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One Night with Her Ex
Lucy King
‘Can you honestly say you don’t want me?’Lily Montgomery finds the perfect antidote to an anti-climactic New Year’s Eve: a hot, up-against-the-door one-night stand with a sexy millionaire. Trouble is, the man in question is Kit—the ex-husband she’s spent five years getting over.For Kit Buchanan the last few years have been hellish! He’s conquered the business world, but when it comes to the bedroom he’s had the mother of all dry spells. Clearly he needs to get Lily out of his system once and for all!But one super-charged night later Kit’s not so sure. After all, why move on when he’s having so much fun where he is?



‘Move, Lily.’
‘No,’ she said, her chin up and her eyes glinting in the soft, low light of the hall. ‘You show up in the early hours of New Year’s Day, make a big deal about wanting to talk, and then suddenly you don’t want to talk? You’re making me worried and I won’t let you leave when you’re in this sort of state. So, come on—what gives?’
Now, clearly, was the time to march forward, physically lift her aside and make his escape, thought Kit, with the one brain cell that was still functioning rationally.
But that would mean being near her, laying his hands on her, he reasoned with the part of his brain that was addled with lust. And once that happened he wouldn’t be lifting her out of the way but pulling her close, backing her up against the door and divesting her of her clothing.
Shoving his hands through his hair, he cursed whatever madness had made him think that seeking out his ex-wife had been a good idea.
Dear Reader
Lily Montgomery first made an appearance as Zoe’s sister in THE REUNION LIE, when Zoe borrowed details of Lily’s relationship with Kit to create her fictitious boyfriend. It subsequently turned out that after a whirlwind romance ‘zany and creative’ Lily had ‘a brief but turbulent marriage’ followed by ‘the divorce to end all divorces’—and, while outgoing and fun, was deeply anti-men … her ex-husband in particular.
She sounded like an interesting girl, with a stormy past and an intriguing ex, and the opportunity to explore her and Kit’s story was too irresistible to pass up.
So here it is: a tale about having a second stab at love and getting the rare chance to put right all the things that went wrong first time round. I hope you enjoy Kit and Lily’s journey back to each other as much as I did writing it.
Lucy x
One Night
with Her Ex
Lucy King


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
LUCY KING spent her formative years lost in the world of Mills & Boon
romance when she really ought to have been paying attention to her teachers. Up against sparkling heroines, gorgeous heroes and the magic of falling in love, trigonometry and absolute ablatives didn’t stand a chance.
But as she couldn’t live in a dream world for ever she eventually acquired a degree in languages and an eclectic collection of jobs. A stroll to the River Thames one Saturday morning led her to her very own hero. The minute she laid eyes on the hunky rower getting out of a boat, clad only in Lycra and carrying a three-metre oar as if it was a toothpick, she knew she’d met the man she was going to marry. Luckily the rower thought the same.
She will always be grateful to whatever it was that made her stop dithering and actually sit down to type ‘Chapter One’, because dreaming up her own sparkling heroines and gorgeous heroes is pretty much her idea of the perfect job.
Originally a Londoner, Lucy now lives in Spain, where she spends much of her time reading, failing to finish cryptic crosswords, and trying to convince herself that lying on the beach really is the best way to work.
Visit her at www.lucykingbooks.com (http://www.lucykingbooks.com)
Other Modern Tempted™ titles by Lucy King:
THE REUNION LIE
This and other titles by Lucy King are available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To the challenging, tough, frustrating,
wonderful, crazy thing that is marriage.
Contents
Chapter One (#uf0290a0b-1012-59a4-89f1-6970541ad426)
Chapter Two (#uf8ce6f1a-13ce-5c18-8ce1-acecf51b76a0)
Chapter Three (#u9fb53c5d-400b-5904-95bc-4655963ac7f3)
Chapter Four (#u93487c7b-0c31-55b7-9e7b-749cf0b765d8)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE
Right. That was it. Enough was enough.
As the last of Big Ben’s twelve bongs echoed through the night and the sky began to explode with fireworks, Kit Buchanan knocked back the inch of whisky that was left in his glass and glowered at the dazzling display erupting over the Thames beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse suite.
Forget the work he’d lined up to do this evening; he hadn’t touched it anyway. Forget the fact that it was the middle of the night and freezing cold; what with the burning sensation of the alcohol and the relentlessness of the thoughts drumming through his head he felt as if he were on fire.
And forget the fact that he was about to embark on a course of action that probably required a good deal more consideration than the ten minutes he’d just given it.
He needed to sort out the mess he was in. Now.
For five years he’d been suffering. Five long, torturous, frustrating-as-hell years, and he’d finally had it. He was through with the lingering guilt, the excruciating tension and the crippling anxiety, all of which vibrated through him pretty much constantly and all of which he’d had to live with for far too long. He’d had enough of beating himself around the head with more self-recrimination and regret than any man needed to experience in one lifetime.
And he was sick of having no option but to split up with the women he dated.
The last one, Carla, whom he’d been seeing for a month and with whom he’d broken up just a few hours ago, he’d liked more than usual. He wouldn’t have minded seeing a bit more of her, seeing where the relationship might head.
But that was pretty impossible given the problem he suffered, wasn’t it?
It really couldn’t go on.
Kit slammed the glass down on his desk and made a quick call to commandeer one of his hotel’s limousines. Then he grabbed his coat and strode towards the lift. He punched the little round button and waited, bristling with impatience as his mind churned with details of the trouble he had with sex.
For the first couple of years following his divorce he hadn’t been too bothered by his inability to function in bed. He’d told himself that after what he’d done he’d deserved it, and would willingly take the punishment. He’d assured himself that it wouldn’t last for ever, and that as he wasn’t a hormone-ridden, sex-obsessed teenager he could live with it.
But depressingly—and worryingly—it had lasted, and when matters hadn’t improved a year or two later he’d begun to get a bit concerned.
And while pride and the potential for total humiliation had stopped him from doing anything about it initially, eventually he’d gritted his teeth and summoned up the courage to make an appointment with his doctor.
Which hadn’t helped in the slightest.
The doctor had told him that there was nothing physically wrong with him and had suggested that perhaps his problem was psychological. He’d recommended a course of therapy, which had been pointless largely because Kit hadn’t been able to bring himself to be entirely open and honest with the therapist about his relationship with Lily or the circumstances surrounding their divorce.
After that he’d tried almost every option that was left, astounding himself with the lengths he’d been willing to go to to find a cure. He’d read books, scoured the Internet and acquainted himself with homeopathy. Plumbing the depths of desperation, he’d even given hypnosis a shot.
But he needn’t have bothered with any of it because nothing he’d tried had worked, and it had been driving him nuts.
This evening, after he’d said a regret-laden goodbye to Carla, he’d racked his brains for any course of action he might have missed, anything that might help, and it had suddenly struck him that there was something he hadn’t tried.
It wasn’t guaranteed to succeed, he thought, his jaw tight and a deep frown etched on his forehead as the lift doors opened with a sibilant swoosh and he strode inside, and God knew it wasn’t in the slightest bit appealing, but if the only avenue left open to him was to head straight to what the therapist had suggested might be the source of his problem—namely his ex-wife—and to see if talking might work where everything else had failed, then that was what he’d do, because frankly he couldn’t stand this affliction any longer.
* * *
‘You’re engaged?’
Lily leaned against the kitchen counter for support and wondered what more the evening held in store for her in the shock-to-the-system stakes, because if there was anything else waiting in the wings she was off to bed the minute she hung up.
‘That’s right,’ replied her sister, her voice holding a thread of excitement and happiness that should have been infectious but for Lily, who held the institute of marriage in deep mistrust, wasn’t.
‘Who to?’
‘What do you mean, who to?’ said Zoe, her laugh of disbelief echoing down the line. ‘Dan, of course.’
‘But I thought you’d split up.’ With the hand that wasn’t holding her mobile to her ear, Lily emptied the remains of the champagne bottle into her glass, and took a much-needed gulp.
‘We had.’
‘Didn’t you say you were over for good?’
‘I did. And I genuinely thought we were.’
Lily lowered her glass and frowned as she tried to make sense of what her sister was saying. ‘So what happened?’
‘Tonight happened,’ said Zoe with an uncharacteristic dreamy sort of sigh. ‘He came to find me.’
‘Where are you?’ Judging from the thumping music in the background it sounded as if Zoe was out, somewhere busy, which in itself was unusual given she spent practically every evening in cuddling up to her computer.
‘I’m at a party.’
‘A party?’ Lily echoed, faintly reeling all over again because while going out in the first place was rare her socially inept sister had always considered attending parties a fate worse than death.
‘I know,’ said Zoe, her delight clear in her voice. ‘Can you believe it? I can’t. But anyway Dan showed up about an hour ago, rescued me from an overenthusiastic dance partner and then basically told me he realised what a jerk he’d been and apologised in the loveliest way imaginable. It was very masterful. Very romantic.’
There was a pause while Zoe presumably drifted off into a blissful memory of the moment before dragging herself back to the conversation. ‘Then he proposed,’ she added dreamily, ‘and I said yes.’
Just like that? A few softly spoken magical words and Zoe had fallen headlong into Dan’s arms? That didn’t sound like her ever logical sister any more than dreamy romance did, yet there was no denying that it appeared that that was exactly what had happened.
Hmm, thought Lily, an odd ribbon of apprehension rippling through her. Tonight was turning out to be unexpectedly and oddly unsettling. ‘But didn’t you say over Christmas that you wouldn’t take Dan back even if he were the last man on earth and he came crawling on his knees?’ she asked.
‘Did I?’
‘You did.’
‘Oh, well, that was then,’ said Zoe lightly, as if the fortnight of tears and misery Lily had just mopped up had never happened, as if she hadn’t swung between despair and fury like some kind of demented pendulum, as if she hadn’t given her surprisingly large repertoire of four-letter words an extensive airing. ‘But now it’s all fine and we’re engaged. Isn’t it great?’
Lily took another gulp of champagne and thought that she wasn’t so sure it was all that great. She’d been there, done that, and while she might not be the older of the two she was definitely the wiser when it came to marriage. In her brief but turbulent experience it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, as she’d spent the last half an hour only too vividly and infuriatingly remembering. ‘But you’ve only known him, what? A couple of months?’
‘Three.’
‘Don’t you think it’s a bit soon?’
‘You were married within six,’ Zoe pointed out.
‘And look what happened there,’ said Lily darkly. A mere two years after they’d met and embarked on a whirlwind romance she and Kit had divorced. She’d married in haste and had ended up very much repenting at leisure. Not that she thought much about it these days. Normally.
‘Dan isn’t Kit,’ said Zoe, beginning to sound a little defensive.
‘I should hope not.’
‘And I’m not you.’
‘That’s true,’ Lily said, suppressing a sigh. ‘You’re a lot more level-headed and mature than I ever was. And older. But are you sure you know what you’re doing?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Zoe with a quiet, firm certainty that Lily had never heard from her before. ‘He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me so be happy for me, Lil,’ she added. ‘Please?’
The plea was so soft, so sincere, so beseeching that Lily felt a sudden and unexpected wave of guilt and remorse sweeping through her. What was she doing? She was ruining what was the happiest night of her sister’s life, and why? Because, unsettled by the last half an hour, she was only thinking about herself and her experience. What kind of sister was she?
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Lily closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath.
Just because she and Kit had made a mess of things didn’t mean that Zoe and Dan would. Maybe her sister’s would be one of the marriages that lasted. Dan was great, Zoe was great, so maybe they’d be fine. It happened, she’d heard.
And just because her night had nosedived and she’d been unexpectedly hit by a deluge of memories about what had been right about her own marriage and then a double whammy of regret and self-recrimination over what had gone wrong, that didn’t give her the right to dampen Zoe’s happiness.
Determinedly pushing her cynicism aside Lily pulled herself together. ‘I am happy for you,’ she said, pasting a smile on her face that she made sure her voice reflected.
‘Really?’
‘Really,’ she said even more firmly. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t more enthusiastic earlier. It was unexpected and I was just a bit surprised, that’s all. Congratulations. I hope—no, I know—you’ll both be very happy.’
‘Thanks and we will.’
Lily heard the elation and the hope in her sister’s voice and felt her heart squeeze. ‘I think I might be the teensiest bit jealous,’ she said. Because she could remember how Zoe was feeling all too well. The giddy happiness. The permanent grin. The excitement about the future...
‘Are you all right, Lil?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said, to her irritation her voice cracking a little.
Down the line came a sharp intake of breath and the sound of the heel of a hand hitting a forehead. ‘Oh, crap. Tonight’s your anniversary, isn’t it?’
What would have been her seventh. Not that she’d been counting. Until the clock had struck midnight and she’d been reminded of it at the most inconvenient moment imaginable. ‘It is, but it doesn’t matter.’
‘Of course it does,’ said Zoe. ‘God, I’m sorry. And here’s me banging on about Dan and getting engaged and stuff. I really am quite spectacularly insensitive. I should have thought.’
Lily shrugged as if it didn’t bother her in the slightest. Which it didn’t. Generally. ‘Forget it.’
‘Want to talk about it?’
‘Nope.’
‘Sure?’
‘Quite.’ She didn’t want to even think about it, let alone talk about it, although that was proving annoyingly difficult to achieve this evening.
‘OK, well, call me if you do. Any time. Really.’
Lily knew she meant it. Zoe had been a rock following the divorce, and looking back Lily didn’t know how she would have got through it without her. ‘Thanks. I will.’
‘Look, I’d better go. It’s late and you have an early flight.’
‘It is and I do.’ A smile spread across her face at the thought of the week’s holiday she’d booked following the week of work she had to do first. It would be the first holiday she’d had in ages and she couldn’t wait. ‘And shouldn’t you be snuggling up to Dan instead of calling me?’
‘Plenty of time for that later, I hope. Anyway, he’s gone to get our coats and I wanted you to be the first to know.’
Lily’s smile deepened. ‘Thanks. You do realise that the second I get back I’ll be grilling you for details?’
‘You might regret saying that.’
‘Never. I want to hear every single—’
The ring that reverberated through the silence of the house cut off her sentence and made her jump.
‘What’s that?’ asked Zoe.
‘Someone at the door,’ she said, her smile fading and her heart sinking a little at the thought of who it might be. ‘I should go.’
‘Are you sure you ought to be answering it this late?’ said Zoe, sounding like the older sister she was. ‘I mean, I know there are first-footers and whatnot around, but you are on your own and it is well past midnight.’
‘Don’t worry, it’ll probably be Nick,’ said Lily, despondently pushing herself off the counter and heading into the hall. ‘He left his scarf.’ She’d texted him to say she’d put it in the post, but maybe, despite the disastrous outcome of the evening, he didn’t want to have to wait that long and had decided returning to pick it up was a risk worth taking.
‘Who’s Nick?’
At the interest in Zoe’s voice, Lily inwardly cringed because Nick was history, that was what he was. Unfortunately.
Earlier, however, he’d been the guy she’d invited over for dinner. Nick was an interesting, intelligent, entertaining, good-looking man who made her laugh, and even though they’d only been on three dates she’d been ready to take things to the next level. Had wanted to take things to the next level, because from what she knew about him so far he seemed pretty much perfect: in addition to his favourable personality and looks, he didn’t want children, he didn’t make her pulse race and didn’t appear to have any problem with communicating.
In her book those last few qualities especially made him an ideal future partner, hence the invitation to spend New Year’s Eve with her.
The early part of the evening had gone swimmingly, and exactly according to plan. Nick had turned up on the dot of nine bearing a bottle of champagne and a warm smile that had turned even warmer when Lily had presented him with a deliberately lavish designed-to-seduce menu of four courses, vintage champagne and handmade chocolates.
Over the table and the next couple of hours they’d chatted easily and flirted outrageously, and things had been looking promising. Then they’d moved to the sofa in her sitting room to have coffee and chocolates in front of the roaring fire and at midnight he’d leaned forwards to kiss her.
And that was when everything had gone wrong.
The clock had been striking twelve and as Nick had drawn closer and closer she’d been suddenly and totally unexpectedly hit by a snapshot of her wedding day.
She hadn’t thought about it for years, but around the sixth chime the image of her and Kit wrapped in each other’s arms on the dance floor and kissing as they wished each other a happy new year was there flashing in her head as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.
The image had been deeply unwelcome—and not only because it couldn’t have come at a more inconvenient moment—and she’d tried to blink it away. So much so that Nick had eventually pulled back a fraction and asked her if she had something in her eye.
At that she’d stopped blinking, which hadn’t been working anyway, and instead had told herself to ignore the memory and keep her focus one hundred per cent on the man next to her, who was leaning in once again for a kiss.
She’d studied his eyes wondering exactly what shade of green they could be described as, run her hands through his fair hair and then lowered her gaze to his mouth, but that hadn’t worked either because within seconds she’d found herself imagining she was looking into the dark chocolate-brown eyes of her ex-husband, running her hands through his thick dark hair and kissing his mouth.
Then a bolt of desire had shot through her, her bones had begun to dissolve and her stomach had started to melt while her heart rate doubled.
Deeply unsettled by her body’s behaviour, because first she was pretty sure the desire had nothing to do with Nick and second she’d spent the last five years deliberately avoiding that sort of head-screwing stuff and thus was not happy to feel it now, she hadn’t been able to help jerking back a moment before Nick’s lips touched hers.
Clearly and justifiably surprised, he’d sat back and frowned and asked what was up. She’d been so confused and disturbed by what was going on that Lily hadn’t been able to do more than mutter an apology and something about having an early start.
Nick had said that in that case he ought to be making a move, and it was hard to say who was more startled when she jumped to her feet and thrust his coat into his hand practically before he’d finished speaking.
He’d left, sans the scarf, which in her haste to bustle him out had been overlooked, and she hadn’t been expecting to see him again. Now it seemed she would, and what a way to round off New Year’s Eve that was going to be.
‘Never mind,’ she muttered, because there was no point in Zoe being interested in who Nick was when she’d so well and truly screwed this evening and a potentially perfectly decent relationship up.
Zoe huffed. ‘Never mind? That’s all I’m getting?’
‘Yup.’
‘Hmm. Sounds like my engagement isn’t the only thing we’ll be having a chat about when you get back.’
Lily murmured something non-committal.
‘OK,’ said Zoe. ‘Well, have a good flight and keep me posted about how it goes.’
‘I will. I’ll call you when I get there. And congratulations again, Zoe. I’m happy for you. I really am.’
‘Thank you. Goodnight.’
‘’Night.’
Lily hung up and with a sigh dropped her phone on the table beside the spot where Nick’s scarf lay folded, waiting to be stuffed into an envelope and put in the post. She plucked it off the table and through the frosted glass panels of her front door gloomily eyed the dark shape of a man.
Damn, she’d had such high hopes for him. Why, tonight of all nights, had the memories of Kit and their marriage managed to break through the impenetrable—she’d thought—barriers she’d erected? She’d done a pretty good job over the years of not thinking about her marriage, so why now could she think about little else?
Was it because this was the first year she’d actually spent the anniversary alone with a man instead of flinging herself around a dance floor in the company of dozens? Was it because she was stone-cold sober instead of rip-roaringly drunk?
And why hadn’t she been able to suppress the memories and feelings even once Nick had gone? Why had they stormed round her head as if on some interminable flipping loop: images of Kit kissing her at the altar, feeding her wedding cake and holding her close as they danced; memories of the way she’d felt that day, how deliriously happy she’d been in the months that had followed and then how badly everything had imploded.
As a fresh wave of emotion rolled over her, her head swam and her throat closed over and she filled with an ache so strong her knees nearly gave way.
Well, if this was what New Year’s Eve on her own or in the company of only one other was like she was never doing it again. Next year it would be hundreds of revellers and margaritas all the way.
Drawing in a shaky breath, Lily told herself to get a grip. All she had to do was open the door and hand over the scarf with, perhaps, an apology and the hint of an explanation.
Then she could take herself off to bed, bury herself under her duvet and hope that unconsciousness would take over until her alarm went off and she could busy herself with getting ready for the flight and work.
Simple.
Bracing herself, she pulled her shoulders back. She undid the latch and wrapped her fingers round the door handle. Then she pasted a smile on her face, turned the handle and opened the door wide.
She looked up.
And froze.
The greeting that hovered on her lips died. The apology she’d planned fled. Her smile vanished and her brain and body went into shock because the man standing on her doorstep, stamping his feet against the cold and blowing on his hands, wasn’t Nick. It wasn’t a first-footer.
It was Kit.
TWO
For a moment Lily couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
All she could do was stare at him, her heart thumping too fast, the blood rushing to her feet and her head swimming with the effort of processing the fact that Kit, the man who’d made her happier and more wretched than she’d ever imagined possible, the man with whom she’d had no contact for the last five years but about whom she’d been thinking pretty much non-stop for the last half an hour, was here.
As shocks to the system went this evening this one was definitely the worst.
Half wondering whether her imagination might not have conjured him up what with the unauthorised way it had been behaving this evening, Lily swallowed, then blinked. Hard. Twice. She gave herself a quick shake just for good measure, but he was still there, tall and broad and as jaw-droppingly good-looking as he’d ever been.
More so, actually, she thought, flicking her gaze over him to give her time to gather her scattered wits. He’d changed in the last five years. Physically at least. He seemed bigger, more imposing somehow. He was only, what, thirty-two, but his dark hair was flecked with grey at the temples, and there were faint lines bracketing his mouth and fanning out from the corners of his eyes.
He looked harder, more cynical than she remembered too. But then perhaps that wasn’t surprising since she must have made life pretty tricky for him following the breakdown of their relationship.
Not that either the way he looked or his attitude to life was in the slightest bit relevant to anything any more. No, she’d got over Kit long ago, and she was now totally immune to looks that were overly good and attitudes that were dangerously and possibly attractively edgy, whoever they belonged to.
Still, she could really have done without seeing him this evening. Or ever again, for that matter.
‘Happy New Year, Lily,’ said Kit, his warm breath making little white clouds in the cold night air while his deep voice rumbled right through her and fired a tiny spark of heat deep inside her.
Which she really didn’t need.
Damn.
Telling herself to stay cool and focused, and reminding herself that she was immune to voices as well as looks, Lily stamped out the heat and straightened her spine.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she asked, too on edge with everything that had happened tonight and too pissed off about the spark to bother about mollifying her words.
His eyebrows lifted at her bordering-on-rude tone. ‘Expecting someone else?’
‘Obviously.’
‘Who?’
‘The owner of this.’ She lifted the scarf and he glanced down at it, a slight frown creasing his forehead.
‘Nice,’ he murmured, as well he might seeing as how it was one hundred per cent cashmere and enticingly soft.
‘Very.’ And she wasn’t just talking about the scarf.
‘Is he on his way back?’
‘I doubt it.’ Presumably the return of the scarf by post was fine.
‘Then can I come in?’
‘Why?’
‘Well, for one thing it’s absolutely freezing out here,’ said Kit, turning the collar of his coat up and tugging it higher, ‘and for another I need to talk to you.’
‘About what?’ As far as she was aware they’d said all they had to say to each other years ago.
‘Let me in and I’ll tell you.’
‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea.’
‘Why not?’
Lily frowned. That was an excellent question indeed. Logically there was no reason not to let Kit in. They’d been divorced for years, and it wasn’t as if the experience had been particularly acrimonious or anything. It had been devastating and sad, of course, but in the end they’d both been so numbed by everything that had happened that they hadn’t had either the energy or the will to fight it out.
In fact, the overwhelming emotion she could remember was a sort of resigned relief, because by the time they’d signed the papers there’d been nothing left and nowhere else for their relationship to go.
So logically she ought to give him a wide smile, stand back, wave him in and listen to what he wanted to say.
But then there was that damn spark of heat that was stubbornly and infuriatingly refusing to die.
If anything, it was getting stronger the longer she looked into his eyes, and that alone was reason enough to send him on his way because a spark was how this whole thing had started in the first place, and she was not falling under Kit’s spell all over again.
Therefore he wasn’t coming in.
‘I’m sorry but I’m busy,’ she said firmly.
He shot her a sceptical look. ‘At half past midnight on New Year’s Day?’
‘Yes.’
‘Doing what?’
‘None of your business. Come back tomorrow.’ When she’d be long gone.
‘I’d rather get this over with now if you don’t mind.’
‘I do mind.’
‘Can’t we at least talk?’
Lily fought the urge to roll her eyes. Oh, the irony. Lack of communication was above all what had led to the breakdown of their marriage, and now he wanted to talk?
‘When were we ever able to talk?’ she asked with more than a hint of sarcasm.
As he contemplated her point, Kit sighed, then gave a brief nod. ‘That’s fair enough, I suppose. So how about you listening while I talk?’
‘I don’t remember that working either.’
‘Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t work now.’
Lily folded her arms and lifted her chin. ‘Doesn’t mean it would.’
Kit noted both, and with a scowl shoved his hands through his hair, clearly deciding now not to bother hiding his exasperation at her intransigence.
‘Look, Lily, it’s been five years,’ he said, sounding as if he was struggling to keep a grip on both his temper and his patience. ‘Are you really telling me you don’t think we can behave like rational, sensible adults about this?’
Rational and sensible? Hah. Reason and sense had never featured much in their relationship, and the clear implication that she was the one not being rational or sensible here seriously wound her up.
‘Oh, I’m sure I can,’ she said.
‘Well, I know I can,’ he said, his eyes glittering in the dark and taking on an intensity that made her breath go all skittery. ‘So why are you so against us having a conversation? Can you really not even manage that? Haven’t you changed at all?’
As the questions hit her one after the other, Lily reeled for a moment, stung at the accusation that she wasn’t capable of conversation, then had to concede that he might have a point about the whole having changed thing.
She had changed. She was nothing like the spontaneous, adventure-loving, but possibly a bit self-absorbed girl who didn’t have a clue how to handle what life was suddenly throwing at her she’d been at twenty-four. She was now responsible, successful and focused, and while she still made sure she had fun, the fun wasn’t quite as abandoned as it once had been. She was also way more mature than she had been back then, and way more grounded. And she could converse with the best of them.
And if she’d changed, then why wouldn’t Kit have changed too? After all, she’d read that he’d achieved his dream of owning a string of luxury hotels, which presumably meant that he’d overcome the very large obstacle she’d put in his way and had then set about putting all that nascent ambition she’d seen in him to good use.
From the other snippets of information she’d gleaned over the years—not that she’d specifically looked out for gossip about him or anything—she’d gathered that he was now regarded as something of a cool, ruthless operator in the business world, a man who was intuitive and decisive and rarely put a foot wrong. Given how keen he was to have this cosy little chat, he might even have learned how to communicate.
And as he said, it had been five years.
So maybe she was being a bit obstinate about this, and, dared she say it, childish?
Surely, despite their history, they could behave civilly towards each other? Surely they could talk, catch up even, without things descending into a trip down memory lane littered with bitter accusations, hurtful lashing out and pointless blame-laying?
Maybe she owed it to him to listen to what he wanted to say. In the dark days following their divorce she’d subjected herself to extensive self-analysis and had come to realise, among many other things, that she hadn’t listened much during the latter stage of their marriage, and if he was here, now, it must be important.
Besides, if she continued to refuse, Kit might think she was protesting just a bit too much, and there was no way she wanted him thinking she was affected in any way other than being in shock at his appearance on her doorstep.
Plus it was Arctic out here.
And then there was her curiosity over what had brought him here. Despite her best efforts to crush it that was just about eating her up alive, so all in all what choice did she have?
‘Fine,’ she muttered. ‘But it’s late and I have an early start, so you can have ten minutes and no more.’
‘Thanks.’
His expression relaxed and he shot her a quick, devastating grin that made her stomach flip, her heart skip a beat and that damn spark of heat flare up, all of which reminded her that she had to be careful. Very careful indeed.
Starting now, she thought, standing back and watching warily as he moved past her. She pulled back so that no part of him brushed against her, closed the door and tried not to think about the way the hallway she’d always considered rather spacious now felt like the size of a wardrobe and about as claustrophobic.
‘Go on through,’ she said, her voice annoyingly breathy. ‘The sitting room’s on your right.’
Following her instructions, Kit strode down the hall and into the sitting room. Lily put Nick’s scarf back on the hall table and then followed him, assuring herself with each step that really there was nothing to worry about. She’d got over her marriage and Kit years ago and it was just the shock of seeing him after all this time that was making her react so oddly, that was all.
After taking up a position by the fireplace about as far away from him as possible, she watched him unbutton his coat, shrug it off and drape it over the arm of the sofa. He straightened, thrust his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looked around.
While the fire crackled merrily in the grate, she saw him take in the deep indentations in the cushions of the sofa, the pair of cups on the low coffee table in front of the fire and then, beyond the open doors that divided the space, towards the back of the house, the dining table upon which sat the evidence of what had clearly been a romantic dinner for two.
Surveying the scene through Kit’s eyes, Lily knew what it looked like and was suddenly rather glad she hadn’t got round to tidying up.
She was especially glad she hadn’t done anything about putting out the dozens of flickering candles, turning up the low seductive lighting she’d chosen for this evening or switching off the slow, sexy music that drifted from the speakers embedded in the ceiling in the four corners of the room.
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.’
‘You don’t look fine.’
‘Leave it, Lily.’
‘I don’t think I can,’ she said. ‘You really don’t seem well.’
‘I’ll survive.’
Once he was out of here and out of her head-wrecking orbit and once he had time and space to work out what was going on he’d be absolutely fine.
Probably.
Galvanising into action, Kit grabbed his coat and began to shrug it on.
‘Wait,’ she said urgently. ‘Was it something I said?’
The concern in her voice only made him feel even more confused. ‘No.’
‘Something I did, then?’
Out of the corner of his eye he saw her frown and bite her lip and he gritted his teeth against the urge to throw himself on top of her and kiss the life out of her.
This was horrendous. Why her? Why now? he wondered, his head pounding. He’d met dozens of women over the last few years. Beautiful, intelligent, fun women. Many just as attractive as Lily. Some even more so. So what the hell was happening here?
‘It was something I did,’ she said, leaping to her feet and taking a step towards him, potentially so close that he violently recoiled before she could touch him.
‘Don’t,’ he snapped.
Lily froze. She paled. Frowned. Then said a bit shakily, ‘What’s going on, Kit?’
‘Nothing.’ Why wouldn’t she shut up and let him get on with the business of leaving?
‘Rubbish.’
Kit ignored her. She could be as sceptical as she liked. He didn’t care. He was off.
Not bothering with buttons, he whirled round and made for the way he’d come in, but before he could stride down the hall, through the front door and out into the safety of the dark, cold night Lily had whipped past him and planted herself between him and escape.
He stopped in his tracks while she stuck her hands on her hips and set her jaw, a stance he’d never seen before but suggested she wasn’t going to let him go without an explanation. Which he was damned if he was going to give, so if she didn’t budge he’d just have to lift her out of the way.
‘Move, Lily.’
‘No,’ she said, her chin up and her eyes glinting in the soft, low light of the hall. ‘You show up in the early hours of New Year’s Day, make a big deal about wanting to talk and then suddenly you don’t want to talk? You’re making me worried and I won’t let you leave when you’re in this sort of state. So come on, what gives?’
Now, clearly, was the time to march forwards, physically lift her aside and make his escape, thought Kit with the one brain cell that was still functioning rationally.
But that would mean being near her, laying his hands on her, he reasoned with the part of his brain that was addled with lust, and once that happened he wouldn’t be lifting her out of the way, but pulling her close, backing her up against the door and divesting her of her clothing.
Shoving his hands through his hair, he cursed whatever madness had made him think that seeking Lily out had been a good idea.
And then, beneath his breath, he cursed her because why the hell was she making such a big deal about this? Why wasn’t she just letting him leave? Why did she care what was going on inside his head?
Come to think of it, why was he making such a big deal about this? Why was he getting so wound up by what was happening to him?
He ought to be glad his problem seemed to be solved, that he was ‘cured’. He ought to be thanking her and heading to the nearest bar in search of someone with whom he could make up for lost time. Or calling Carla, perhaps.
And so what if he was still attracted to Lily? There was nothing surprising about that. The chemistry that had existed between the two of them had always been instant, fiery and intense. Even towards the end of their relationship when they’d been too battered by what had happened between them to want to act on it, it had still been there, simmering away in the background.
But what if what he was feeling towards Lily now was more than mere sexual chemistry? Something deeper?
Kit froze as the idea of this stormed into his mind and opened up a whole labyrinth of other possible truths.
What if the problem he’d had sleeping with other women in the last five years didn’t have anything to do with guilt or regret or self-recrimination? What if it was down to the fact that he was still hung up on his ex-wife?
He’d assumed he’d got over Lily years ago. But from the moment they’d met she’d got under his skin and been in his blood, like some kind of fever, the sort that was quick, fierce and lethal. And incurable. So maybe she was still there. In his blood. Under his skin. Tucked away in some long-forgotten corner of his heart.
Maybe that was why he’d kept vague tabs on her. Maybe that was why the idea of her having a boyfriend bothered him so much. Why he’d wanted to remind her of the good times they’d had together and had deliberately if obliquely brought up that afternoon in the woods.
Maybe she still felt something too, he thought, his heart hammering while his mind churned. Hadn’t she flinched when she’d let him in? Hadn’t her eyes darkened and her cheeks reddened when he’d alluded to the al fresco sex?
Despite the cool-as-a-cucumber air she was exuding now, despite the defiant stance, he could hear a slight shallowness to her breathing and he could just about make out a familiar faint flush to the skin of her upper chest. There was also a flicker of heat in her eyes that he didn’t think was solely down to her wish to know why he was here.
So maybe, as chemistry didn’t seem to have a time limit any more than it had anything to do with liking and trust, she was still as attracted to him as he was to her. Maybe it was something more for her too, despite the existence of a boyfriend.
Maybe he ought to think about finding out.
With his common sense spinning off into the distance and his head swimming with need, Kit abandoned what little remained of his self-control and took two steps towards her.
He stopped half a foot in front of her, so close he could smell her scent, could feel her heat, could feel himself helplessly begin to respond to the magnetism that had always pulled at them.
‘Is whoever he is really your boyfriend?’ he asked, looking down into her eyes, his mouth dry and his body wound so tightly it was in danger of shattering.
Lily blinked, clearly taken aback. ‘Nick?’ she said, her breath catching and a pulse hammering at the base of her neck.
‘Yes.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Is that what this is about, Kit? Do you suddenly have a problem with me moving on or something?’
‘Possibly,’ he muttered because, as disconcerting and unexpected as it might be, he suspected he did.
And then her eyes narrowed and filled with indignation, and she pulled her shoulders back and glared up at him. ‘Well, that’s just tough because you don’t get to have a say in what I do any more. You don’t get to have an opinion. And you certainly don’t get to comment on my boyfriends.’
‘I know that,’ he said roughly, trying but failing to ignore the implication that there’d been a few.
‘Anyway, would it be so hard to believe if he was?’
‘Not at all.’
‘Good.’
‘Disappointing as hell though.’
She arched an eyebrow and tilted her head in challenge. ‘Oh, really? Why?’
The provocative stance, the energy emanating from her and the flurry of memories that were now shooting round his head killed off the last remnant of his self-control, and Kit felt himself begin to unravel.
‘Because even though I know it would be mad,’ he said, his voice hoarse with the effort of restraining himself, ‘even though I know we haven’t seen each other for five years and have enough baggage to sink a liner, I’m this close—’ he held his thumb and forefinger a centimetre apart ‘—to dragging you into my arms and hauling you off to bed. The only thing that’s stopping me is this boyfriend of yours and even he’s now beginning not to bother me. So if you have any sense of self-preservation whatsoever, if you don’t feel the same way, then I suggest you step aside and let me leave. Now.’
* * *
As the words sank into her head Lily’s mind reeled and her heart lurched. Kit wanted to take her to bed? Could she really have heard that right? Surely she must have got it wrong. Surely his proximity was having such a disturbing effect on her mind and body that she’d misheard or something because the very idea of it didn’t make any sense at all.
Kit hadn’t given any indication of wanting her earlier. Quite the opposite, in fact. He’d been cool and utterly indifferent to her. Which was entirely to be expected. They hadn’t seen each other in five years and didn’t even like each other particularly.
But no, she thought, blinking up at him in astonishment. It seemed to be that she hadn’t misheard and he really had just told her that he wanted to sleep with her. She could see it in his dark eyes, blazing down at her with barely suppressed desire, and she could feel it in his body, which was radiating heat and vibrating with tension.
And even though it could well be nothing more than a simple case of male jealousy or a misguided attempt at marking out territory or something, whatever it was, for one brief, crazy moment she wanted to throw caution to the wind, fling her arms around his neck and sink into him because it had been so long since she’d had great sex and she missed it more than she’d ever let herself admit.
But she stamped out the temptation, set her jaw and held her ground. She hadn’t spent the last five years of her life building up sky-high defences to protect herself against men who could cause her the kind of emotional turmoil he could only to have them annihilated by the very man who’d created her need for them in the first place. She’d trained herself to look forwards, not back, and Kit didn’t feature in her present, let alone her future.
She didn’t want to sleep with him anyway, she told herself firmly. She was totally over him and completely immune. In fact she rather thought she was appalled, insulted and even disgusted by his suggestion.
Especially if this was why he’d come here. Lily frowned as the possibility crossed her mind. Was it? Was he on some sort of booty call or something?
Well, if he was, she thought, her indignation firing, that was just awful. If he was, she’d have liked to be able to turn back time in order to slam the door in his face when he first pitched up on her doorstep.
‘You want to take me to bed?’ she said, her tone as scathing as she could manage, which wasn’t very because in amongst the indignation and shock was something that felt suspiciously like hurt, although what there was to be hurt about she had no idea.
‘Very badly.’
‘Why?’
‘You have to ask?’
‘Clearly,’ she said dryly. ‘Are you lonely for a little company on New Year’s Eve, Kit?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘You must be pretty desperate if you’re here.’
‘I am.’
‘So what is this? Auld lang syne and the remembering of old acquaintances or something?’
‘I don’t know what this is,’ he muttered, shoving his hands through his hair, looking as baffled as she felt. ‘I didn’t come here to sleep with you, Lily, but nevertheless I want to.’
‘Well, I don’t, so dream on, darling, because it’s never going to happen.’
He nodded. ‘Fine. Then move aside and I’ll go.’
‘Right.’
‘You aren’t moving.’
‘I’m about to.’
But she wasn’t. Because, to her horror, her feet refused to move.
A burst of panic exploded inside her and she felt a cold sweat break out all over her skin.
Why wasn’t she sending him on his way, as he’d demanded? Why wasn’t she moving aside, wrenching the door open and bundling him out? Why was she still standing here, deliberating, struggling with herself?
Struggling with herself?
Oh, no, she thought, her heart hammering. Why was what should be an easy decision a struggle? Why was she dithering? She wanted him to leave, didn’t she? She didn’t care why he was here, did she? She was over him. Wasn’t she?
Kit went very still, alert, like a panther about to pounce. ‘You still feel it too, don’t you?’
‘Feel what?’ she said, so poleaxed by the notion that she even had to question her indifference to him after such certainty for so long that for a moment she genuinely didn’t know what he meant.
‘The chemistry.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said, not altogether genuine now.
‘Yes, you do.’
‘I’m over you,’ she said to convince herself more than him.
‘Are you?’
‘Totally.’
‘Then why aren’t you moving?’
‘You’re in the way.’
He took a step back, but to her alarm it didn’t make any difference to her mobility. And he knew it. She could tell by the glint in his eye, and the panic escalated to such a level that she thought the top of her head was about to blow off.
What if she wasn’t as over him as she’d thought? What if, despite all this time, despite all the lengths she’d gone to to ensure otherwise, she wasn’t over him at all?
Because if she was, she wouldn’t have to spend every anniversary drunk out of her mind to avoid the memories, would she?
If she was, she wouldn’t have found it so hard to drink out of those glasses.
If she was, she wouldn’t be so afraid of mind-blowing sex, and she wouldn’t only enter relationships with men who left her body completely unstirred.
If she was she wouldn’t have felt so hurt at the thought Kit had just come here for sex.
‘Do you want to know what I think, Lily?’
‘No,’ she said, her voice as croaky as if she hadn’t used it for years.
‘I think you’re as over me as I am over you.’
She cleared her throat and tried to pull herself back on track. ‘You can think what you like.’
‘Can you honestly say you don’t want me?’
No. ‘Yes.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Too bad.’
‘I want you.’
‘Well, we can’t always have what we want.’
‘Can’t we?’ he murmured.
She set her jaw because whatever he wanted, whatever she might or might not want—and who knew the answer to that?—them sleeping together would be a disaster of titanic proportions and she had no intention of giving in. ‘No.’
He moved closer, his gaze not letting her look away, and beneath its intensity she felt her resolve, her immunity to him begin to crumble. ‘Are you sure about that?’
Her heart thundered. ‘Quite sure.’ And then at the predatory gleam in his eye, she added, ‘What?’
‘I’ve thought about you, you know.’
She shrugged as if she couldn’t care less but inside she was beginning to shake. ‘Have you?’
He nodded, his eyes glittering, and took a step forwards. ‘A lot.’
‘I haven’t thought about you at all.’
‘Really?’
She nodded. ‘Really. Not once.’
‘Don’t you remember how it used to be?’
‘I remember how it was in the end.’
‘Coward.’ He reached out and touched her hair while his gaze dipped to her mouth, and despite all her protests she shivered.
‘Kiss me and you’ll regret it,’ she said, unfolding her arms and flexing and curling her fingers in warning, but that didn’t seem to stop him.
He tilted his head and looked down at her, his eyes as black as night and so full of intent and desire that she could barely breathe.
‘That’s a risk I’m prepared to take,’ he muttered, and before she could even think of protesting he slid his hand round to the back of her neck then bent his head and captured her mouth with his.
FOUR
Lily tried to keep her mouth closed and her eyes open, she really did, but the familiarity of Kit, the heat of his mouth, his body and his scent blew away her resistance like a dandelion on the wind, and within a second she found herself succumbing to the drugging desire that swept through her.
Her eyes fluttered shut and she moaned and his tongue thrust into her mouth with devilish intent. The heat and the spark she’d felt earlier and had ignored shot back with a rush and her knees went weak.
Any thought of pushing him away vanished. The fingers she’d been flexing in warning now clutched at his shirt to pull him closer because despite everything they’d been through, everything she’d tried to convince herself of over the years, she’d missed him. So damned much.
She could tell herself that she didn’t want and didn’t need that spark all she liked, but, goodness, she’d missed feeling like this. The heady, delirious rush of simple, hot desire, without any of the angst and anguish that had blighted the latter months of their marriage. She’d missed this kind of need, primitive, pure and fierce.
Just when she feared her legs were going to give way and she’d either fall into him or collapse into a heap on the floor Kit broke off the kiss and lifted his head.
‘So is he or isn’t he?’ he asked roughly, his breathing all fast and ragged and his eyes glazed.
She stared up at him, her heart twisting and tugging, and she could feel herself falling under his spell just as she had the moment she’d looked into his eyes at the bottom of that ski slope in Italy.
The longer she looked up at him, the more her head began to swim with the emotions that she’d kept buried for so long and were now breaking free. Love, hate, joy, despair, desire.
And bewilderment, because had she spent the long lonely weeks, months, years since their divorce hoping for this? Hoping he’d come and find her? Had she been living a lie the whole of the last five years? And if she had, what did that make her? Nuts? Lucky? A hopeless case?
And what did all of this mean? Did Kit still feel something for her other than lust? Something more? Were there still feelings between them? Did they have a second chance?
Her mind teeming and her heart racing, Lily let the weight of emotion submerge the voice of reason bellowing in her head and warning her to be, oh, so very wary.
There’d be time for talk later, time for analysis and perhaps regret, perhaps hope. Right now, though, she just wanted him.
With excitement rushing through her and her pulse thundering, Lily took a deep, shaky breath, then said, ‘Despite what I may have implied earlier Nick isn’t my boyfriend, and he isn’t going to be.’
* * *
Kit was wound so tight with tension and desire and the expectation of a slap across the face that for a moment he couldn’t work out what Lily was saying.
And then, when his shell-shocked brain finally got round to working it out, couldn’t quite believe it. Couldn’t quite believe that the risk he’d taken had paid off.
Yet apparently, against all the odds, it had, because here she was, not moving, not lifting her hand to slap him. In fact her eyes were shining, her chest was heaving and she was giving him the kind of look they’d shared at the beginning of their relationship, the one that was filled with heat and need and desperation and had always made his head spin.
That acting on what was clearly going through both their minds wasn’t a good idea didn’t seem to matter. That there was so much between them and starting something up again would only make things worse and set them back years seemed an irrelevance.
Kit was drowning beneath a wave of desire that had been absent for so long and lust was hammering through him so strong and hot that it drugged his senses, wiped out his reason and everything but the thought that he needed this and he needed Lily. With a desperation and hunger that was eating him up. And it was the same for her too judging by the way she’d just kissed him back.
With one quick move, before she had time to rethink the wisdom of her choice, Kit had her back in his arms and was then twisting her round away from the door and backing her up against the hall wall. The feel of her, the heat of her blasted into him and a bolt of sheer desire powered through him.
He planted his hands on either side of her head while she threw her arms around his neck and then their mouths met, tongues tangled and his mind went blank.
He’d never met anyone who kissed as Lily did, who threw themselves into it with everything they had and everything they felt. Kissing her had always been intoxicating and it was no different now. It was familiar and hot and made him burn.

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