She washed her hands and carefully checked her appearance. As she tried to smooth some loose tendrils of hair back into the French twist, her hands trembled. She dropped her arms and stared into the mirror.
Three years.
How long had she waited and hoped for him to return? To chase her and admit he’d fallen in love with her and wanted to stay?
Too long. Eventually, she grew up and grew strong. She realized he’d never come back, and she needed to build her own foundation.
Now he was back.
Miranda straightened her shoulders. It didn’t matter, of course. She’d walk right out of his restaurant tonight and never see him again. Only shock made her body seem so strangely out of control.
She swung open the door and started down the long hallway.
“God, you look good, Red.”
She froze, then turned slowly around and came face to face with her past. “Thanks. You haven’t changed a bit.”
He gave a soft laugh and moved forward. Waves of masculine energy emanated from his body, pulling her in. His gaze traveled over her face, her hair, and downward. “From someone else, I’d take that as a compliment. Coming from you, I’m a bit leery.”
Miranda struggled to remain cool and distant. “I’m sure my opinion won’t keep you up at night.”
A lazy grin curved his lips. “It’s not your opinion I’m worried about. There were always other things about you that kept me up at night.”
She jerked away as the intimate words flowed between them. “I’ve got to go.”
“Wait.” His hand shot out and closed around her upper arm. Shockwaves of heat ripped through her, and she stepped back, suddenly afraid of him. He seemed to sense her wariness, and allowed her the space. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“There’s nothing left to say.”
He winced. “I tried to contact you, you know. I mean, I wanted to contact you.”
“I see. Well, that makes up for everything, I guess. Thanks for clearing up the misunderstanding.”
He let out his breath. “Dammit, Miranda, please listen to me. I want to explain.”
She shook her head. “You’re amazing. You actually think after bumping into me by accident you can clear up the past in one tidy episode? I have news for you. It doesn’t matter.”
“You’re angry. I can understand that.”
She laughed. “I’m not angry. I’m not sad. I just don’t feel anything. I put what happened between us behind me, and have no need to dredge it back up.”
“Because of him?” Gavin jerked his thumb down the hallway. “The guy you’re with?”
Her mouth dropped open. “I don’t believe you’re asking me that question.”
“I don’t think he’s right for you,” he stated.
“You’re insane. I’m not staying around to hear more of your ranting. We have an opera to catch.”
This time he stopped her retreat by backing her up against the wall. He leaned in. The familiar scent of lemon and spice swarmed around her, and though her mind screamed she hated him, her body remembered him as a lover. Her nipples rose in unconscious demand against the black wool of her dress, and liquid heat pooled between her thighs. Sexual energy hummed and sizzled in the air.
“Let me go,” she whispered.
“It’s still there, Miranda.”
She took in the arrogant thrust of his jaw, the curve of his lower lip, the Roman nose that dominated his face. His lips stopped inches from hers, and his breath rushed warmly against her mouth.
“What do you want from me?” she asked. “Do you want to play more head games? I don’t need another roller coaster ride for excitement. Find another player.”
One thumb tipped her chin up. Something deep inside stirred back to life as she glimpsed a swirling array of emotions reflected in his features. Regret. Pain. Desire. “God forgive me for hurting you like I did,” he said.
Her voice trembled. “Let me go.”
“I made that mistake three years ago. I’m not about to make it again.”
“You arrogant, son of a—” she broke off and struggled for control. “I’m not interested in what you want anymore.”
The pad of his thumb dragged over her lower lip, and she caught the gleam of determination and resolve glimmering in his eyes. Her heart stopped. She held her breath and waited for him to say the words.
“I was going to leave you alone.” His lips twisted in a self-deprecating smile. “But now I can’t. Let me explain why I left.”
Seconds ticked by. The clatter of china and glasses rung through the air. Mercifully, numbness settled over her, as she stared at the man who had walked away without a good-bye. His explanation was too late.
He was too late.
Miranda removed his hand and pushed against his chest. He stepped back, and she moved around him. Silence blanketed the long hallway. Finally, she straightened her shoulders and spoke, her voice devoid of emotion.
“Good-bye, Gavin.”
She turned and walked away.
About time he stared at a woman’s back and dealt with dismissal. His overwhelming arrogance stole her breath and her sanity, turning her into the tired, stereotypical representation of a woman scorned. With each stride to her table, her wrath rose and stripped away all of the surface layers she’d worked so hard to re-build.
He probably believed a good explanation would make everything he’d done forgivable. Gavin always gained things too easily, whether it be women, sex, or love. How would it feel to have him finally experience real loss? Messy emotion?
The sweet ache to get even pulsed in her gut. Too bad there wasn’t a way to teach him a well-earned lesson in humility.
Miranda dragged in a breath and settled her composure. She refused to let the man ruin her evening. He’d ruined enough of her days to last a lifetime.
She left the restaurant and didn’t look back.
Chapter Two
The woman on stage moved toward the center. She flung her arms outward in a symbol of surrender, acceptance, power. Her voice, delicate as a spider’s web, skimmed over the room. She invited her audience to share her journey, to open their hearts and souls for this brief moment in time; to share the pain and pleasure of life. And, suddenly, the voice grew larger, booming and echoing off the walls as she challenged the Gods to one final battle. The music became her defender, swelling with majestic force, and the audience held their breath as they hoped. They knew the ending, and yet, a tiny voice whispered in their ears to wait. Perhaps, this time, love will conquer all. Even death.
The last note of her aria rang through the air as she fought her fate. For one instant, Miranda believed the woman had won. Then she collapsed as the curtain crashed to the floor.
Miranda sucked in a ragged breath. The thunderous applause of the audience comforted her as she brushed away the stray tear and remained seated in the darkness. Years ago, she vowed never to cry over life’s events, but allowed herself this one luxury. Weeping at the opera was entirely acceptable.
“Are you okay?”
She turned toward Andy with a smile. “I’m fine. I hope you weren’t too bored.”
Her friend gathered his cashmere coat as the lights went up. “It was fine,” he responded gruffly.
She wiggled herself into the sleeves of her lime green raincoat. “No matter how many times I see La Traviata, I always hope the ending will be different. Didn’t you think—” she stopped short when she caught the telltale dampness on her friend’s cheek. “Andy, you were crying.”
He gave a disgusted snort and turned his back. “Don’t be ridiculous. Real men don’t cry.”