Free The Night That Started It All by Anna Cleary

grieving
fiancée.’
    She drew in a breath. Her voice grew all throaty and she was dangerously close to another bout of the waterworks. ‘You know very well—I told you—I’m
not
a fiancée. Rémy and I broke up. I didn’t even like him in the end. I despised him. Why must you taunt me? Are you always so cold and judgemental towards women?’
    He flushed darkly. A muscle moved in his lean cheek. ‘I don’t believe so. That is not how I feel when I think of you. Far from it. But I’m naturally—surprised. You despised him, yet you have made this very long journey to say goodbye to him. And now to show such
—emotion
.’
    ‘Well, but it was all so overwhelming, I just … Wouldn’t
you
feel sad to say goodbye to someone you once loved?’ She turned to look at him.
    Through the smudged mascara her aquamarine gaze pierced Luc. An unpleasant knowledge solidified in his brain and skewered him straight through his gut. It hadn’t mattered whether or not she’d liked the bastard. She’d loved him.
    He said tightly, ‘I can’t imagine being sad about someonewho—violated the rules of civility. But I believe there are women who love certain men—whatever they do.’
    A flicker of pain disturbed the cool green sea of her irises. She made a small, defensive gesture that sent a pang through Luc. The moment they’d shared at her front door flooded back to him with sharp immediacy. What an insensitive fool he was to bring that up now. He was handling this so badly.
Dieu
, was he jealous of a dead man?
    ‘I doubt they do,’ she said quietly. ‘I think that’s a myth.’ The pride and earnestness in her voice touched him in some susceptible spot. ‘Women fall in love then out of it, but some remain trapped by circumstances. That has never applied to me. It
could
never.’ He watched her slim hands twist. The hat brim prevented him from seeing more than a section of cheek, an exquisite curve of chin.
    His blood stirred with a sharp and bittersweet desire. He closed his eyes. She was here now, overwhelmingly present. Not a dream, not a fantasy. Whether he wanted it or not, yearning had him in its grip.
    He sought for something to say to soften his former harshness. ‘
Très bon
. Men too can find themselves trapped. Passion is a dangerous thing. It can—drag you in.’ She lanced him with her clear green gaze and he caught his breath. ‘Not recommended for ones’ health.’
    ‘No,’ she agreed, lowering her lashes. ‘If only it were possible to consider your health at the time, no one would ever take the risk.’ She hesitated. ‘I—I … I’m sorry about the night you phoned. I know you meant to be kind.’
    ‘I woke you from your sleep?’ She nodded. He studied her face. ‘You were angry.’
    ‘Yes, well … It was a difficult time. I’m sorry.’
    ‘Don’t apologise. I phoned because I longed to hear your voice.’
    Shari looked sharply at him, her heart revving up. His eyeswere scorching hot and were having quite a dizzying effect. Could he really talk as if nothing had happened?
    This was no time for desire an hour after she’d farewelled Rémy. And hadn’t Luc made it clear what he thought of her? Did he assume she was ready to ride that thorny road with him again? Had he
forgotten
what had happened after their boathouse tryst?
    She started unsteadily, ‘I don’t know why you think I came all this way, Luc …’
    ‘Then tell me. Why did you?’ His dark eyes were compelling, alert, and at the same time so searingly sensual.
    ‘For Emilie, of course. To—honour her loss. Pay our family’s respects. And to—to acknowledge the love I once had for Rémy. Naturally.’
    His gaze flickered over her, searching, intent. Then he lifted his shoulders in a gentle gesture. ‘I always wonder when someone gives many reasons for doing something
grande
if they only really have the one. The one they wish to conceal from themselves.’
    Her heart made a maniacal skitter. What? Did he think it had to do