Burned

He had choreographed fight scenes for movies and appeared in a few. Not that I’d ever seen him on the big screen. I’d been trying to get him out of my head, so the last thing I needed was to be looking at a magnified version.

These four city types didn’t look further than the suit.

They saw one man. They didn’t see the power.

They came at him simultaneously and he unleashed that power in a series of controlled movements that had two guys bent over and groaning in pain within seconds and the other two retreating in shock. It shouldn’t have surprised me. Hunter was respected, revered in some circles, as a strong, aggressive fighter and an inspirational instructor. But still, watching him in action made my stomach swoop.

I suddenly realized I was no longer being held.

‘Get in the car!’ His rough command penetrated my brain but I simply stared at him, frozen, because he was suggesting I go with him. For the first time in my life I understood the phrase ‘between the devil and the deep blue sea.’ And he wasn’t the sea.

My teeth were chattering and I heard him curse softly. ‘Rosie, get in the damn car. Move.’

I turned my head and saw the low black sports car parked at the side of the road with the door open. Was it really a step up to be trapped alone in a car with Hunter Black?

Without giving me more time to make the decisions, he grabbed my hand and hauled me the short distance, all but bundled me inside and closed the door.

I breathed in the smell of expensive leather and elite super car.

Apart from thinking that Hollywood obviously paid well, I wasn’t surprised.

Hunter had always been obsessed with power and speed. On my eighteenth birthday he’d given me a ride on the back of his motorcycle. I’d sat there, pressed against the power of the bike and the power of the man as we’d roared over London Bridge at two in the morning, realizing I’d never truly felt excitement before that moment. It was that night, right there wound around Hunter’s hard, muscular frame, that I’d discovered the difference between living and being alive. That was the night our relationship had changed. Before that we’d had hidden places. Secrets. By the time we woke up in the morning there were no secrets left.

After that everything had been a lot like that bike ride. Wild, exhilarating and dangerous.

I’d loved the fact that he knew me. Really knew me.

He slid into the car next to me and the doors locked with a reassuring clunk.

I hadn’t seen him since the day he’d walked out and now here we were, trapped together in this confined space. I was so aware of him I could hardly breathe. The scent, the power, the man. The air was thick with tension. I could have reached out and touched that strong, muscular thigh but instead I kept my hands clasped in my lap and my eyes straight ahead.

I’d assumed if I ever saw him again I wouldn’t feel a thing.

I hated being wrong.

I felt as if I’d been plugged into an electric socket. The air hummed and crackled with unbearable tension. He was insanely attractive, of course, but I knew that wasn’t what was happening here. It was something deeper. Something far more scary and uncontrollable.

I wondered if it was just me but then he turned his head at the same time I did and our eyes met. That brief exchange of glances was so intense I half expected to hear a crash of thunder.

His eyes were a dark velvet-black and the way he was looking at me told me he was feeling everything I was feeling. How could a single glance be so intimate?

My heart was pounding. I wanted to get out of the car so I could work out what all of this meant.

I wanted to get home.

I waited for him to ask me where I was living so he could drop me home, but he didn’t. Instead he pulled away and joined the flow of traffic. He didn’t say a word. No ‘How have you been?’ Or ‘I’m sorry I left.’

Just tense, pulsing silence so heavy and oppressive it was like being covered in a thick blanket. And awareness. That throbbing, skin-tingling awareness that only ever happened when I was with this man.

The restaurant was close to Fit and Physical, where I worked, overlooking the river. Usually I loved London at night. I loved the lights, the reflection of buildings on the water, the trees, the crush of people and the general air of excitement that comes from living in the capital. Tonight I barely looked at the city that was my home.

I heard a throaty growl and for a moment I thought it was the car and then realized it was him.

‘Why were you with him?’ His jaw was clenched, his tone savage and I glanced across at him, stunned by the depth of emotion in his voice because Hunter was the most controlled person I’d ever met. He was the original Mr. Cool. Not tonight. He was simmering with fury and right on the edge of control. I realized that the reason he hadn’t spoken was that he was angry.

‘Who I’m with is none of your business.’

‘Why would you choose to spend your evening with a guy who thinks you should be doing baking and book club?’

He’d heard that?

I’d thought embarrassment was a split dress at a wedding—ask my sister about that one—but I discovered this was far, far worse.

Let’s be honest. When a girl finally meets up with the guy who broke her heart, she wants everything to be perfect. She wants perfect hair, a perfect body, a perfect life. Most of all she wants to be in the perfect relationship so that he can see what he gave up. She doesn’t just want him to feel a sting of regret; she wants him contorted with it. She wants to smile and admit that breaking up with him was the best thing that ever happened because it put her on this path to lifestyle nirvana. The one thing she absolutely doesn’t want, especially in my case, is for him to have to rescue her.

I wanted to crawl onto the floor of his car and curl up there unnoticed.

I wanted to rewind time and spend the evening in a deep bubble bath with the latest issue of Cosmo. Most of all I didn’t want to feel this way. The truth was I dated men like Brian because I didn’t want to feel as if I’d been singed by wildfire.

‘You can drop me here and get back to your date. I’ll take the underground.’

‘Because walking down a dark alleyway alone at night wasn’t enough of a bad decision?’

He’d always been protective. He’d always tried to keep me from being hurt. The irony was that in the end he’d been the one who had hurt me.

‘I travel on the underground all the time.’

‘Not when you’re with me.’

Heat flooded through me. ‘I’m not with you.’

‘Right now you are.’ His tone was savage. ‘And unlike your useless date, I’m not leaving you.’

‘Why? Have you suddenly developed a conscience?’ I watched as two streaks of colour highlighted his cheekbones and knew I’d scored a point. ‘Look, I’ve never been one for reunions, so just stop the damn car and—’

‘What the hell were you doing going out with a guy like him in the first place? He’s not the right man for you.’

‘You don’t know anything about me.’

‘I know everything about you.’ His husky tone was deeply personal and I felt everything tighten inside me.

The chemistry between us had always been explosive.

I’d assumed it was because he was my first, but I was fast realizing his ranking had nothing to do with it.

I stole a glance at his profile, wondering what it was about him that made me feel this way. He had the same features as anyone else: eyes, mouth, nose—his nose had been broken a couple of times. But something about the way those features had been assembled on him just worked. He looked tough, like someone who could handle himself—probably because he could—and the combination of rugged good looks and a hard body was pretty irresistible.

I felt a pang of regret that I’d wasted the time I’d had with him. Instead of just enjoying myself and having fun, which was what I should have done at eighteen, I’d been clingy and needy. Part of me wished I’d met him a few years later. Then we would have set the world alight.

But it was too late for all of that.

‘Just drop me off and go back to the blonde.’

‘You don’t need to be jealous. She’s a colleague.’

‘I’m not jealous.’ But I was, and I hated that. I hated the fact that he made me feel that way after all this time. ‘Fuck you, Hunter.’

And I had, of course. If there was one thing we’d been good at, it was sex.

His knuckles were white on the wheel.

His head turned briefly and his gaze met mine again.

It was like the collision of two tectonic plates. I felt the tremor right through me from the top of my scalp to the soles of my feet and for a moment I was back there in the madness of it, my mind twisted by the ferocious sexual chemistry that only happened when we were together.

With a soft curse, he dragged his gaze from mine and shifted gears in a savage movement that made me flinch. ‘You saw those guys looking at you and yet you just walked out and let them follow you.’

‘I’m not responsible for their bad behaviour. A woman should be free to walk where she likes without fear of being accosted by losers.’

‘You put yourself in a position where those losers could have hurt you.’

‘So you’re saying it’s my fault they behaved badly?’

He clenched his jaw. ‘No, I’m not saying that.’

I kept my hands clasped in my lap because the craving to touch him was scarily strong. ‘I didn’t know they were behind me. I wasn’t paying attention. I was upset.’

‘Because that guy told you to learn to bake cakes?’

No, because I’d seen him. All I’d wanted to do was run.

I was a coward. I prided myself on being gutsy and strong and I’d fled like a rabbit being chased by a fox.

‘I didn’t see any point in prolonging the evening. I’ve had a long week.’

‘Did you run because of me?’

‘Oh, please....’ Now I was doing a Brian, leaving my sentences unfinished, but in my case it was because I didn’t want to tell the truth and I was a hopeless liar.

Hunter didn’t bother inserting the words I hadn’t spoken. He didn’t have to. He already knew the answer to that one. He’d always been able to read me. We probably could have had an entire conversation without opening our mouths.

Keeping his eyes fixed on the road, he drove past the Houses of Parliament up to Buckingham Palace and then drove through Hyde Park, headlights bouncing off trees and sending a shimmer of light across the Serpentine pond. I didn’t own a car. For a start, I didn’t have the money to run one, but in London there was no point. Why spend the whole day sitting in traffic?

Hunter reached into a pocket in the car and handed me a dressing pad. ‘Your head is bleeding.’

‘It’s nothing.’ A bit of blood was the least of my worries. I had bigger concerns, like the fact my heart was hammering. It didn’t feel normal to me. ‘I had the situation under control. You didn’t need to help out.’ I took the pad, ripped it open and pushed it against my forehead, wondering what else he carried in this car. I hoped he had a defibrillator, because I was pretty sure I was going to need one.

‘If I hadn’t arrived when I did, you’d be a crime statistic.’

‘I was doing just fine.’

‘Your balance was wrong. You need to watch the way you drive your leg. You’re straightening too soon and losing power. You need a ninety-degree angle. You need to bend more. And turn your hips.’

I was trying not to think about my hips. I was trying not to think about any part of my body, especially not the parts that were near my pelvis. I was worried I was about to catch fire.

For a moment I wondered if I was the only one feeling this way and then I saw his knuckles, white on the wheel, and realized he was struggling, too.

‘Why did you follow me?’

‘Because I knew you were upset. I wasn’t going to leave you alone in that situation.’

‘Why? You left me without a backward glance five years ago, so it’s a little late to develop a protective streak.’ I thought it was hypocritical of him to pretend he cared about my well-being when he’d once left me in a million pieces bleeding. Maybe that’s a little dramatic, but that’s how it felt.

His shoulders tensed and I realised that, far from seeming indifferent, I’d just revealed a wound the size of a continent.

CHAPTER THREE

Oh, crap.

The first thing our mother taught us was never to show a man you’re broken-hearted. I’d virtually dropped the pieces of mine in his lap.

‘What I mean is, I’ve learned to look after myself.’ I realized we were in Notting Hill and felt unnerved. ‘How do you know where I live?’

‘There are some things we need to talk about, but first I want to check that head of yours.’

I wanted to check my head, too. What had possessed me to climb into a car with Hunter Black? Obviously I had a concussion. I needed a health check, or at the very least a reality check.

‘We don’t have anything to talk about, but I do want to know how you have my address.’

He didn’t answer me. Instead he took a right and then a left into the leafy, tree-lined street where I lived with my sister.

Our apartment was on the top floor of a lovely brick building, with views over the rooftops toward Kensington Gardens. If you stood on tiptoe and stuck your head out of our bathroom window, you could see Prince Harry (only kidding, sadly). We were right in the middle of shops, restaurants and the market. I loved it. Of course, since Hayley and Nico got together—you probably felt the ground shake—I’d had it to myself quite a bit. I didn’t mind that. It meant I could practise in the living room without accidently kicking her or getting yelled at when I knocked a lamp off the table. Normally coming home soothed me. Tonight I was officially freaked out.

‘Good night, Hunter. Thanks for the lift.’

‘Is Hayley home?’

‘How do I know? And why do you care?’

‘You had a blow to the head. I’m not leaving you alone.’

‘I want you to leave me alone.’ I was fumbling with my seat belt, fingers slippery and shaky with nerves. Turned out I couldn’t even do that without help and I felt the warm strength of his hand as it covered mine.

His fingers were warm, strong and totally steady and it irritated me that he had so much control when I had none.

He leaned forward and his jaw, dark with stubble, was only inches from my eyes. I looked at the sensual curve of his lips and the urge to press my mouth against his was almost painful.

And then he looked at me and I knew he was fighting the same urge.

For a moment we sat there, the moment of intimacy disturbed by the flash of headlights from a passing car.

Mouth tight, he unclipped my seat belt. ‘You’re bleeding. I should have taken you to the E.R.’

‘It’s nothing.’ I was struggling to focus, but it had nothing to do with the blow to my head. There was something about being close to Hunter Black that made the most level-headed of women dizzy. ‘I’ll be fine. Good night. Great to catch up with you again after all this time. Have a nice life.’

I never was any good at delivering sarcasm, a fact confirmed by his smile. It was a slow, sexy, slightly exasperated smile that acknowledged everything that lay between us. I didn’t want to acknowledge it. I preferred to step over it with my eyes shut.

Desperate to get away from that smile, those shoulders, the man, I virtually scrambled out of his car and sprinted to the door.

‘Stairs or elevator?’ He was right behind me and I gritted my teeth. When I was eighteen, he’d left me at acceleration speeds that would have left his car standing, but now I couldn’t shake him off.

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