5

“Relax,” he cajoled, carelessly withdrawing his hand a split second before she jerked her head back in violent repudiation of the intimacy. Flames danced momentarily in his eyes and then a slow, brilliant smile curved his hard mouth. “I didn't intend to frighten you. Come... are we enemies?”

“I'm in r.. .rather a hurry,” she stammered.

“And you still don't want a lift? Fine. I'll walk along with you,” he responded smoothly. “Or we could get into the car and just drive around for a while... even sit in a traffic jam. Believe me, I'm in an unusually accommodating mood.”

“Why?” Valiantly moving away from the hard embrace of the railings, Freya straightened her shoulders. “What do you want?”

“Well, I don't expect you to do what we used to do in traffic jams.” Slumbrous dark eyes rested unrepentantly on the tide of hot colour spreading beneath her fair skin. “What do you think I might want? Surely, it's understandable that I should wish to satisfy a little natural curiosity?”

“What about?”

“About you. What else?” An ebony brow quirked. “Do you think I am standing here in the street for my own pleasure?”

Freya chewed indecisively at her lower lip. She could feel his temper rising.

There was a time when Travis would have said 'get in the car' and she would have leapt. He was smiling, but you couldn't trust Travis’ smiles. Travis could smile while he broke you in two with a handful of well-chosen words. Without speaking, she reached her decision and bypassed him.

Travis was exceptionally newsworthy and she could not afford to be seen with him, lest her past catch up with the present. A security man materialised at her elbow and opened the door of the limousine.

Ducking her head, she slid along the cream leather upholstery to the far corner. The door slammed on them, sealing them into claustrophobic privacy.

“Really, Freya... was that so difficult?” Travis murmured silkily. “Would you like a drink?”

Her throat was parched. She fought for her vanished poise. “Why not?”

Her palms smoothed nervously down over her skirt, rearranging the folds. Her skin prickled at his proximity as he bent forward to press open the built-in bar.

For the longest moment of her existence, the black springy depths of his hair were within reach of her fingers. The mingled aroma of some elusive lotion and that indefinable but oh, so familiar scent that was purely him assailed her defensively flared nostrils. As he straightened again, she was disturbingly conscious of the clean movement of rippling muscles beneath the expensive fabric that sheathed his broad shoulders. And an ache and an agony were reborn treacherously within her.

Her hands laced tightly together. In the unrelenting silence, she believed she could hear her own heartbeat, speeding and pounding out the evidence of her own betrayal. She was horrified by the sensual imagery that had briefly driven every other thought from her mind. If her memory was playing tricks on her, her body was no less eager to follow suit.

Travis extended her glass, retaining hold of it long enough to force her to look at him. It was a power-play, a very minor one on Travis’ terms but it made her feel controlled. She took several fast swallows of her drink. It hurt her tight throat and she hated the taste, but she didn't mind. She needed it.

“Feel better now?” Travis enquired lazily, lounging back with his brandy in an intrinsically graceful movement. “Do you live around here?”

“No,” she said hurriedly. “I only came here to see a friend”

“I see,” he nodded, “And you're married? That must be a source of great satisfaction to you.”

The ring on her wedding finger began to feel like a rope tightening round her vocal chords. She decided to overlook the sarcasm.

“When did you get married?”

“About five years ago.” She took another slug of her drink to fortify herself for the next round of whoppers. “Shortly after------” Her brain had already registered her error. “It was a whirlwind romance,” she proffered in a rush.

“It must have been,” he drawled. “Tell me about him.”

“It's all very pedestrian,” she muttered. “I'm sure you can't really be interested.”

"On the contrary,” Travis contradicted softly.” I am fascinated. Does your husband have a name?”

“Travis, I------”

“Oh, so you remember mine? An unsought compliment…”

She stared down into her glass. “Paul. He's called Paul.” Fighting the rigid tension threatening her, she managed a small laugh. “Honestly, you can't want to hear all this!”

“Indulge me,” Travis advised. “Are you happy?”

“Yes, of course I am.”

“You don't look very happy.”

“It doesn't always show,” she retorted in desperation.

“Children?” he prompted casually.

Freya froze, icicles sliding down her spine, and she could not prevent a sudden, darting, upward glance. “No, not yet.”

Travis was very still. Even in the grip of her own turmoil, she noticed that. And then without warning he smiled. “What were you doing with Bennet? I assume he was the ‘friend’ you came to visit,”

The question thrown at her out of context shook her. “I ... I ran into him while I was shopping,” she hesitated and, with a stroke of what seemed to her absolute brilliance, added, “My husband works for him.”

“You do seem to have enjoyed a day excessively full of coincidences.” Stunning golden eyes whipped over her flushed, heart-shaped face.“The unexpected is invariably the most entertaining, isn't it?”

She set down her glass. 'I r... really have to be going. It's been... lovely meeting you again.”

“I'm flattered you should think so,” Travis murmured expressionlessly. “What are you afraid of?”

“Afraid of?” she echoed unsteadily. “I'm not afraid of anything!” She took a deep, shuddering breath. "We have nothing to talk about.”

“I foresee a long day ahead of us,” Travis commented.

Freya bent her head.” I don't have to answer your questions,” she said tightly, struggling to keep a dismaying tremor out of her voice. Fight fire with fire. That was the only stance to take with Travis.

“Think of it as a small and somewhat belated piece of civility,” Travis advised. “Six years ago, you vanished into thin air. Without a reasonable explanation. I would like that explanation now.”

Stains of pink had burnished her cheeks. “In a nutshell, getting involved with you was the stupidest thing I ever did and I had to fix it,” she condemned.