that the doctors had had to inject anaesthetic into his spine to immobilise him and give his body a chance to recover. Every minute had felt like an hour, and he had vowed then that when he was back on his feet he’d never take it for granted again. Never waste a moment.
And yet this afternoon it had cost him almost as much effort to drag himself out of bed with Kate as it had to get out of the bed in the hospital four years ago. He had never imaginedthat he would actually choose to spend the best part of a day doing nothing when there was some of the best skiing in the world literally right outside the door.
Although they hadn’t exactly been doing nothing, he acknowledged with a sudden shaft of sharp desire, tightening his grip on the armful of logs and heading towards the house. After four years of near-celibacy it was as if he had discovered sex for the first time and was now experiencing it with the hungry, focused intensity of a teenage boy. But with more skill, thankfully. Never before had he lost himself so thoroughly in the simple act of sleeping with a woman, and God knew in the old days he had given himself enough opportunity.
The problem was he didn’t want to be lost. He had come here to find his way back.
Kicking the basement door open, he put the logs down and began stacking them in the neat woodpile against the wall. He needed to get back to Monaco. Back into training. Francine’s theory had so far failed to deliver, as had his own idea that sleeping with Kate Edwards again might help him to remember.
The reverse was true, he thought despairingly as the pulse of unease that had been beating at the back of his mind all afternoon seemed to get louder and more insistent. It was as if she had some mysterious hold on him, and every minute he spent with her in his arms dragged him deeper into blissful oblivion so that he forgot about things like getting back on the track and pushing himself again. In fact he forgot about everything that drove him. Everything that mattered.
Suddenly he froze, a log in his hand, then swore with quiet brutality as realisation slammed into him like an iron fist. Realisation of what else he had forgotten. Why he was uneasy.
Throwing the log down again, he headed for the stairs.
‘That smells good.’
Startled out of her indolent trance, Kate glanced up and feltherself blush—partly at being so deeply lost in thought that she hadn’t heard him come in, and partly because standing there in the doorway, with his hands dirty and his hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, he looked so outrageously sexy. She looked away again, turning her attention very pointedly to the saucepan.
‘So it should, with a store cupboard like this to cook from,’ she muttered shyly, stirring hard. ‘Where I come from “essentials” means a tin of baked beans and a packet of cheap chocolate digestives—not organic beef and a complete A-Z collection of freeze-dried herbs. Are you sure it’s OK to use all this stuff?’
‘I’ll replace it all.’
Something about his voice made her look up again, and her heart gave a little skip of foreboding as she noticed the dangerous blankness of his expression. There was a muscle jumping above his jaw.
‘Cristiano? Is everything all right?’
He detached himself from the doorway and came towards her, bringing with him a blast of ice-cold fresh air and pine resin. His eyes were the hard, opaque black of marble.
‘I just remembered something.’
Kate gave a little hiss of breath.
Cristiano smiled: a hollow, bitter smile. ‘Unfortunately I don’t mean that I’ve suddenly undergone a miraculous recovery. Just that I realised—’ He pushed a hand through his hair, and for a moment the cold, impassive mask slipped a little. ‘The first time we slept together…I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t use protection.’
The room darkened. Heat roared behind her eyes. Kate struggled to keep her breathing normal as Alexander’s face swam in
And yet this afternoon it had cost him almost as much effort to drag himself out of bed with Kate as it had to get out of the bed in the hospital four years ago. He had never imaginedthat he would actually choose to spend the best part of a day doing nothing when there was some of the best skiing in the world literally right outside the door.
Although they hadn’t exactly been doing nothing, he acknowledged with a sudden shaft of sharp desire, tightening his grip on the armful of logs and heading towards the house. After four years of near-celibacy it was as if he had discovered sex for the first time and was now experiencing it with the hungry, focused intensity of a teenage boy. But with more skill, thankfully. Never before had he lost himself so thoroughly in the simple act of sleeping with a woman, and God knew in the old days he had given himself enough opportunity.
The problem was he didn’t want to be lost. He had come here to find his way back.
Kicking the basement door open, he put the logs down and began stacking them in the neat woodpile against the wall. He needed to get back to Monaco. Back into training. Francine’s theory had so far failed to deliver, as had his own idea that sleeping with Kate Edwards again might help him to remember.
The reverse was true, he thought despairingly as the pulse of unease that had been beating at the back of his mind all afternoon seemed to get louder and more insistent. It was as if she had some mysterious hold on him, and every minute he spent with her in his arms dragged him deeper into blissful oblivion so that he forgot about things like getting back on the track and pushing himself again. In fact he forgot about everything that drove him. Everything that mattered.
Suddenly he froze, a log in his hand, then swore with quiet brutality as realisation slammed into him like an iron fist. Realisation of what else he had forgotten. Why he was uneasy.
Throwing the log down again, he headed for the stairs.
‘That smells good.’
Startled out of her indolent trance, Kate glanced up and feltherself blush—partly at being so deeply lost in thought that she hadn’t heard him come in, and partly because standing there in the doorway, with his hands dirty and his hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, he looked so outrageously sexy. She looked away again, turning her attention very pointedly to the saucepan.
‘So it should, with a store cupboard like this to cook from,’ she muttered shyly, stirring hard. ‘Where I come from “essentials” means a tin of baked beans and a packet of cheap chocolate digestives—not organic beef and a complete A-Z collection of freeze-dried herbs. Are you sure it’s OK to use all this stuff?’
‘I’ll replace it all.’
Something about his voice made her look up again, and her heart gave a little skip of foreboding as she noticed the dangerous blankness of his expression. There was a muscle jumping above his jaw.
‘Cristiano? Is everything all right?’
He detached himself from the doorway and came towards her, bringing with him a blast of ice-cold fresh air and pine resin. His eyes were the hard, opaque black of marble.
‘I just remembered something.’
Kate gave a little hiss of breath.
Cristiano smiled: a hollow, bitter smile. ‘Unfortunately I don’t mean that I’ve suddenly undergone a miraculous recovery. Just that I realised—’ He pushed a hand through his hair, and for a moment the cold, impassive mask slipped a little. ‘The first time we slept together…I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t use protection.’
The room darkened. Heat roared behind her eyes. Kate struggled to keep her breathing normal as Alexander’s face swam in
Similar Books
