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"No."
"Then maybe you should do the sensible thing and forget him."
"That's not going to happen, and if you suggest that I start something up with Carter, need I remind you that you strenuously objected to me seeing him some years ago."
"And that still stands. But Manchester is a different story altogether. The guy has been gone for a week and has not reached out."
"I don't want to talk about it." She told him firmly. But it did not stop her from thinking about it.
*****
Across the ocean, Deacon stared at the glossy photos in fury. He had not called her, but that did not give her the damn right to be with some basketball player. There was no way she could deny that they were into something.
His hands clenched into fists as he stared at the guy, and the feeling of explosive jealousy was more than he could bear. He was touching her! Lunging up from the sofa, he started pacing the length of the room. She certainly had a lot of explaining to do.
Dragging his hands through his hair, he strode back to his laptop, where the glossy photo leaped out as if mocking him. Her hair was tumbling around her exquisite face, and the outfit, some sort of all-in-one deal, left one shoulder bare.
And the bastard was cupping her cheek as he leaned forward intimately. Did he kiss her? The question was tormenting him. Instead of forgetting about her, he missed her so much that it was like an ache inside his chest.
He could not sleep and would end up staring at the ceiling as his treacherous body yearns. He was going to wrap up his business here and go home. They were going to have a conversation, and he would get to the bottom of it.
*****
She had just poured the glass of wine and was about to sit around the dining table in the kitchen when she heard the doorbell. A frown touched her forehead as she wondered who would be visiting. It could not be David because he has the code for the door. Putting the wine down, she went to get the door.
A peek through the glass had her stumbling back, her heart racing. She had to take several deep breaths before disengaging the locks and pulling the door open. He stood there staring at her, his ink-black hair tousled either by the wind or his fingers.
The casual green cotton shirt was loose around his ash-gray dress pants, and he was carrying a case. Dropping it, he started to reach for her, but she stepped back and slammed the door shut behind them.
“I was about to sit down to dinner; you are welcome to join me.”
Shoving his hands into his pants pockets, he followed her into the cozy kitchen where the table was set for one.
“I already ate on the flight.”
“Suit yourself.” Turning away, she went to get a plate out of the warmer and brought it back to the table. “I have an excellent vintage Cabernet; I could pour you a glass.”
He nodded jerkily, only managing not to tell her he was not here to socialize.
She poured him a glass and brought it to the opposite side of the table where he stood. He watched as she pulled out her chair and sat.
The rich dark blue silk robe shifted, giving him a glimpse of her bare breasts, and he could feel the heat rising viciously. He had spent the entire flight in a fury at the photos he had seen and hated to admit that he was more upset with himself for feeling this way.
“How was your trip?”
“Productive.” He clipped, finally pulling out the chair and taking his seat. “You are very photogenic.” He added coldly.
“How – Oh.” She shook her head, a smile tugging at lips moist and colored by the wine. “We had no idea a reporter was so nearby.”
“Old boyfriend or new?”
Her tapered brows lifted. “Just a friend. Carter and I grew up in the same neighborhood.”
“You looked very cozy together.” He took a sip of the wine and felt his rioting emotions quiet.
“Carter loves to touch.”
“You were never intimate?”
