She had already worn two sets of chicken fillets in her bra. She hadn’t particularly liked her body shape herself. Dresses that had fitted her around the hips and thighs had sagged over her chest—unless she’d worn her chicken fillets. But she could have lived with that because the rest of the world hadn’t seen her naked.
Only Jack had. But he hadn’t liked what he’d seen.
It had taken all her strength and resilience to get rid of him. Once she’d had the breast implants he’d started suggesting other improvements. So she’d made the ultimate improvement and got rid of him—tossing his clothes out onto the street—before he’d dragged her down any further.
She would never, ever let another man do that to her.
Let another man make her feel that way.
Not even Iain McKenzie.
It had taken her time to accept the changes to her body. To finally realise that she did actually like the shape she had now. She only wished she’d made the decision for herself. She wouldn’t let anyone chip away at her self-esteem again.
She started to walk in the rain. Striding down the same street that he’d taken, following the road to his townhouse. She didn’t care that it was late at night. She didn’t care that she was the only person crazy enough to be out in weather like this—right now it matched her mood.
And as if to magnify her building temper, there was a flash of lightning above her, closely followed by a rumble of thunder.
Her anger built with every step she took.
She knew there was something between them. Any fool could see that.
How dared he call what had just happened a mistake?
He’d felt every single thing that she’d felt. He’d felt every tiny little spark and electric current that she had.
He’d been every bit as turned on as she’d been.
Did he think this was something she did every day—in the middle of the street?
No. She wouldn’t let him treat her like that. Not for a second. Not in this lifetime.
Her footsteps quickened. Her normally bouncy curled hair was drenched, hanging in bedraggled ropelike swaths around her head. She reached up and rubbed her eye, coming away with a dark-washed smudge. What little mascara had been there was now obviously streaked down her face. But she didn’t care.
She had no desire to go home and get changed. To strip off her wet clothes and climb under a warm duvet. The lightning flashed again. It was spurring her on, guiding her path straight to his door.
She climbed up his steps and put one finger on his doorbell, pressing hard and leaving it there. The other hand she clenched into a fist and banged on the door. She wouldn’t be ignored. She wouldn’t let Iain ignore whatever this was between them.
The door creaked open just as a rumble of thunder sounded overhead again and the dark clouds pitched above her.
Iain was bare-chested, obviously in the middle of stripping off his clothes. The dark circles under his eyes and shadow along his jaw only fed her fury even more.
‘Lexi! What are you doing here?’
She pushed past him—not waiting to be asked to come in, and stood in the middle of his wide hallway, letting a huge puddle of rainwater form at her feet.
She clenched her jaw. ‘You. Won’t. Treat. Me. Like. That.’ Every word was forced. Every word angrily controlled.
His hands were trembling as he closed the door behind her, shutting out the storm outside but not the one inside.
She said nothing. Stared him down. Watched the changing emotions on his face. She was strong enough for this. Whatever it might be.
She could see the pulse throbbing at the base of his neck, see every dark, curly chest hair standing on end.
But he didn’t say a word. Not a single thing.
He just moved. And started kissing her like she’d never been kissed before.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT WAS FIVE O’CLOCK in the morning and the first early streams of light were edging their way through the gap in the curtains. Lexi turned over in bed, her hand coming up automatically and touching her still-damp hair. It seemed impossible to believe that shaggy-haired Iain didn’t possess a hairdryer, and her thick, long hair held the dampness, causing her to spend most of the night turning her pillow over.
‘Wanna swap?’ Iain was watching her with his dark brown eyes.
‘Absolutely.’ She smiled. ‘I’m ruthless when it comes to bedding.’ She grabbed the pillow he offered and sank down into the soft dryness, pushing the still-damp one in his direction.
He picked up a lock of her blonde hair. ‘Doesn’t matter if your hair is damp, Lexi. You still look beautiful.’
She shifted in the bed, instantly uncomfortable. ‘You don’t need to talk me into bed, Iain, I’m already here.’
His eyes widened. ‘Why on earth would you think that?’
She pulled the light sheet a little closer to her body and sighed. ‘I know I’m not beautiful, Iain. I’ve spent my life living in the shadow of the “world’s most beautiful woman”,’ She lifted her fingers in the air to make imaginary quote marks. ‘You just learn to accept that will never be you.’
Ian lifted his head and propped it up on his hand. ‘What do you see when you look in the mirror, Lexi?’
She frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m betting you don’t see what I do. Not even close.’
She pulled the sheet up above her breasts, as if shielding herself from him. She was almost too scared to ask the next question. ‘What do you see?’ she whispered.
He lifted a finger and traced it lightly down the side of her cheek. ‘I see a gorgeous young woman, with beautiful skin, perfectly intact—not damaged by the sun in any way.’ He ran his finger over her eyelids. ‘I see the most beautiful blue eyes. There’s a little hint of turquoise and they remind me of the sea next to a Caribbean island.’ His finger dusted her eyelids. ‘I see thick, dark lashes that most women would give their eye teeth for and a pair of lips that were exclusively designed for kissing me.’
She smiled and he leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips. She closed her eyes a little. ‘Okay, so I’m starting to like that.’
His hand drifted under the sheet and she felt herself tense a little. He hadn’t mentioned her surgery. Hadn’t mentioned it at all. And it struck her as strange. He was a surgeon. He’d known from the very first time their bodies had made contact that she’d had surgery. And he had certainly appreciated her breasts last night.
The pads of his fingers caressed her shoulders then followed the curves of her body. He pulled the sheet back a little. ‘I’d ask you who did them, but I might get a little jealous. Because they’re perfect.’ His finger danced along the almost invisible scar under one of her breasts.
‘You really think so?’ Her voice was hesitant. She’d expected him to criticise. For all he was a surgeon himself, he didn’t seem to rate cosmetic surgery very highly.
He nodded slowly, his eyelids still heavy with fatigue. ‘I just wonder why you felt as if you needed them.’
It was a natural question, particularly for a surgeon, but it instantly caused her to bristle.
For a second it crossed her mind to lie. To act with a whole lot of bravado. But she was done with pretending to be something she was not. She was Lexi Robbins and she was proud of who she was.
‘I didn’t want them. Not to begin with. My ex—Jack told me to get them. He wore me down, kept telling me my flat chest did nothing for him and it made me feel as if I wasn’t worthy of our relationship.’
Anger flared instantly in Iain’s eyes. ‘What?’ He sat up, his voice incredulous. ‘Why on earth would he do that? You’re gorgeous, Lexi—and I’m sure you were absolutely perfect. What a complete—’
Her hand reached up and cut him off. ‘Iain. Don’t. I’ve spent a long time coming to terms with this. Jack never really loved me and it took a long time for me to understand that. Jack loved the idea of me. Who my parents were. The fact my name a
ttracted attention. The fact my name meant we got invited to every fancy party in town.’
Iain’s expletives filled the room. ‘Of all the low-down, monkey-brained—’
‘Stop that. Don’t insult monkeys. They’re highly intelligent creatures.’