Still, she could really have done without seeing him this evening. Or ever again, for that matter.
‘Happy New Year, Lily,’ said Kit, his warm breath making little white clouds in the cold night air while his deep voice rumbled right through her and fired a tiny spark of heat deep inside her.
Which she really didn’t need.
Damn.
Telling herself to stay cool and focused, and reminding herself that she was immune to voices as well as looks, Lily stamped out the heat and straightened her spine.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she asked, too on edge with everything that had happened tonight and too pissed off about the spark to bother about mollifying her words.
His eyebrows lifted at her bordering-on-rude tone. ‘Expecting someone else?’
‘Obviously.’
‘Who?’
‘The owner of this.’ She lifted the scarf and he glanced down at it, a slight frown creasing his forehead.
‘Nice,’ he murmured, as well he might seeing as how it was one hundred per cent cashmere and enticingly soft.
‘Very.’ And she wasn’t just talking about the scarf.
‘Is he on his way back?’
‘I doubt it.’ Presumably the return of the scarf by post was fine.
‘Then can I come in?’
‘Why?’
‘Well, for one thing it’s absolutely freezing out here,’ said Kit, turning the collar of his coat up and tugging it higher, ‘and for another I need to talk to you.’
‘About what?’ As far as she was aware they’d said all they had to say to each other years ago.
‘Let me in and I’ll tell you.’
‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea.’
‘Why not?’
Lily frowned. That was an excellent question indeed. Logically there was no reason not to let Kit in. They’d been divorced for years, and it wasn’t as if the experience had been particularly acrimonious or anything. It had been devastating and sad, of course, but in the end they’d both been so numbed by everything that had happened that they hadn’t had either the energy or the will to fight it out.
In fact, the overwhelming emotion she could remember was a sort of resigned relief, because by the time they’d signed the papers there’d been nothing left and nowhere else for their relationship to go.
So logically she ought to give him a wide smile, stand back, wave him in and listen to what he wanted to say.
But then there was that damn spark of heat that was stubbornly and infuriatingly refusing to die.
If anything, it was getting stronger the longer she looked into his eyes, and that alone was reason enough to send him on his way because a spark was how this whole thing had started in the first place, and she was not falling under Kit’s spell all over again.
Therefore he wasn’t coming in.
‘I’m sorry but I’m busy,’ she said firmly.
He shot her a sceptical look. ‘At half past midnight on New Year’s Day?’
‘Yes.’