4

Freya's first irrational thought was that he must know, and then she forced herself to calm down. There was no way Travis would be calling her up sounding so blasé if he knew. She needed to get rid of him, though—fast. And then think.

“Look...it’s nice to hear from you, but I’m quite busy at the moment…”

Travis’ voice took on a cool edge again. “You’re not curious as to why I’ve contacted you?”

That sliver of fear snaked down Freya’s spine again as an image of her adorable dark-haired son came into her mind’s eye.

“I...well...I guess I am.” She couldn’t have sounded less enthusiastic.

Travis’ voice was almost arctic now. “I was going to offer you a position with Carson Motors. The research you’re currently conducting is exactly in the area we want to develop.”

Sheer blind panic gripped Freya's innards at his words. Her tone frigid, she said, “I’m afraid that’s impossible. I’m committed to working on behalf of the university.”

Silence for a few taut seconds and then Travis responded with a terse, “I see.”

Freya could tell that Travis had expected her to drop at his feet in a swoon of gratitude, even just at the offer of a job, if nothing more personal. It was the effect he had on most women. He hadn’t changed. In spite of what had happened between them.

Panic galvanised Freya, so that Travis’ offer of a job barely impinged on her consciousness. “Look, I really am quite busy. If you don’t mind...?” she told him,

“You’re not even interested in discussing this?”

Freya recalled the bile that had risen within her when Travis had made his uninterest in her all too clear and bit out curtly, “No, I’m not interested. Goodbye, Mr Carson,”

__________

Goodbye, Mr Carson, and this from a woman he knew intimately.

Travis looked at the phone in his hand for a long moment. Not comprehending the fact that she had just hung up on him. Women did not hang up on him.

Travis put the phone down and his mouth firmed. But Freya Williams had never been like other women. She’d been different from the start. He felt restless and got up from his seat to pace over to the huge window that overlooked operations at his new base on the outskirts of Suncrest. But for once his attention wasn’t on operations.

He’d thought of her weeks ago, at his mother’s funeral. He thought of her more often than he liked to admit. Freya was the one who had taken him too close to the edge. They had shared more than just a brief sexual history.

He swung around and stared blankly into his huge office. Clearly she wanted nothing to do with him, and he should want to have nothing to do with her.

He should not have given in to the compulsion to reach out to her. He should steer well clear of Freya Williams and put her out of his mind. For good.

_________

“Ugh… I need to get myself a new car,” Freya muttered under her breath as she walked down the street.

Her car had been developing so many faults lately and needed constant repair. To the extent that she simply stopped using it. She was working on getting a new one, but she had other expenses to take care of as it wasn't easy being a single parent.

Just then, a silver limousine purred into the kerb several yards ahead of her, penetrating her reverie. She hadn't even noticed where she'd been walking. Looking up, she found herself in a quiet side-street. The rear door of the car swung open and Travis Carson stepped out onto the pavement, blocking her path. “May I offer you a lift?”

Freya focused on him in unconcealed horror, eyes wide above her pale cheeks. “I'm... I'm not going anywhere------” she stammered.

“You're simply loitering?” Travis gibed.

“... That I would need a lift,” she completed jerkily. “I don't understand. Why are you here? How did you know where I was?”

A beautifully shaped brown hand moved deprecatingly.

“How?” she persisted.

“I had you followed.”

Oxygen locked in her throat. “What?”

A car pulled up behind the limousine, two security men speedily emerging. Like efficient watchdogs, one of them took up a stance to Travis’ rear, the other backing across the street for a better vantage point. For Freya, there was an unreality to the scene. She was reminded of how vastly different a world she had inhabited over the past six years.

“Why would you want to do that?” she whispered tautly.

Black spiky lashes lowered over glittering green eyes. “Perhaps I wanted to catch up on old times. I don't know. You tell me,” he invited softly. “Impulse? Do you think that is a possibility?”

Involuntarily she backed towards the railings behind her. “You're not an impulsive person.”

“Why are you trembling?” He moved soundlessly closer, and her shoulders met wrought iron in an effort to keep the space between them intact.

“You come up out of nowhere? You gave me one heck of a fright!”

“You used to have the love of a child for surprises.”

“You might not have noticed, but I'm not a child!”

It took courage to hurl the retort, but it was a mistake. Travis ran a raking, insolent appraisal over her, taking in the purple bull clip doing a haphazard task of holding up her silky hair, the lace-collared blouse and the tiered floral skirt cinched at her tiny waist with a belt. Modestly covered as she was, she still felt stripped.

He was so close now that she could have touched him. But she wouldn't raise her eyes above the level of his blue silk tie. He wore a dove-grey suit with an elegance few men could emulate. Superb tailoring outlined his lean length in the cloth of a civilised society. However, what she sensed in the atmosphere was far from civilised. It was nameless, frightening. A silent intimidation that clawed cruelly at her nerve-endings.

“We don't have anything to talk about after all this time.” The assurance left her bloodless lips in a rush, an answer to an unvoiced but understood demand. “I already told you I'm not interested in your offer,”

Negligently he raised a hand and a fingertip roamed with taunting slowness from her delicate collar bone where a tiny pulse was flickering wildly up to the taut curve of her full lower lip. Her skin was on fire, her entire body suddenly consumed by a heatwave.