The Purest of Diamonds(71)

                The door was the only thing between them now. She could sense Raffa standing behind it as she stretched out her hand and wrapped it around the handle. Taking one steadying breath, she flung the door wide.

                He looked amazing.

                Never mind that. Forget the impulse to fling herself into his arms with relief. Raffa had been out of contact for months. The right thing to do was to stand back and be cool with him—

                To hell with that!

                Flinging her arms around his neck, she hugged him as if her life depended on it. ‘Raffa!’ The air was cold and frosty, and his stubble-roughened cheek was cold, but he smelled warm and delicious, and he was every bit as solid and fabulous as she remembered. ‘How wonderful to see you.’

                ‘You too, Leila,’ he said quietly.

                Untangling herself, she stood back, feeling rather stupid. That was a ridiculous greeting to give someone she hadn’t seen for months, and now she couldn’t gauge Raffa’s reaction to her overly excited puppy act. He was taking his time to look her up and down as her cheeks fired with embarrassment. ‘Won’t you come in? Please, come in out of the cold...’ And give me chance to compose myself, she thought as she turned her back on him.

                Closing the door once Raffa was inside, she turned around. Muffled up in a heavy dark jacket and jeans, he looked insanely handsome. And she loved him so much that was crazy too, especially as her love had no basis in hope or reality. She couldn’t help herself. She was nuts about him. And would have to hide it, if this wasn’t going to be the most embarrassing encounter of all time.

                ‘Nice,’ he said, glancing round the cabin.

                There was genuine warmth in his voice and she relaxed a little, enough to tell him, ‘The cabin has been in our family for generations.’

                ‘You’re very lucky, Leila—to have such a history. And such a strong bond with a place.’

                Unlike Raffa, she thought, remembering what his grandmother had told her about his youth. ‘Yes, I am,’ she agreed as he continued to look around.

                What a lot of space he took up, and the little that was left was filled with his energy. She’d never think of the cabin the same way again, she realised as Raffa absent-mindedly shrugged off his jacket in response to the cosy heat. She took it from him. It was still warm from his body and she tucked her hands inside it as she went to hang it up.

                ‘When you said you lived in a cabin, I had no idea what to expect,’ he admitted, ‘but you’ve made such a lovely home here. And the surroundings... The lake, the trees, the mountains, the drive here—it’s all spectacular.’ The sexy mouth pressed down as he shrugged. ‘No wonder you never want to leave Skavanga.’

                Never leaving Skavanga suddenly seemed an unreasonable penalty for leaving the rest of the world and Raffa Leon behind. ‘Skavanga’s lovely, but it’s nice to get away from here too.’

                ‘To the island?’

                ‘Your island is beautiful, Raffa.’

                ‘Yes, it is.’

                His gaze lingered, warming her face. It was as if they were both reading each other, searching for clues, looking for changes. Just hearing Raffa’s voice in her home was like having the most beautiful soundtrack to a romantic film playing. It wasn’t so much the words he used, but the timbre, the pitch—

                And was this a good idea? she wondered as they continued to stare at each other. There was so much to catch up on, so much to work through.