Chapter2
MORNING CREPT OVER THE villa on the edge of the island slowly, bathing it gradually in gold and pink, until magic was in the air and for a moment—the smallest moment—she forgot about the man in the living room. But only a moment. After all, he’d been hovering on the periphery of her mind all night, so that every dream she had was suddenly filled with his deep, gruff voice.
Damn it, who was he and what was he doing here? This was her sanctuary, her time to hide away from the world and be alone, licking her wounds as she faced the potential that she might not be able to compete at the Internationals, her dreams completely fractured.
But she wouldn’t let that happen.
Resolutely, she pushed out of bed, careful not to test her ankle with any weight bearing. She dressed gingerly, changing into some black yoga pants and an oversized shirt that hung down over one shoulder, as she had every morning since arriving in Croatia. She couldn’t skate at the moment, but she could still workout, stretching and remaining limber, so that as soon as her doctors gave her the all-clear, she could hit the ice again. With any luck, that would only be in a week or two.
At the door to her room, she hesitated, sucking in a deep breath.
He might still be asleep; after all, it was late when he got in the night before. So? Should she rearrange her schedule to suit him? Of course not. This was her cousin’s house and she was his invited guest. Whoever this man was, she wasn’t about to let him have any impact whatsoever.
She took a perverse pleasure in imagining waking him from a deep slumber, but as she pushed out into the lounge room, it was to discover that he was already up. Not only awake, but wet, and just half-dressed from a swim. Her lips parted and her eyes clung to him as though she’d never seen a naked man before. She curled her hands more tightly around her crutches, needing the extra grip on reality.
“Good morning, sleepy head.”
She arched her brows at that. “It’s still early.”
He lifted his shoulders. “If you say so.”
“Aren’t you tired?” She blurted.
“No.”
She moved into the kitchen, limping on her crutches, conscious of his eyes on her the whole time. Aware of her awkwardness, she reached into the fridge to grab out the bottle of celery juice she’d pressed the day before, pouring some into a glass. “Want some?” She offered with a hint of tartness to her words.
“What is it?” He ran a towel over his hair then let it drape around his neck, his dark eyes following her, so she shivered in a way that made her nipples tingle against her shirt.
“Celery juice.”
He pulled a face. “I’ll stick to coffee.”
“I guess that explains why you don’t need sleep.”
He didn’t answer, but something shifted in the depths of his eyes, something dark and almost haunted, that made her wonder…but she didn’t want to wonder. She wanted to be alone. Didn’t she?
To prove to herself that was the case, she asked abruptly, “So…what time will you be leaving?”
“Leaving?”
“Yes. You know, that thing people do when they go away?”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
A frisson of excitement ran the length of her spine; she carefully concealed it, lifting the celery juice and forcing herself to down half of it, wincing as the ginger she’d added for a little more flavour had a peppery collision with her throat. “I don’t know what you’re doing here,” she said with a shrug, “but obviously we can’t both stay. And I was here first.”
“I see.”
“So, you should go.”
He moved closer, pausing only when he reached the kitchen bench, his eyes probing hers, lightly mocking.
“Or I could stay.”
Her heart pummeled her ribcage, exploding hard and fast. She gripped her glass more tightly, knuckles white. “Stay? Whatever for?”
More mockery, his eyes cynical and knowing. She shivered. “Why not?”