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Christmas with Her Ex(18)

By:Fiona McArthur


‘You cut your hair.’

She paused and looked back over her shoulder. ‘Ten years ago.’ And once again the past shimmered between them as they both remembered.

She started off again her with neat little bottom swaying gently in front of him and unwillingly his lips curved. She’d been a funny little old-fashioned girl one minute and the next a gamine seductress, and he’d loved that about her. It had always turned him on and that was another place he’d learnt his restraint.

They’d never actually gone all the way, although plenty of times he’d been sure he’d die if he didn’t. They had been saving the experience for their wedding night. Well, he’d blown that chance badly.

To be fair, maybe some of that had come from his father, who’d threatened him with castration if he got a woman pregnant out of wedlock.

And look where that restraint had got him. Someone else wouldn’t have been so slow to bed her—and it was incredible how bitter, even now when it shouldn’t matter a jot, that thought was.

They reached the bar car without further words but it was as if they were having a conversation he couldn’t quite hear. He saw her tension in the tell-tale stiffness in her neck and rigidity in her shoulders, and wondered if it was just him she was reacting to, or if she was normally a little uptight.

Or if, like him, she felt as though they were walking towards danger—becoming more delicious by the second, perhaps—but definitely danger.

Kelsie wasn’t so sure this was entirely smart. It seemed to take for ever to get there and the whole time she could feel his eyes on her back. She was thinking about the dilemma of seating when they got to the bar and how to keep her distance until she’d figured out her body’s responses.

The worst thing would be to knock knees on the opposing window seats where they faced each other—nowhere to hide there—and second worst would be the risk of brushing up against the full length of him if they sat together on the side lounges. She tried to remember if the fellow standing earlier had had a bar stool beside him at the bar. Yes, she thought he had. She’d head for that and see what happened.





CHAPTER FIVE



‘HOW ABOUT HERE?’ Connor’s voice stopped her headlong dash for the bar stools. So close.

She closed her eyes then opened them before she turned with a bright smile pinned on her face. ‘Sure.’

Window seat! Bummer. ‘You sure your legs will fit under that table?’

‘I’ll manage.’ He cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘I’d like to see your face.’

Oh, goody. She’d been afraid of that. She slid in past the tiny table and rested her elbow on the window ledge while she jammed her knees together and pointed them at the wall.

He slid in and propped his arm on the window ledge as well. She wondered what they looked like to an observer. Probably a pair of wary dogs sniffing around each other, though a quick glance at his face showed him quite relaxed. Amused even, and she wasn’t sure she liked the idea that he could be amused at her expense.

The waiter arrived promptly and Connor inclined his head towards her in mute query.

What did she want? Something that took time to drink and that she could play with when she needed to look away. ‘I’ll have a long gin and tonic, please. With lime.’

‘Certainly, madam.’ The waiter wrote her order down and she wondered why when there were so few people in the car. ‘And the gentleman?’

Connor ordered a Mexican beer and slid his credit card into the man’s hand before he sat back. Darn. She would have paid for her own drink this time.

‘It looks cold outside,’ she said finally, and glanced up at him.

This was the first time she’d really examined Connor’s face up close, dared herself to really look, and the tiny signs of maturity were there if she let herself see. His bones were clearly defined still, his jaw solid, with an even more determined tilt than she remembered, but there were a few tiny lines around his gorgeous grey eyes as if from long periods of intense concentration.

His sensual lips curved as he waited and for a moment she was that star-struck young sixteen-year-old gazing in admiration at this young god who had incredibly chosen her.

For those few brief seconds he seemed to pull at the core of her until she blinked and returned to the real world. The world where she needed to get it over with and apologise and get out of here with her dignity intact—but she had to wait for the drinks.

The waiter returned and Connor raised his glass to her with a glint in his eyes. ‘What shall we toast?’

She drew a breath as the man walked away. ‘To apologies. I’d like to apologise for what happened fifteen years ago.’