***
What the hell was she doing?
She’d had the opportunity. When he’d first walked over to the bar, turning his back on the door, she’d had the perfect chance to run. He’d never have noticed her slipping out.
And now it was too late.
Because there he was, standing in front of her, just inside her comfort zone. She couldn’t break eye contact to save her life. She felt like prey, watched by a predator that was no less frightening for being so familiar.
He’d never hurt her. Never physically. But she remembered how emotionally wrecked she’d been by the aftermath of their breakup, and had no intention of opening herself up to that pain again.
“Hello, Bree.”
“Marc.” Her heart was beating too fast, her breathing rapid and shallow. If she wasn’t careful she was going
to start hyperventilating.
“You look good.”
She wasn’t sure how he could tell, considering his gaze had never left eye level. “Thanks. So do you.”
Actually, “good” was an understatement. His blond hair, now cut military-short, accentuated his bone structure in a way the soft curls of high school hadn’t managed. His eyes were more noticeable, the piercing blue framed by those thick dark lashes she’d always envied.
He’d filled out, too, his lanky teenage frame now tautly muscled and toned.
Bree gritted her teeth. All the memories, all the emotions were clamoring for attention, and she was a little
weak.
She looked around. No one was riding to her rescue. Instead, they were surrounded by people avidly notwatching their meeting. Probably hoping for fireworks or a blowout on a reality-TV scale. Where the hell was Tess when she needed her?
Bree took a step back. “I didn’t expect you to be here tonight. You didn’t RSVP.”
“Nope,” he said with a shrug. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it or not.”
“What changed your mind?”
Marc leaned forward. “You.”
(c) 2013, Davies, Carina Press
No comments:
Post a Comment