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His husky query rumbled in her ear, and Isobella’s startled gaze flew to his.Damn!
‘I’ve noticed you staring at them quite a bit.’
She watched as he swept a hand down his neck, stroking the scars with the pads of his fingers. The rasp of his three-day growth against his palm was almost as enticing as the rasp in his voice.
She flushed. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.’
Alex smiled and shrugged, used to people’s interest. ‘They’re hard to miss.’
You could cover them up. Put on a tie.She checked her own scar was safely concealed by her polo-necked shirt before pulling her gaze from his and fixing it straight ahead on the seat in front. ‘It’s none of my business.’
‘Aren’t you at least curious?’
She was the least female woman he’d ever met. She didn’t wear jewellery or make-up, she didn’t gossip, and she definitely didn’t flirt. Add to that a god-awful fashion sense and she was the full disaster. And yet her appeal grew by the second.
She shook her head. The man showed his scars off to the world—that was way more evolved than she was going to get. She didn’t feel up to a discussion on a subject she found too emotionally fraught at the best of times. ‘It’s really none of my business.’
Alex regarded her for a few moments. ‘Come on,’ he cajoled, dropping his head closer to her ear. ‘There must be gossip at work about me.’
His voice rasped along her nerves. Well,duh ! Of course there was. But how could he be so…so casual about it? So unaffected?
‘Come on, Isobella. Tell me.’
‘There are different versions,’ she said awkwardly, dropping her gaze from the probing intensity of his blue eyes. But now she was looking at his throat again.
He chuckled. ‘That does sound interesting. Tell me the more outrageous ones.’
Isobella shrugged, feeling ridiculous even repeating them. His scars were obviously surgical in origin. ‘Knife fight and shark attack.’
Alex whistled. ‘Wow, Ihave led an exciting life.’
He smiled at her, and she felt the magnetic pull of his deep dimples and Aegean gaze. Isobella was intrigued despite herself. Maybe it was the nurse in her. Or maybe it was the scarred young woman still grappling with the horrors of her own story.
‘So what really happened?’ she asked softly.
Alex’s smile slipped. He absently stroked his neck, thinking back to the events that had changed the entire course of his life. All the things he’d taken for granted—his career, his voice, the woman he’d loved—had all been ripped away from him in a few short months.
The silence stretched between them, and Isobella worried that she’d overstepped a line. She better than anyone understood how difficult it was to tell some stories. His smile had disappeared and his blue eyes looked suddenly bleak.
‘I’m sorry—forgive me. Really…it is none of my business.’
‘I had throat cancer.’
There. He’d said it. He’d never told anyone the truth before. He knew it perpetuated the outrageous rumours, but he preferred them to having to relive the horror of it all. Quite why he was even telling her was a mystery.
Isobella shut her eyes briefly as her nursing background filled in all the gory details. She wanted to ask how—he was young and didn’t smoke—but all she could do was gasp.
‘Oh, Alex.’ She clutched her throat.
Alex found her compassion captivating. He stilled as the hushed anguish in her voice washed over him. The white noise of the cabin faded until there was just her and him. Her brown gaze, usually carefully schooled, radiated shock and empathy. The aloofness he so often saw in her eyes fell away. The hardness liquefied until he was staring into a bottomless pool of rich, dark molasses.
It was as if she knew what he’d been through. As if she’d been right there with him. Why was it that he felt more empathy from Isobella in this moment then he’d ever felt from the woman who was supposed to have loved him?
‘How long ago?’ she murmured
Alex hesitated. He’d already shared too much with almost a total stranger. ‘Ten years.’
Isobella felt the beginnings of a strange connection with him. She didn’t want to, but it was there anyway. She too had looked death in the face and conquered it. She too still bore the marks of her battle with mortality.
There was so much she wanted to ask him. About the surgery and whether he’d needed chemo, if he’d been given the all-clear, but his face was shuttered, an untouchable mask. It was as if he already regretted telling her what he had.
