Her Ex, Her Future?. Louisa George
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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