All she could do was stare at him, her heart thumping too fast, the blood rushing to her feet and her head swimming with the effort of processing the fact that Kit, the man who’d made her happier and more wretched than she’d ever imagined possible, the man with whom she’d had no contact for the last five years but about whom she’d been thinking pretty much non-stop for the last half an hour, was here.

As shocks to the system went this evening this one was definitely the worst.

Half wondering whether her imagination might not have conjured him up what with the unauthorised way it had been behaving this evening, Lily swallowed, then blinked. Hard. Twice. She gave herself a quick shake just for good measure, but he was still there, tall and broad and as jaw-droppingly good-looking as he’d ever been.

More so, actually, she thought, flicking her gaze over him to give her time to gather her scattered wits. He’d changed in the last five years. Physically at least. He seemed bigger, more imposing somehow. He was only, what, thirty-two, but his dark hair was flecked with grey at the temples, and there were faint lines bracketing his mouth and fanning out from the corners of his eyes.

He looked harder, more cynical than she remembered too. But then perhaps that wasn’t surprising since she must have made life pretty tricky for him following the breakdown of their relationship.

Not that either the way he looked or his attitude to life was in the slightest bit relevant to anything any more. No, she’d got over Kit long ago, and she was now totally immune to looks that were overly good and attitudes that were dangerously and possibly attractively edgy, whoever they belonged to.

Still, she could really have done without seeing him this evening. Or ever again, for that matter.

‘Happy New Year, Lily,’ said Kit, his warm breath making little white clouds in the cold night air while his deep voice rumbled right through her and fired a tiny spark of heat deep inside her.

Which she really didn’t need.

Damn.

Telling herself to stay cool and focused, and reminding herself that she was immune to voices as well as looks, Lily stamped out the heat and straightened her spine.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she asked, too on edge with everything that had happened tonight and too pissed off about the spark to bother about mollifying her words.

His eyebrows lifted at her bordering-on-rude tone. ‘Expecting someone else?’

‘Obviously.’

‘Who?’

‘The owner of this.’ She lifted the scarf and he glanced down at it, a slight frown creasing his forehead.

‘Nice,’ he murmured, as well he might seeing as how it was one hundred per cent cashmere and enticingly soft.

‘Very.’ And she wasn’t just talking about the scarf.

‘Is he on his way back?’

‘I doubt it.’ Presumably the return of the scarf by post was fine.

‘Then can I come in?’

‘Why?’

‘Well, for one thing it’s absolutely freezing out here,’ said Kit, turning the collar of his coat up and tugging it higher, ‘and for another I need to talk to you.’

‘About what?’ As far as she was aware they’d said all they had to say to each other years ago.

‘Let me in and I’ll tell you.’

‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea.’

‘Why not?’

Lily frowned. That was an excellent question indeed. Logically there was no reason not to let Kit in. They’d been divorced for years, and it wasn’t as if the experience had been particularly acrimonious or anything. It had been devastating and sad, of course, but in the end they’d both been so numbed by everything that had happened that they hadn’t had either the energy or the will to fight it out.

In fact, the overwhelming emotion she could remember was a sort of resigned relief, because by the time they’d signed the papers there’d been nothing left and nowhere else for their relationship to go.

So logically she ought to give him a wide smile, stand back, wave him in and listen to what he wanted to say.

But then there was that damn spark of heat that was stubbornly and infuriatingly refusing to die.

If anything, it was getting stronger the longer she looked into his eyes, and that alone was reason enough to send him on his way because a spark was how this whole thing had started in the first place, and she was not falling under Kit’s spell all over again.

Therefore he wasn’t coming in.

‘I’m sorry but I’m busy,’ she said firmly.

He shot her a sceptical look. ‘At half past midnight on New Year’s Day?’

‘Yes.’

‘Doing what?’

‘None of your business. Come back tomorrow.’ When she’d be long gone.

‘I’d rather get this over with now if you don’t mind.’

‘I do mind.’

‘Can’t we at least talk?’

Lily fought the urge to roll her eyes. Oh, the irony. Lack of communication was above all what had led to the breakdown of their marriage, and now he wanted to talk?

‘When were we ever able to talk?’ she asked with more than a hint of sarcasm.

As he contemplated her point, Kit sighed, then gave a brief nod. ‘That’s fair enough, I suppose. So how about you listening while I talk?’

‘I don’t remember that working either.’

‘Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t work now.’

Lily folded her arms and lifted her chin. ‘Doesn’t mean it would.’

Kit noted both, and with a scowl shoved his hands through his hair, clearly deciding now not to bother hiding his exasperation at her intransigence.

‘Look, Lily, it’s been five years,’ he said, sounding as if he was struggling to keep a grip on both his temper and his patience. ‘Are you really telling me you don’t think we can behave like rational, sensible adults about this?’

Rational and sensible? Hah. Reason and sense had never featured much in their relationship, and the clear implication that she was the one not being rational or sensible here seriously wound her up.

‘Oh, I’m sure I can,’ she said.

‘Well, I know I can,’ he said, his eyes glittering in the dark and taking on an intensity that made her breath go all skittery. ‘So why are you so against us having a conversation? Can you really not even manage that? Haven’t you changed at all?’

As the questions hit her one after the other, Lily reeled for a moment, stung at the accusation that she wasn’t capable of conversation, then had to concede that he might have a point about the whole having changed thing.

She had changed. She was nothing like the spontaneous, adventure-loving, but possibly a bit self-absorbed girl who didn’t have a clue how to handle what life was suddenly throwing at her she’d been at twenty-four. She was now responsible, successful and focused, and while she still made sure she had fun, the fun wasn’t quite as abandoned as it once had been. She was also way more mature than she had been back then, and way more grounded. And she could converse with the best of them.

And if she’d changed, then why wouldn’t Kit have changed too? After all, she’d read that he’d achieved his dream of owning a string of luxury hotels, which presumably meant that he’d overcome the very large obstacle she’d put in his way and had then set about putting all that nascent ambition she’d seen in him to good use.

From the other snippets of information she’d gleaned over the years—not that she’d specifically looked out for gossip about him or anything—she’d gathered that he was now regarded as something of a cool, ruthless operator in the business world, a man who was intuitive and decisive and rarely put a foot wrong. Given how keen he was to have this cosy little chat, he might even have learned how to communicate.

And as he said, it had been five years.

So maybe she was being a bit obstinate about this, and, dared she say it, childish?

Surely, despite their history, they could behave civilly towards each other? Surely they could talk, catch up even, without things descending into a trip down memory lane littered with bitter accusations, hurtful lashing out and pointless blame-laying?

Maybe she owed it to him to listen to what he wanted to say. In the dark days following their divorce she’d subjected herself to extensive self-analysis and had come to realise, among many other things, that she hadn’t listened much during the latter stage of their marriage, and if he was here, now, it must be important.

Besides, if she continued to refuse, Kit might think she was protesting just a bit too much, and there was no way she wanted him thinking she was affected in any way other than being in shock at his appearance on her doorstep.

Plus it was Arctic out here.

And then there was her curiosity over what had brought him here. Despite her best efforts to crush it that was just about eating her up alive, so all in all what choice did she have?

‘Fine,’ she muttered. ‘But it’s late and I have an early start, so you can have ten minutes and no more.’

‘Thanks.’

His expression relaxed and he shot her a quick, devastating grin that made her stomach flip, her heart skip a beat and that damn spark of heat flare up, all of which reminded her that she had to be careful. Very careful indeed.

Starting now, she thought, standing back and watching warily as he moved past her. She pulled back so that no part of him brushed against her, closed the door and tried not to think about the way the hallway she’d always considered rather spacious now felt like the size of a wardrobe and about as claustrophobic.

‘Go on through,’ she said, her voice annoyingly breathy. ‘The sitting room’s on your right.’

Following her instructions, Kit strode down the hall and into the sitting room. Lily put Nick’s scarf back on the hall table and then followed him, assuring herself with each step that really there was nothing to worry about. She’d got over her marriage and Kit years ago and it was just the shock of seeing him after all this time that was making her react so oddly, that was all.

After taking up a position by the fireplace about as far away from him as possible, she watched him unbutton his coat, shrug it off and drape it over the arm of the sofa. He straightened, thrust his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looked around.

While the fire crackled merrily in the grate, she saw him take in the deep indentations in the cushions of the sofa, the pair of cups on the low coffee table in front of the fire and then, beyond the open doors that divided the space, towards the back of the house, the dining table upon which sat the evidence of what had clearly been a romantic dinner for two.

Surveying the scene through Kit’s eyes, Lily knew what it looked like and was suddenly rather glad she hadn’t got round to tidying up.

She was especially glad she hadn’t done anything about putting out the dozens of flickering candles, turning up the low seductive lighting she’d chosen for this evening or switching off the slow, sexy music that drifted from the speakers embedded in the ceiling in the four corners of the room.

Why she was glad, though, was something she wasn’t particularly keen to dwell on.

‘You’ve been entertaining,’ Kit said in a tone that suggested he didn’t like it, which was tough because he’d given up the right to have an opinion about anything she did the minute he’d chosen to have a one-night stand with someone from the PR department of the hotel where he’d worked while their marriage lay in tatters.

Resisting the temptation to think about that, Lily allowed herself a slow, deliberately wistful smile. ‘Yes,’ she murmured softly, blissfully, as if dinner had turned into something much, much more.

Kit’s jaw tightened gratifyingly. ‘The man with the scarf?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Boyfriend?’

Nope. Sadly. ‘That,’ she said, ‘is none of your business.’

Kit tutted. ‘Goodness, aren’t we defensive?’

‘I prefer “private”,’ she said, deepening her smile as she vaguely wondered what was stopping her from just telling him the truth about Nick.

‘So I recall,’ he said, and in that instant an image flashed into her head of the two of them in his car, hidden from view, she’d thought, by trees.

They’d been driving back from a party in Kit’s convertible, and it had been end-of-the-summer hot. He’d said something that she hadn’t caught, and as she’d turned to ask him what he’d said she’d been hit by a bolt of desire so strong that it had wiped her head clean of thought. He’d looked so mouth-wateringly gorgeous, tanned and laughing, with the wind ruffling his hair, so confident and in control, that, totally riddled with lust, she’d ordered him to pull over.

Once he had, in a conveniently secluded spot, she’d practically leapt on him. Kit hadn’t complained, and with their mouths meeting and their hands grappling at relevant bits of clothing they’d been too desperate to notice the group of walkers heading along the path in their direction, and then too absorbed in each other to see them hurry straight past.

It was only when Lily lifted her head from the nook where his neck met his shoulder, eased herself off him and turned to face forwards, that she saw the backs of a few stragglers and realised what had just happened. After that mortifying experience, Lily had insisted on sex indoors.

Why Kit had had to bring it up now she had no idea, but she really wished he hadn’t because she could so do without the memory of it. Or the accompanying rush of heat that was sweeping through her.

She could definitely do without the faint knowing amusement with which he was looking at her that suggested he knew exactly what was going through her head.

Hmm. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing for him to believe she had a boyfriend. If her immunity to him wasn’t quite as strong as she’d always thought and if he was even thinking of continuing with this line of conversation, then a boyfriend seemed like an excellent deterrent/defence.

Lily shrugged away the images. ‘Well, it’s early days,’ she said with a coolness that came from who knew where. ‘With Nick and me, I mean. But yes, things are looking good.’

‘Great,’ he said, sounding as if he thought it anything but.

Snapping his gaze from hers, he glanced down at the glasses that were on the coffee table and frowned. ‘Are those ours?’

The crystal champagne flutes had once upon a time indeed been theirs, although now, technically, they were hers. They’d been a wedding present, and until tonight had spent the last five years encased in bubble wrap and stashed in her attic.

Lily wasn’t entirely sure why she’d brought them down and unwrapped them this evening, but she had, and that had been a mistake because every time she’d lifted hers to her mouth she’d been hit by a string of bittersweet memories of drinking champagne with Kit.

‘I have no idea,’ she said with a dismissive shrug because there was no way she was going to confess to any of that.

‘Looks like they are.’

‘Does it matter?’

‘It does if you’re drinking out of them with another man. I think I might be offended.’

She fought the urge to bristle and channelled her inner calm instead. ‘Well, you could have had them, so you should have thought about that when you displayed so little interest in how our things were divided up.’

He nodded and rubbed a hand along his jaw before shooting her a rueful smile. ‘I probably should have. Although from what I remember I was too devastated by the realisation that we were over to be worrying about who got what.’

Lily stared at him in astonishment, all pretence of cool detachment gone. ‘You were devastated?’

‘Of course I was.’ He said it as if she should have been able to tell, but by that point he’d been so cold, so distant, so damn unreadable that she hadn’t been able to work out what he’d been thinking. ‘Weren’t you?’

‘Oh, well, yes, I was in bits.’ Which she’d clearly done a pretty good job of hiding too, if he’d had to ask. ‘Although I do remember, above all, an overwhelming sense of relief.’

He nodded. ‘Yes, there was that too.’

Silence fell then, and all she could hear as they continued to look at each other was the ticking of the antique mahogany clock on the mantelpiece. And all she could suddenly—and irrationally—think was, had he really been as devastated as she’d been? Had they been too quick to divorce? Should they have tried harder? Should they have given it another shot?

The clock struck a quarter to one and she came to with a jolt.

No. They could have given their marriage a million different shots but it wouldn’t have made any difference because before divorce had ever been mentioned, before Kit’s one-night stand even, they’d totally lost the ability to communicate and their relationship had gone way beyond the point of no return.

With her throat beginning to ache with regret Lily quickly reined in her thoughts and pulled herself together. She swallowed hard and perched her bottom on the ledge of the built-in cupboard to the left of the fireplace.

Maybe they’d be better off focusing on the present and why Kit was here. And come to think of it...

‘How did you know where I lived?’ she asked, curious and now a bit suspicious because she’d moved a couple of times before buying this place, and the forwarding address of the flat she’d rented after their divorce had been out of date for years.

He blinked and gave his head a quick shake as if he too had been lost in thought. ‘I have for a while.’

‘That doesn’t answer the question.’

‘Doesn’t it?’

‘Have you been checking up on me?’

‘From time to time.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m not sure.’

Lily didn’t know what to make of that. ‘Am I supposed to be flattered?’

‘Not remotely.’

‘Good.’ Because she wasn’t. Not even a little bit. Truly. ‘Then why didn’t you just call?’ Presumably if he had her address he also had her phone number.

‘It’s late.’

‘Or email?’

‘Couldn’t wait.’

‘Sounds like you were desperate.’

‘You have no idea,’ he muttered.

‘You’re right. I don’t,’ she said loftily, as if she was way above desperation when it came to him.

At her tone, a small smile played at his mouth. ‘This is a nice place.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You’ve done well.’

She’d done more than well. Following their split she’d jacked in her marketing job and set up her own business, asking her sister—practically the only person she’d been able to trust—to run it with her.

At the time it had saved her. Been something of her own, something that had belonged to her and she to it, and she’d desperately needed it. That the two of them had been so successful had been unexpected, although of course greatly welcome.

‘I think so. So have you.’

Kit’s smile faded and he tilted his head as he fixed her with a look designed to make her feel uncomfortable. Which it did. ‘In spite of your best efforts to sabotage me.’

Lily inwardly cringed. When Kit had broken down and confessed to having a one-night stand she’d cut up his suits and scratched his car and then fired off an email to every one of the institutions he’d been planning to seek financial investment from, telling them in no uncertain terms exactly the sort of man they’d be backing. It must have made things difficult for a while to say the least.

‘Are you here for an apology?’ she asked, because although it seemed unlikely it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility, she supposed.

‘If I were would I get one?’

She bit her lip and nodded. ‘You might.’

His eyebrows rose. ‘Seriously?’

She gave a nonchalant shrug as if she hadn’t been racked with guilt for months afterwards. ‘Well, like you said it has been five years and maybe with hindsight I’ve realised that what I did was unforgivable.’

He held her gaze steadily and to her dismay she felt the beginnings of a blush. ‘I guess you did have some justification,’ he said. Then, ‘It was what I did that was the truly unforgivable thing.’

For several long moments, there was utter silence and the air began to thicken with a tension that Lily really didn’t want to explore.

It would be so easy to slip into a painful post-mortem of their marriage but what good would that do? While time had healed the wounds no amount of talk would wipe out the scars, and picking over the bones of their relationship was the last thing she wanted to do when she was feeling so out of sorts. Or ever, for that matter, because she’d done plenty of it at the time. She certainly wasn’t about to launch into a full confessional about how she’d come to acknowledge her role in the breakdown of their marriage.

Besides, presumably Kit was here for a reason, and one that in all likelihood didn’t involve raking up the past.

‘So why now, Kit?’ she asked. ‘After all this time? Why the urgency? Why are you here at nearly one in the morning on New Year’s Day?’

He rubbed a hand over his jaw and began to pace and she got the impression he was nervous, which was odd because nervousness wasn’t a state of mind she’d ever associated with him. Even when they’d waited for the results of the endless pregnancy tests she’d taken, when she’d been a bag of nerves, gnawing on her nails and practically quaking with hope and dread, he’d sat there stonily tense, looking more impatient than anything.

‘Could I get a drink?’ he said, suddenly stopping mid-pace and whipping round.

Lily snapped out of it and stood. ‘Sure. Sorry. What would you like?’

‘Whatever you’ve got. Something strong.’

She went to the drinks cabinet, took out a bottle of brandy and filled a glass. Then she handed it to him, watched as he knocked it back in one swallow and felt a flicker of alarm.

‘That bad, huh?’ she said with a small frown, her resolve to stay strong and aloof wobbling a bit at the realisation Kit wasn’t quite as in control of himself as she’d thought.

‘Pretty bad.’

‘Are you ill?’ she asked, and braced herself.

‘Not exactly,’ he muttered.

‘What does that mean?’

She held up the bottle in case he wanted another but he shook his head and set the glass down on the table. Then he straightened, shoved his hands through his hair and frowned down at a spot on the floor. ‘It’s complicated,’ he muttered.

Lily stashed the bottle back in the cupboard and stifled a sigh. It always was complicated with Kit, but then she wasn’t exactly Miss Simplicity herself. Together, not talking, not listening, not really knowing each other all that well, they hadn’t stood a chance.

‘OK, Kit,’ she said, moving to the sofa and hoping that this wasn’t going to be too traumatic and that she wasn’t going to regret not standing her ground and sending him away when she had the chance. ‘If you want to talk, then talk.’

THREE

If Kit had had any doubt that his troubles were bound up with his ex-wife, it vanished the second Lily sat down on the sofa.

On the drive over he’d told himself that he was wasting his time because why would going to see her work when everything else had failed? What exactly was he after? Forgiveness? Understanding? What made him think she’d grant him either now when she’d been so unforgiving and so un-understanding at the time?

She probably wouldn’t even be in, he’d thought. The Lily he’d known had been a party animal and tonight, after all, was one of the greatest party nights of the year.

But the soft golden light shining through a gap in the curtains drawn across the window at the front of the house had suggested she was at home. And that was when Kit had sent his driver home because, even though he was most definitely not looking forward to it, having come this far he wasn’t about to back out.

It was that thought, along with the strong sense that he was nearing the end of his tether, that had kept him standing there on her doorstep when every defensive bristling inch of her was telling him to go.

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