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After she had left the Georgian mansion, she walked aimlessly along the streets of London, too sad to care where she was going. At a train station, she bought a ticket, without even asking its destination. She just sat in the train, bloated mind, and eyes travelling on the passing view. Suddenly, she had arrived in France. But she had wanted to continue sitting and staring. Another ticket, another train and Nice came within reach.
As she crumbled on the hotel bed, her eyes started pouring out, on their own will. It had been a deep need to wash down all the welled emotions. It made her feel better. But not cured. She doubted she’d ever be.
She missed Mark. With an aching intensity. She felt hurt. So hurt. These conflicting emotions kept overturning in her. She knew she should get busy. And she did. In more ways than one.
There was an extensive hotel industry in Nice. Amy started her own HR consultancy and had already a couple clients among those hotels. More were coming. She was in negotiation with the biggest one in the area and very excited about it. She praised herself for choosing French while in secondary school.
She immersed herself in extremely hard work during the day. The nights were a bitter story, though. A corroding longing monopolized her entirely. She couldn’t stop remembering, desiring. She had only to close her eyes and the feel of Mark came back setting her skin ablaze. She could never get rid of the feel of their love-making. Looking back at it, she remembered how it drained her body and soul. She felt all her heart in it. And it hit her why. Because it was her heart in it. Her surrender had been expression of love. That was the reason why she had such a maddening sense of fulfilment in each of those countless scorching nights. Her body had expressed her innermost emotions, those which had been there for longer than she cared to measure. Now she had to forget him. The question was: how?
It was Friday late afternoon. An early spring sun shone, much warmer than it’d be in London. Dressing a tank top and small shorts, her body was stretched on the chaise-longue in the garden. Her cinnamon silky curls spread over the back. Weekends were a difficult task. With no work and all that free time her mind drifted away to memories best avoided.
At sunset, the bell rang and she stood up lazily wondering who it might be, since she wasn’t expecting anyone. As she opened the door, her heart nearly stopped. Mark was there occupying the most of the door-frame.
The view of him deflagrated a bomb-shell of emotions splintering arousal, longing and sorrow at the totality of her cells. He stood there leaning one shoulder on the frame, folded strong arms, one leg crossed over the other. It seemed impossible but he seemed even more magnificent than she remembered. He was dressing a white tailored shirt without a tie, two buttons open and black trousers. She looked up at him for long seconds trying to figure out how he found her.
“I was at the management training in Mallorca when the detective called me to say where you were.” Mark’s feline eyes strolled over her revealing tank top, half covering her full breasts and her tiny shorts showing her long beautiful legs. His body reacted straight away to her.
Amy’s eyes were wide on him. “I see.”
“So I flew here in my private jet at once.” Only then did she see a backpack at his feet. “No welcoming for me, I infer.”
Still dumfounded, she stepped from the door and made way from him. He entered looking around appreciatively. “You have always had good taste for decoration, as the Georgian mansion well witnessed.” He said as he turned to her at the door and threw his backpack casually on the sofa.
She closed the door in slow absent movements without taking her attention from him. She walked into the sitting-room and their stares debated subjects no words could ever translate. His temptation stare intent on hers.
When the detective called him, an urgent haste dominated him. He had to see her. Immediately. It didn’t matter how she’d receive him. It didn’t matter it was wrong to hide her money from her. It didn’t matter the bloody seminar. He had just called his crew and jumped upon the plane, on a lame excuse to Travis and Susan.
Amy motioned for him to sit. “Coffee?”
He hadn’t come there for coffee, for god’s sake! To hell with small talk! “Yes, thanks.” He tried to imprint a polite tone to his reluctant voice. His glance followed her to the kitchen, observing her pert back side and it reverberated directly in his lower abdomen.
Amy took refuge in the small kitchen, making an almost failing attempt to get hold of herself. Her body was deaf to her command; it had a life of its own when it came to Mark. Her breath was irregular and her breasts were telling the whole story. She took a sweat set from the dryer and fumbled in over herself. It was wrinkled, but it’d have to do. As she walked to the sitting-room with a tray with coffee and cups, she avoided his dangerously tempting figure.
“You found me, so what?” She sat the farthest from him after she’d served his cup.
He looked at her as if it was the most obvious answer in the universe. “Take you home, where you belong, of course.”
She grimaced at his arrogance. “This is my home now. I have business to attend here.” She had business elsewhere too, but this information he’d not get from her.
His eyebrows arched in ironic surprise. “Investing your capital, I can see.”
She straightened her spine even more and her eyes narrowed. “A money that could have seen me through college without useless ‘agreements’!”
There wasn’t a flicker of shame in his countenance. “True enough. But were you mature for such?” He felt ashamed, yes. But he didn’t want her to see it. He had known he had to come clean about her situation long ago.
“It was up to me to decide, don’t you think so?”
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He opened his arms nonchalantly on the back of the sofa and his predator’s focus challenged her in so provocative a way that she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to shove him away of near her. “Tell me you regret it.” The ‘it’ was pronounced in a densely suggestive way; leaving no doubt he referred to their scorching moments.
His words evoked a whole bulk of memories that melted the very core of her. Regret? Goodness Gracious! No! The concept was alien to their story. To her. The sight of him now, arms stretched making his shirt glue to his broad muscular chest and six-packed belly brought to her mind a single word: more. It’d never be enough, would it?
Mark saw her blushing and didn’t need any other hint as to what went on in her head, which was a xerography of his own. And he couldn’t do anything about the very visible effects of his thoughts. As her eyes slid down his magnificent male body, they widened at that particular spot and the whole thing worsened.
Amy’s breath got caught in her throat as her body operated an entire network of reactions. She had to say something, anything, to dissipate that steamy cloud so heavy with meaning. “Alright, you have checked on me and may go back to your seminar.” She made it sound like an order, as she knew he disliked.
His eyes narrowed for a second, but the expression vanish and he fought for control over all the conflicting emotions running under his skin. “I expected you to invite me to overnight here, actually.” His voice was too velvety. “My crew need rest, you know.”
