by Lucy King
Lily winced as everything he had accused her of—self-absorption, surliness, lack of understanding among others—all came back. ‘I guess we both said things we probably shouldn’t have.’
‘Probably,’ he said with a nod. ‘But I’ve had time to think too and I was too quick to absolve myself of any of the blame. Whatever was happening to us, I should have made us deal with it together. I regret the fact that I didn’t.’
For a moment they lapsed into silence, the space between them no longer filled with regret but a sort of tentative understanding.
‘Listen to us,’ she said softly, ‘each trying to take the blame for the way things turned out.’
‘Unlike when it actually happened when all we could do was blame each other.’
‘Exactly.’
Kit smiled, his eyes glittering in the candlelight. ‘Who’d have thought we’d get so wise?’
‘Well, I’ve had a lot of time to think and I ended up figuring that for me it was like someone—you—had died or something because the man I knew would never have done something like what you did. So I kind of went through the whole grief thing, starting with shock and rage. It took me a while and a lot of wine to get round to the acceptance and forgiveness stage but I got there. And here we are, I guess.’
Kit didn’t say anything to that, but just looked at her for several long, heavy moments, his eyes darkening and the expression on his face changing into something that made her heart thud and her throat tighten.
‘What?’ she asked, her voice husky.
‘You’re incredible.’
‘No, I’m not,’ she said, trying to tamp down the surge of heat rising up inside her and the thudding of her heart. ‘Just a bit older maybe and appreciating the benefit of twenty-twenty hindsight. Anyway, it isn’t all one-sided. Didn’t you say you’d been thinking too?’
‘I’ve had my moments.’
She shot him a rueful smile. ‘And it’s not like I didn’t do things I regret.’ Her smile faded and she bit her lip as a familiar wave of shame rolled through her. ‘I’m sorry about cutting up your clothes and keying the Porsche, Kit.’
‘Don’t be.’
‘And the email was truly unforgivable. I should never ever have done that.’
Kit shrugged. ‘Water under the bridge.’
Not for her. Once the initial surge of triumphant satisfaction had faded she’d felt sick and hollow and riddled with guilt. Still did a bit. ‘Did it make things very difficult?’
‘Pretty tough.’
She inwardly cringed. ‘What did you do?’
‘Having been informed of my questionable integrity none of the British banks would lend me anything and the venture capitalists wouldn’t touch me with a bargepole so I went to the States.’
‘I read that your first hotel was in New York. I wondered about that. Will you tell me how you did it?’
*
And so, over the course of dinner, Kit did. He told her how after New York he’d moved to Paris and set up a hotel there. And then, most recently, London.
He told her of the satisfaction he felt of realising the dream he’d had ever since his jet-set parents had taken an apartment in Claridges, the dream that had sustained him through his degree in hotel management and his swift climb up the ladder. He shared the obstacles he’d faced and the successes he’d had.
And in return Lily told him how she’d come to start her business, how shortly after their divorce she’d resigned from her much-loved marketing job. How, needing the distraction of a new challenge, she’d hit upon the idea of offering a range of products to help businesses improve their customer experience. She’d put it to Zoe, who’d been keen, and that was that.
She asked after his parents, and he learned that Zoe was engaged. They discussed a few previously mutual friends with whom only one of them had stayed in touch, the places they’d lived, and caught up on as much as they could while skirting round the subject of lovers in her case and lack of them in his.
Dinner was delicious. At least Lily had told him it was. Personally Kit couldn’t taste a thing. He was too busy reeling from everything she’d admitted between their aperitifs and the arrival of the food. Too busy recovering from the mind-blowing discovery that she’d forgiven him and that the second chance he’d so badly wanted might be closer than he’d dared hope. Too busy revelling in the sound of her voice and her laugh, watching her expressive face and losing himself in the depths of her mesmerising eyes. And too busy realising that there was no longer any doubt about whether or not he loved her.
He was absolutely nuts about her. She was the strongest, toughest, most beautiful woman he’d ever met and he was a fool to have ever let her go. He’d never fallen out of love with her and he was going to do everything in his power to win her back.
But he couldn’t barge in and tell her what he wanted, he thought suddenly, watching Lily drain the last of her coffee and stifle a yawn. He couldn’t carry on with the strategy he’d employed up until now. He was going to have to tread carefully. Their relationship was so fragile, their truce so new, and he could so easily screw things up with his impatience, his need to be in control and his continual drive to move things forwards.
It might be the challenge of the century but with Lily he had to switch mindsets. He had to take a back seat and wait. He had to let her come to him, and then they could begin to build their relationship from there.
So there’d be no more chasing. No more persuading her to do things she didn’t really want to do. No more doing anything that might scare her off.
Whatever happened next had to be her decision. All he could do was ensure that he did his best to help her make the one he wanted.
*
Despite her initial misgivings the evening really couldn’t have gone any better, thought Lily, walking beside Kit as he escorted her back to her villa, the inky darkness of the night wrapping round them like a warm, cosy blanket.
Once they’d moved on from the difficult topic of their mess of a marriage, accompanied by course after course of heavenly food and delicious wine, the banter had batted back and forth with barely a break for breath. They’d had so much to talk about, so much to find out. It had been just like old times, but somehow better.
As they’d begun to get to know the people they’d become, Lily had found herself liking Kit more and more, and beneath one lethal smile after another she’d felt herself fall deeper and deeper under his spell.
She’d known it was happening, known that she was being foolhardy and reckless in not bothering to resist, but it had been such a long time since she’d felt like this, all relaxed and languid yet buzzing at the same time, that she hadn’t been able to stop herself.
And hadn’t really wanted to because over the course of the evening the answers to the questions she’d spent this afternoon trying to figure out had become increasingly clear, and now it seemed that the night held myriad possibilities.
Possibilities that had her body thrumming with anticipation and her heart thumping crazily because dinner had cleared the air. Cleaned the slate. Had maybe, even, reset their relationship, put them back at the start and cleared the way for a stab at a second chance together, free from and prepared for all the trouble that had come their way the first time round.
The idea was kind of thrilling, she thought, going all shivery and hot inside. Exciting. And what she wanted.
What Kit wanted, however, was completely up in the air. He’d been silent and thoughtful ever since he’d offered to walk her back, and infuriatingly wasn’t giving anything away.
But if he was as achingly aware of her as she was of him then there was only one logical conclusion to tonight, and even though on some dim and distant level she knew the idea of falling into bed with him again needed way more consideration, the desire simmering inside her was too insistent to ignore.
‘You know, if I’d known how cathartic getting all that stuff off my chest was going to be, I’d have been in touch with you years
ago,’ said Lily a little huskily as they strolled up the path to her villa.
‘Would you?’ he murmured.
‘Absolutely. I feel as if I’ve spent the last five years carrying this enormous kind of weight that’s suddenly gone. I feel lighter somehow. Calmer.’
‘I know what you mean.’
‘I’m glad we talked. And had the chance to catch up,’ she added with a smile.
‘So am I.’
At her door she turned to him and lifted her face, her pulse hammering so hard he must surely be able to see it. Would surely act on it.
‘So what happens now?’ she said, the anticipation and excitement zipping through her making her all trembly inside.
‘Now?’ he said, reaching out a hand and softly running his forefinger down her cheek.
She nodded and held her breath as every one of her senses focused on him and this moment.
He tilted his head, his eyes dark and unfathomable. ‘Well, sweet pea, that rather depends on you.’
‘Me?’ she echoed softly, the endearment and his touch stealing her ability to think straight.
He nodded and gave her a faint smile. ‘That’s right. So have a think about it and let me know.’
And just as she was about to ask what he meant Kit bent his head, dropped a light kiss on her cheek and then, to her utter bewilderment, turned and walked off into the night.
SEVEN
Lily didn’t sleep well—largely because she’d spent most of the night tossing and turning while her body hummed with frustration and unsatisfied desire and her mind churned with confusion—and when dawn broke she was still wide awake, the questions that had plagued her all through the night still rattling around her head.
What on earth was Kit playing at? she wondered, staring up at the slowly rotating ceiling fan that hung over her bed and listening to the soft whirr it made.
Last night she could have sworn he’d been as aware of her as she had of him. She’d been convinced that the practically tangible tension and attraction had been mutual. And what with the endearment, the one she hadn’t heard for years, and the touch to her cheek, a gesture so familiar and so missed it made her heart ache just to think about it now, she’d been certain he’d ask to come in for a nightcap, and equally certain that she’d say yes.
But how wrong she’d been. How disappointingly, confusingly wrong.
After the urgency of what had happened in her hall last week and the way he’d crossed half the globe to come and find her—not to mention the interest she’d thought he’d displayed over dinner—the fact that he’d suddenly backed off baffled the hell out of her. She hadn’t been expecting—or wanting—the restraint she’d got, the chaste little kiss, nor the tossing of the ball neatly into her court.
And what was that all about anyway?
What had he meant when he’d said that what happened next was up to her? Why was it up to her? And up to her how?
What was he expecting her to do? Make a move? Jump his bones or something? Well, that was never going to happen without some kind of signal from him, she thought darkly. Not now. No way. She needed to know how he felt about her before she made herself vulnerable like that again. She needed to know that there was more to this than just sex.
And unfortunately she didn’t, because, while last night she’d had all kinds of ideas about how he might feel about her and had been so ready to drag him into her bed, this morning she didn’t have a clue. For all she knew the endearment and the touch had merely slipped out of him from habit and meant nothing.
So where did they go from here? Where did she want them to go? Where did he?
Bending her head from side to side to stretch out the kinks in her neck, Lily frowned. Gosh, why was this so difficult? So complicated?
With a sigh of resignation and despair because she was now more at sea than at any point since he’d reappeared in her life, Lily swung her legs round and got off the bed.
Whatever was going on, she thought, heading into the bathroom and flicking on the shower, she had no doubt she’d soon find out, because given the way Kit had gone about things so far it was surely only a matter of time before he turned up demanding to know what she was going to do with that ball.
*
Or perhaps it wasn’t.
Two hours later Lily had had breakfast—by herself—and had hovered by the pool for plenty long enough to be found, but to her agitation and disappointment there was no sign of Kit anywhere.
Where was he? Busy? Avoiding her?
Or had he left?
Maybe he had, thought Lily, lowering the e-reader that she’d been staring unseeingly at for the last ten minutes, and frowning with distaste as the idea shot into her head and took root.
Perhaps she’d been too idealistic in her assumption that they’d cleaned the slate. Perhaps her confession over supper put him off or something. She couldn’t really see why it would, and the ease of their subsequent conversation hadn’t given her that impression, but with hindsight she had rather let it all out without letting him get much of a word in edgeways.
Perhaps their conversation, the understanding they’d reached and the catch-up they’d had was exactly what he’d been after—closure—and now he’d got it he was done.
Maybe he was after nothing more than friendship or something and he was perfectly happy for her to let him know what she thought about that once back in London.
Maybe the kiss he’d dropped on her cheek had been not one of restraint but one of goodbye.
Her heart squeezed and her throat tightened. Then she gave herself a quick shake and pulled herself together because on the other hand it was entirely possible she was being a bit melodramatic about where he could be.
Surely Kit wouldn’t have flown all the way out here just to leave less than twenty-four hours later. Hadn’t he said he was on holiday? And surely he’d want to hang around to hear what decision she’d come to, even though she hadn’t come to one because she still couldn’t figure out what she was supposed to be deciding.
For her own peace of mind, though, and out of respect for the author of the book she was struggling to concentrate on, maybe she’d better go and check if he was still here. Then at least she’d know one way or another and would know how to proceed.
Putting her e-reader down and reaching for her sarong, Lily got to her feet and headed inside.
‘Good morning,’ she said to the receptionist, with a sunny smile that totally belied the weird kind of tension now clutching at her stomach. ‘I was wondering, could you tell me whether Christopher Buchanan has checked out?’
‘Not to my knowledge, madam,’ he replied.
‘Oh, thank God for that,’ she said, clapping her hand to her chest and letting out a rush of breath as the tension dissipated and she filled with an overwhelming sense of relief. More overwhelming than the situation warranted, probably, but who cared?
‘Would you like to know where he is?’
‘I would.’ Very much. Because if he wasn’t coming in search of her, she’d go in search of him.
‘I believe he went to the spa.’
‘Thank you.’
Phew, she thought, leaving the main building and walking along the track towards the thatched structure that contained the spa. Kit hadn’t gone. He was just having some time out. Relaxing. Doing what millions of people all over the world did on holiday.
Although choosing to do it in a spa did seem kind of incongruous. She’d always thought of him as a man of action and purpose, constantly on the move and unstoppable in his drive for more. He’d never been one for navel-gazing and just sitting around doing nothing, but maybe he’d changed in that respect too. It had been five years after all, and no one—not even Kit—could keep up the kind of level of both mental and physical activity she associated with him for ever.
And even though the idea of him lounging in a steam room or having a massage or something was difficult to reconcile with the Kit she’d once known, she found it s
urprisingly easy to visualise.
In her mind’s eye she could see him sitting on one of the wooden ledges, leaning back against the wall while the steam swirled around him. She could see droplets of water forming on his chest, trickling down over the smattering of hair that covered his skin there, tracing the ripples of his abs and then meandering south before melting into the top of the towel wrapped round his waist.
She could see him closing his eyes and dropping his head back, and her mouth actually began to water as she imagined leaning over and pressing her lips to the skin of his shoulder to catch a droplet and then make the journey it would have made with her tongue.
Right the way down…
At the image of what she might do then, a bolt of heat shot through her, nearly wiping out her knees, and she had to grip the door to the spa for support.
Good Lord.
Feeling faintly dizzy, Lily gave herself a quick shake to dispel the image, determinedly ignored the heat and cleared her throat. She hadn’t fantasised like that in years and had no business doing so now. She wasn’t seeking Kit out to drool all over him or to melt into a puddle of lust at his feet; she was going after him to see if she couldn’t find out a bit more about what he thought was going on here.
*
Five minutes later she’d found him. Not in the steam room, thank goodness, but in the Jacuzzi. Which actually wasn’t all that much better. Because he was naked.
Well, perhaps not entirely naked, she had to concede once her stupefied brain had started working again and the common-sense robbing flush of heat had subsided. Seeing as how the spa was a public space presumably he had swimming shorts on. Not that she had any intention of investigating that too closely.
Which was just as well as her eyes seemed to have fixed on his chest and rather worryingly weren’t going anywhere, south or otherwise. The way he was sitting, with his arms outstretched and resting on the edge of the pool while water bubbled and popped all round him, displayed it in all its glory, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away.
It was a good chest, she thought dazedly, every nerve ending she had tingling with awareness. Better now, if that was possible, than when she’d first become acquainted with it. His shoulders were broader, his muscles looked harder, more defined, and his skin was a fraction darker.