His Cousin's Wife
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How she wished she could ignore him, move on, leave the building and pretend she hadn’t heard him, but David had already paused beside her.
‘Shea,’ Alex repeated, and she made herself turn slowly to face him.
She allowed her eyes to meet his again, and the pain it brought her was worse, so very much worse than she ever imagined it would be. It was an agony just to look at the long, tall, tanned length of him. He was standing so close she could have put out her hand and touched him...
How she’d loved him! And she couldn’t stop some part of. her reassessing him, adding the new details to her previous cache of graphic memories.
His hair, darker now, and much shorter than he used to wear it. But she remembered how thick and vital it was. She could almost feel it now. Hadn’t she run her fingers through it as she pulled his mouth back to hers?
His eyes, dark lashes now shielding the expression in their deep brown depths. They’d reminded her of smooth chocolate as he gazed down at her with passionate intensity.
His features, totally masculine, square-jawed and craggy. She knew deep creases crept into his cheeks, bracketing his mouth when he laughed.
And his lips. How his lips used to drive her crazy, bring her right to the very edge of her control. And beyond. So far beyond.
Shea forced herself to concentrate on the present. Alex Finlay now.
Yes, he’d changed. He did look older. But then so did she, she knew. Any vestige of youth that had remained when she’d last seen him had gone. The harder planes of his face made him look older than his thirty-two years.
Yet it wasn’t age so much, part of her reflected almost unemotionally. He had the look of a man who had been pushing himself too hard for too long. The bright light she remembered that sparkled in his brown eyes had gone, as though some inner part of him had died.
But she was being fanciful, surely. He was just as attractive, as tall, as broad, as potently masculine.
His light sweatshirt moulded his well-developed shoulders and his dark denim jeans were hugging his muscular thighs. Shea’s mouth went dry and she raised her eyes guiltily from that part of his body to find his gaze resting guardedly upon her.
‘How are you, Shea?’ he asked softly, his deep voice playing over her like a mellow melody, so effortlessly familiar, arousing her with horrifyingly well-remembered ease.
She shrugged in acknowledgement of his polite enquiry, and she found herself fighting an impulse to pat an imaginary escaped tendril of fair hair back into her loose chignon. Speech at that moment was an impossibility as her heartbeats thundered in her dry throat.
The studied expressionlessness on his face gave her no insight into his thoughts but she just as suddenly sensed that perhaps he may not have approached her had it not been for good manners and family propriety. It would have looked strange if he didn’t speak to his only cousin’s wife.
And what had she expected? she asked herself angrily. Did she think he’d go down on his knees and beg forgiveness? That his eyes would burn again with that same all-consuming passion?
Fantasy, Shea Finlay, she chided. Pure fantasy. Well, his so obvious feeling of antipathy was most definitely mutual. Her stony coldness told him so.
Yet inside she was a mass of contradictory sensations.
‘I had every intention of calling in to see Norah this afternoon,’ Alex was continuing evenly, ‘but I was held up at the house. I didn’t expect you’d be here at this meeting.’
‘I attend all of these meetings,’ she told him with a faint lift of her firm chin, guiltily shoving aside the knowledge that her attention tonight had rarely been on the business at hand. ‘I’m concerned about the future of the town.’
He nodded. ‘More people should be.’
David chose that moment to cough softly beside Shea, moving closer to her, his hand going to her elbow, and Alex’s eyes narrowed on the solicitous gesture.
‘This is David Aston.’ Shea reluctantly made the introductions. ‘He works for the major real estate agency here in town. David, meet Alex Finlay.’
David released her arm and held out his hand. ‘Shea tells me you’re her long lost cousin.’
Alex’s dark eyebrows rose imperiously as he slowly took David’s extended hand. ‘Cousins by marriage. We’re not blood relations.’
Something in his tone made David shift self-consciously and he turned back to Shea. ‘Well, shall we go?’
‘I’d like to talk to you, Shea,’ Alex said, pointedly ignoring the younger man, and Shea glanced irritatedly at the time.
‘It’s late.’
‘Not too late,’ he cut in determinedly. ‘I’ll drive you home.’
‘Shea came with me,’ David stated, obviously piqued by the turn of events.
‘I’m sure you won’t mind this time, mate.’ Alex produced his practiced, disarming smile, which Shea noticed didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘I want to see Norah so it seems I can save you the trouble of dropping Shea off. I go that way anyhow.’
David drew himself up to his full height, a few inches shorter than Alex, and was about to argue the point. Somehow, Shea knew he would come off second best to this older, so sure of himself Alex, and she put her hand apologetically on the young man’s arm.
‘It’s all right, David. I’ll go with Alex this time. But thank you for giving me a lift to the meeting.’
David’s chin jutted belligerently but he relented and, with a curt goodnight, he reminded Shea he would be seeing her tomorrow and walked away, leaving Shea with Alex.
‘Shall we go, too?’ he suggested, motioning for Shea to precede him to the door and she could only do as he bade her.
Appearances must be kept, she taunted herself disparagingly as she strode through the doorway and down the loose wooden stairs. And Alex was right behind her. She could feel him with every step she took.