she entered the last number he’d given her and held her breath, but the heavy wrought-iron gates remained as tight-locked as ever. She glanced back at the keypad, wondering if she should try again. A sudden loud clang told her she didn’t need to.
The gates creaked more as they slowly opened, complaining they were unused to the movement. Zara didn’t trust them to remain open for long. The DO NOT ENTER and TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED signs pretty much gave it away. She hurried back to her car, slithering on the wet path in her haste. She inhaled deeply and tried to move more calmly. She’d only just driven through the gap when the iron gates began to close again behind her, groaning as they locked back into their defensive position.
She switched her windscreen wipers onto a faster setting and put her headlights on full to try to see more clearly where she was going. Her breathing quickened as the wet gravel crunched beneath her tyres. Big, barren branches from the large trees overhead obscured the bruised, weeping sky. She inched her battered old car down the long driveway, taking the corner at the end. That was when she had her first glimpse of the large Georgian manor that was his home. With its two stories of imposing bricks and empty windows, it was a vast, gloomy obstruction at the end of the drive. The whole building was in darkness save a feeble light gleaming in only one low window.
Her heart pounded as she pulled up right in front of the mammoth front door. She’d been driving all day and couldn’t quite believe she was finally here. She’d tried to imagine this moment every day for the past year, envisaging all kinds of possible scenarios—maybe she’d bump into him on the street, or maybe they’d be at an event together and see each other across a room, or maybe he’d come to find her...
She’d really had no idea how it was going to happen or indeed if it ever actually would. But then Jasper had found her and basically got on his knees and begged her to visit the man to whom they both owed so much. Jasper’s tired appearance and desperation had surprised her. He didn’t know she needed no real encouragement to see the man who’d changed her life so drastically. She wanted to. Secretly she’d been aching to for months.
So now here she was with her shoes and jeans wet, her hair a straggly mess, and she was late...but she was here.
She grabbed her bag and got out of the car but, despite running to the door, only got more drenched. She no longer cared. She was too busy wondering how he’d react to seeing her again. Would he smile and laugh? Would he look concerned and caring? What would he say?
Unable to suppress the scared-but-excited shivers running up and down her spine, Zara rang the doorbell. She bit her lower lip but she couldn’t stop the shy smile from slipping across her face. They’d had such a short encounter, but it had changed everything in her life. She’d relived those precious moments every day since. And every day she’d longed for just a few more.
She didn’t hear any footsteps over the thumping of her own pulse. It seemed that the door just silently swung open without any warning. And then he was standing in the doorway frowning down at her.
Tomas Gallo.
All she could do was stare.
He was taller than she remembered, and leaner-looking in his faded black jeans and thin black sweater. His hair wasn’t now cut in that perfect, almost preppy, businessman’s style, instead it was longer, a jet-black unruly mess with a hint of curl that ended just above his collar. Despite his olive skin, he was pale. There was no Caribbean holiday tan on him now. Not that devilish smile either. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and the stubble emphasised the sharp edges and planes of his jaw. He looked harder, unhappier. But his eyes were the same—still that beautiful dark brown. The soulful kind of eyes that you could look into for ever, but still never understand the secrets they held. And there were definitely secrets. Even more of them.
He was so striking and so unforgettable. In that one second he stole her breath—and her heart—all over again.
‘What?’ he snapped as she stood there speechlessly staring at him.
Her shy offer of a smile froze.
‘How did you get in here?’ He glared down at her, clearly expecting an immediate answer.
She wasn’t able to give him one. She wasn’t able to speak at all. She watched him closely for a hint of recognition in his eyes, but there was only mistrust—and building anger.
‘I don’t know how you got inside the gates,’ he added roughly, ‘but the gardens haven’t been open to the public in almost a year.’
‘I’m not here to see the gardens,’ she finally managed to answer.
‘Then what are you doing here?’ He continued to glare at her. There was no recognition, no softness, no humanity.
The smile faded from her lips altogether. Awkwardly she stared back up at him. Jasper had said it was better to arrive unannounced. That he wouldn’t tell Tomas she was coming. But did he really not remember her?
She knew she’d changed, but it was only clothes, a new hairstyle...she didn’t think such superficial things would have made that much difference.
‘I don’t want whatever it is you’re selling.’ He began to shut the door.
That galvanised her into action. She’d not driven all day in such horrendous conditions to be given the brush-off in the first two seconds. In that way, she had changed.
‘I’m not here to sell you anything,’ she said, boldly stepping forward and blocking the doorway. ‘I’m here to help you.’
For a beat he looked stunned before snapping back, ‘I don’t need help.’
Defiantly she stood exactly where she was, uncaring that she was getting wet; she was not walking away from this just yet.
‘Yes, you do,’ she argued, taking another step forward right into the doorway. ‘Jasper sent me to you.’
Jasper had told her Tomas was still recovering from the accident. That he needed more help than he liked to admit. And while Tomas might not want her assistance, she owed him for more than he’d ever know and she wanted to pay him back for that.
He looked her over again, more slowly that time. There was still not the recognition in his expression that she’d expected, but as she watched something else emerged—something raw.
‘I don’t need or want your help,’ he said slowly, cynicism harsh in his eyes.
She tried not to be insulted, but she failed. ‘You don’t even know what I can do for you.’
‘I’m not interested in anything that you think you can do for me, sweetheart.’ A bitter smile curved his lips as he glanced over her again. He looked so thoroughly and slowly it was as if the rains had stripped her naked and he could see every tiny intimate detail of her body.
Embarrassed heat stormed through her as his gaze lingered on her breasts. She fought hard to control her reaction to his perusal but sensual awareness circled around her, fogging everything.
‘Excuse me?’ she choked, stunned at her own horrendous reaction.
‘What is it you’re offering?’ he asked. ‘A massage?’
‘You think I’m here to give you a massage?’ she asked, utterly astonished.
‘And other...services as required.’ Now he was looking at her mouth with a dark gleam in his eye.
She could feel herself blushing, she could almost see into his mind and knew exactly where he thought she might use her mouth on him...and the dreadful thing was, the truly dreadful thing was, she’d once dreamt about that. But she’d rather die before she admitted that—even to herself.
‘Does Jasper usually send women to provide these “services” for you?’ she asked huskily.
‘No.’ He frowned suddenly, that gleam vanishing, as if he too rejected the idea outright. ‘This is...unexpected, even for him.’
She