November Harlequin Presents 2(218)

On cue it opened. Abigail, crisp and elegant in a black suit, walked in and, no doubt sensing the tension, gave them both a wide smile.

‘Crisis!’

‘We’re fine,’ Lily snarled, but Abigail laughed.

‘Glad to hear it, but I was actually talking about work!’ Lily balled her hands into fists, more furious with herself for giving Abigail even a hint there was a problem. ‘I’m afraid you’re needed in Singapore.’

‘When?’ Hunter’s voice was even, but his body was still taut with tension. The row was nowhere near over, there were so many unsaid words still sizzling between them as they both attempted to pretend everything was normal.

‘We’re on the 10 a.m. flight!’



There was nothing worse than an unfinished row.

Abigail had packed for him because, as Abigail had explained sweetly, she knew what Hunter needed, leaving Lily standing bristling in the lounge with him. Every now and then one of them would open their mouth to speak, then clearly think better of it, mindful there was nothing that could be said without revealing to Abigail’s undoubtedly pricked ears the reason for their marriage.

It was Hunter who finally broke the strained silence.

‘Will you be OK?’ He sounded tired, as if all the fight had gone out of him, and Lily was appallingly close to crying, but she didn’t let him see that. Better he think her a coldhearted bitch than just another woman who adored him.

Loved him even?

‘I’m sure I’ll cope without you, Hunter.’ She flashed her green eyes at him, directed at him the anger that was turned in on herself. ‘It might take a while to work out my schedule or sort out my clothes in the morning without you doing it for me, but I’m sure I can muddle through till you get back.’

‘Lily, don’t.’ His normally assured voice sounded weary with wretchedness so she toned it down a touch, even managed to feel sorry for him—a long flight and no doubt a frantic work day lay ahead, which made it a very long time till the sun set on this row. ‘We’ll talk when I get back, OK?’

Abigail appeared with her pussycat smile, wheeling Hunter’s suitcase. ‘All set?’

‘Yep.’ Hunter nodded and made to go then changed his mind, ‘Actually, Abigail, I’ll meet you down at the car.’

‘If we’re going to catch that flight, Hunter, we really need to move now.’

‘I said,’ Hunter growled, ‘that I’d meet you down at the car. Now, can I have five bloody minutes’ peace with my wife?’

Lily’s only solace in the whole wretched morning was the indignant look on Abigail’s face as she very reluctantly took herself out of the door.

‘It’s like putting out the cat in a storm,’ Hunter said once the door was safely closed. It was such an apt description that despite her misery Lily managed a wobbly smile. ‘I’m actually going to ask her for the key today—she can use the intercom, like everyone else.’

‘Can’t have her barging in on us rowing.’ Lily offered a feeble joke, still shaking from the argument and all it had unleashed.

He dragged a hand through his hair, and for once it didn’t fall back perfectly. For once he didn’t look like the Hunter she’d first met. Exhaustion seeped from him, those stunning, direct eyes now puzzled and weary.

That was exactly how he felt.

There she stood, confused, wary, defiant and so incredibly beautiful, so, so…vulnerable.

He loathed the way he was acting, loathed the vile tirades that came out of his mouth, loathed that he had reduced them to this. All the fun, all the heady excitement that had brought them together dissipated further with every outburst, but it had to be this way, Hunter reminded himself. With every night they spent together, with every shared laugh, shared kiss he could feel them blending, two separate ingredients forming one so sweet, so infinitely desirable it was torturous not to sample, but if ever self-control was called for it was now.

He wanted to keep her safe—safe from the future he might provide.

Reaching out, expecting her to flinch, to push his hand away, relief suffused him as his hand captured her cheek, as she rested her head into palm, her soft skin beneath his fingers, her delicate fragrance reaching him.

‘What’s wrong, Hunter?’

‘Nothing.’ He closed his eyes as he answered, her question so genuine, her voice so tender it was impossible to look into her eyes and lie.

‘Something is,’ she insisted gently. ‘And if I can help…’

‘You can’t.’ His voice came out way too harsh, yet still he could feel her warmth, feel the infinite well of her caring, and it terrified him. He wanted to tell her so much, he actually wanted to lean on her, to have her hold him.