her own. She was going to sort out the loneliness inside her, finally find her place in the world.
And that place didn’t include Colin or his yummy hands or her panties scrunched up all sexily in his palms.
Enough.
In a quick movement, sh
e snatched her underwear from Colin’s hand and stuffed it into her bag. Then she began crouch-walking as she hurried to gather up all her items.
Which didn’t take long because he helped.
Colin McGregor just could not take a hint.
“Cecilia—” he began but coughed again, probably because she’d just stuffed an entire string of condoms back into her tote.
Protection wasn’t just a woman’s responsibility, but damned if she was going to rely on a man to keep her safe.
That’s what led to accidental pregnancies and that wasn’t a romance novel trope she was interested in living . . . not in real life anyway. Between the pages of a book was another thing entirely.
“Goodbye, Colin,” she murmured, slinging her bag onto her shoulder.
“Wait.” He hesitated before touching her arm again. “Let me see you safely to your hotel.” When she started to shake her head, he gave her puppy dog eyes. And the infuriating man gave damned good puppy dog eyes. “Please, CeCe. I know I don’t deserve your consideration, but will you at least let me know that you’re safe and sound?”
She sighed. Was she seriously considering spending more time in a confined space with the man who’d broken her heart twice?
Ugh. She totally was.
“Fine,” she said, giving in because she was too tired to fight, too tired to resist stealing just a little bit more of Colin.
He smiled and the brilliance of it sucked the air from her lungs. God, he had the best freaking smile, wide and slightly crooked on one end, his teeth straight and white, but not perfectly aligned. That little bit of imperfection mixed into all of the flawlessness that was Colin McGregor just added a whole other layer.
It was too much and it wasn’t enough.
She wanted him. She was scared.
She was hurt but remembered the great times they’d had together. The brilliant moments when they were alone, when she was with someone who saw her as her.
When she’d belonged.
Sadness swept through her, and she dropped her eyes to the floor, hurting, absolutely aching for the loss of that time in her life, no matter how brief it had been.