Breaking the Greek's Rules. Anne McAllisterЧитать онлайн книгу.
parted. She’d looked devastated, about to cry. Thank God she hadn’t. But what she’d wanted—the hope of a lifetime of love—was his worst nightmare. It brought back memories that he’d turned his back on years ago. What had begun happening between them that weekend was something he wasn’t ready for. Would never be ready for.
So there was no point in making her hope in vain. He regretted having hurt her when he’d left her. But he could never bring himself to regret that weekend. It was one of the best memories of his life.
“Of course I don’t hate you,” she said briskly now. “I don’t care at all about you.”
Her words were a slap in the face. But he supposed he had it coming. And it was just as well, wasn’t it, that she didn’t care? It meant he hadn’t hurt her badly after all.
“Well, then,” he suggested easily, “let’s share a meal.” He gave her his best engaging grin. “For old times’ sake,” he added when he could see the word no forming on her lips.
“We don’t have old times.”
“We have one old time,” he reminded her softly.
Her cheeks grew brighter yet. “That was a long, long time ago. Years. Five or six at least.”
“Five,” he said. “And a half.” He remembered clearly. It was right after that weekend that he’d made up his mind to stay in Europe, to buy a place in Paris.
It made sense businesswise, he’d told himself at the time. But it wasn’t only business that had made him dig in across the pond. It was smarter to put an ocean between himself and the temptation that was Daisy.
She was still tempting. But a dinner he could handle. “It’s just a meal, Daisy. I promise I won’t sweep you off to bed.” Not that he wouldn’t like to.
“You couldn’t,” she said flatly.
He thought he could, but emotions would get involved. So he wouldn’t go there, as tempting as it was. Still, he wasn’t willing to walk away, either. “We have a lot to catch up on,” he cajoled.
But Daisy shook her head. “I don’t think so.” Her smile was brittle. He saw none of the sunny sincerity he’d always associated with his memories of her. Interesting.
He studied her now, wondering what her life had been like over the past five years. He’d always imagined she’d found the true love she’d been seeking, had found a man who’d made her happy. And if the thought occasionally had made him grind his teeth, he told himself a guy couldn’t have everything. He had what he wanted.
Now he wondered if Daisy had got what she wanted. Suddenly he wanted to know.
“Another time then,” he suggested.
“Thank you, but no.”
He knew he was going to get “no” if he asked a hundred times. And the knowledge annoyed him. “Once upon a time we had a lot to say to each other,” he reminded her.
“Once upon a time is for fairy tales, Alex. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”
“Let’s,” he said readily. “I’ll walk with you.”
“I don’t mean go somewhere else,” she said. “I mean I have to go back inside. I have work to do. In my office.”
“Matchmaking?”
She shook her head. “Not tonight.”
“Photography?” He remembered the camera, how it had been almost a natural extension of who she was.
She nodded, smiling a little. It was a real smile.
“You’ve got your own business then?” he pressed.
“Yes.” She nodded. The smile stayed.
“Families? Kids? People of all shapes and sizes?” And at her further nod, he said, “Show me.”
She almost moved toward the door, almost started to invite him in. But then she stayed where she was, gave her head a little shake. “I don’t think so.”
“You took photos of us.” Sometimes he’d wished he had one. To take out and remember. But that was stupid. It was better to forget.
She shrugged and looked just a little uncomfortable. He wondered if she still had the photos.
“Why matchmaking?” he asked her suddenly.
She shrugged. “Long story.” And no invitation to ask her to tell it.
He lifted a corner of his mouth. “I’ve got time.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re scared.”
The color in her cheeks bloomed again. “I am not scared! What’s there to be scared of?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.” He cocked his head. “Temptation maybe?”
She shook her head adamantly. “I’m not tempted. I’m busy. I have things to do. I haven’t seen you in five years, Alex. I barely knew you then. We don’t have a past to catch up on.”
“We had a hell of a lot.” He didn’t know why he was persisting, but he couldn’t seem to leave it alone.
“And we wanted to do different things with it. Goodbye, Alex.” She turned away and started to go back inside.
But before she could, Alex caught her arm, and spun her slowly back, then did what he’d been wanting to do ever since he’d realized who she was.
He dipped his head and kissed her.
It was instinct, desire, a mad impetuous hunger that he couldn’t seem to control. It was a roaring in his ears and a fire in his veins. It was the taste of Daisy—a taste he’d never forgotten. Never. And as soon as he tasted her, he wanted more.
And more.
For a second, maybe two, Daisy seemed to melt under the touch of his lips. She went soft and pliable, shaping her mouth to his. And then, in another instant, it was over.
She jerked away from him, stared at him for one horrified moment, cheeks scarlet, mouth still forming an astonished O. Then she pulled out of his grasp and bolted back inside the foyer.
“Daisy!”
The door slammed in his face.
Alex stared after her, still tasting her. Jolted, intrigued, stunned. Aroused.
Five years ago Daisy had been like a siren he’d followed eagerly, mindlessly, hungrily. He’d wanted her on every level imaginable. And having her that weekend over and over hadn’t assuaged his hunger. He’d only wanted more.
Leaving, thank God, had removed the temptation.
And now—within minutes of having seen her again—it was back. In spades.
It was the last thing he wanted. The last thing he needed.
Alex turned and walked down the steps, pausing only to drop the paper with her name and address in the trash.
She had been right to say no. He would be smart and walk away.
Ten minutes later Daisy was still shaking.
She sat at her desk, staring at the photo she was editing, and didn’t see it at all. Eyes closed or open, she only saw Alex—older, harder, stronger, handsomer—in every way more, even more compelling than the younger Alex had been.
She shuddered and scrubbed at her mouth with her fingers, trying to wipe away the taste of his kiss.
But all the scrubbing in the world wouldn’t do that, and she knew it. She’d tried to forget it for years. It hadn’t done a whit of good.
She hadn’t even tried to forget him. That would have been impossible. But as time