41
“Excuse me,” Simon grated out, his dark eyes blazing a challenge that would have shriveled any last scrap of foolhardy courage. “This dance with Sara is mine.”
Kevin not only didn’t dispute the claim, he didn’t even check with Sara if she wanted to be passed over to Simon. He dropped her like a hot coal and back-tracked off the dance floor, gesturing for Simon to take her over. Which he did, with a speed that almost swept her off her feet. Pressed to another male body-a very different male body- Sara struggled against the flood of excitement it stirred, a rebellious sense of pride insisting that she shouldn’t surrender to it willy nilly.
“You didn’t ask for my permission, Simon,” she fired at him, her eyes defying his arrogance in assuming he could keep her wailing for hours and still do whatever he wanted with her.
“No, I didn’t.” He returned her challenge with blistering mockery. “You can reject me if you want to.”
She burned. From head to toe she burned with the need to be with him.
To deny it would be completely self-defeating. “Whatever. I hear business has been going well for you and Scott,” she said, moving to less contentious ground and being deliberately bland so he wouldn’t know her whole body was aquiver from being in contact with his again.
“Very well indeed,” he answered, his chin tilting belligerently, his green eyes blazing with self-determination.
“I guess that means your move to New York has not been in vain. That must give you a lot of satisfaction,” she ran on, suddenly hating the fact that she’d had no part in it.
“Yes,” he acknowledged, but the mockery was back, deriding this conversation, telling her it had no relevance.
It goaded her into demanding some recognition of her as a person, not just the object of a desire he could pick up and put down as he liked.
“Why don’t you ask me how I’ve been?”Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.
“Because I don’t want to know.” Ruthless truth. He only wanted to know her in the biblical sense.
She averted her gaze from the intensely raw penetration of his and writhed through the shame of blushing like a schoolgirl.
“It’s trivia, Sara, and it won’t change anything,” he stated harshly. “Besides, you made it very clear weeks ago that you didn’t want to hear from me anymore. I see no reason why I should care now,”
He was angry with her, Sara knew that, and he wanted her to know, “Well, my life might be trivia to you but it’s not trivia to me,” she flashed back at him, a fierce resentment surging at his dismissive attitude.
His eyes narrowed, weighing the strength of her attack and whether it was worth his while to make any concession to it. “You seem upset about it even though you made that choice. You ignored me for days. But fine, I’ll play along if you want. What do you want to tell me?” he demanded. “Give me the important highlights.”
There were none. Her job had provided triumphs-winning accounts against strong competition-she had many clients wanting her services, but they were hardly huge highlights that would make her shine for him. Her personal life was virtually a void, and she wasn’t about to admit that her experience with him had put her off other men.
“You just said now that you don’t care so why should I tell you anything,” she tossed out, not caring about hiding her true feelings anymore.
He looked startled, then bemused. His mouth burst into a wide, dazzling grin. Then he threw back his head and laughed, startling her with his wild amusement. He clasped her closer, whirling her around, his thighs driving them both across the dance floor in a flurry of steps that carved a path through the crowd of other dancers, out past the opened French doors and out of the room.
Sara realized that they were in an empty hallway, and before she could figure out what he was about to do, he opened one of the doors and pulled her into one of the rooms, shutting the door firmly behind them. The fact that they were now away from the crowd did nothing to lessen the heat Simon generated in her.
“I don’t remember saying anything funny,” she protested, feeling intensely vulnerable now that they weren’t completely surrounded by people.
Simon’s dark eyes twinkled amusement as he said, “I’ve missed you, Sara,” His chest heaved against her breasts and his slowly expelled breath tingled over her upturned face. “I’ve missed you so damn much…” he repeated, his deep voice lowered to a caressing murmur.
It was flattering to hear him admit that he missed her at least, but thinking of all the high-flying women he surely met while doing his business, and the one he’d been entertaining minutes ago, Sara muttered, “Well, I’m afraid that I can’t say that the feeling is mutual as I don’t share the sentiment,”
Simon shook his head, as though he knew that she was lying. He seemed about to say more, stopped, grimaced, then said, “You were staring at me at the church”
Simon winced inwardly at the accusing tone of his voice and the baldness of his statement, but he was still reeling from her rejection weeks ago, ignoring him and all his attempts to reach out to her, and her statement about not sharing the same sentiment, and he knew that she was lying. Her cheeks were flushed red from the air in the room…or something else? That thought had blood rushing southward with an unwelcome lack of control. Her eyes looked beautiful as ever. Her lips were full and soft, covered in red lipstick, and Simon told himself again that he’d never seen anyone so beguiling.
Sara welcomed the righteous indignation that flowed through her, and told herself it wasn’t adrenaline. But since when had righteous indignation made her shake? She reminded herself that Simon had said some really hurtful things to her and it didn’t matter that she was still very attracted to him. His attitude recently had shown her that he was very capable of hurting her, and she wasn’t going to let that sort of thing happen again.