‘Hush, Bry,’ Sally said quietly, reaching out and squeezing her friend’s shoulder to reassure her. ‘Oliver’s right. It’s fine.’
And it was fine. She was totally in control.
She’d always known that she wouldn’t be able to avoid Tom. And she didn’t want to.
What she wanted was to work and live in a community alongside him and not feel anything.
Bryony rubbed her fingers over her temples, visibly stressed, and Oliver glanced towards the door where Tom was leaning, listening to the exchange in silence, his handsome face devoid of expression.
He’d removed his leathers to reveal a pair of snugly fitting jeans and a black jumper that simply accentuated his masculine looks.
He looked dark and dangerous and just about as sexy as it was possible for a man to be.
‘I can’t understand why you use the motorbike in winter.’ Oliver’s tone was mild. ‘It’s freezing out there and it worries Mum.’
‘I’ve been worrying Mum since I was able to walk,’ Tom drawled, strolling to the fridge and helping himself to a bottle of beer. ‘And I like the fresh air. Good evening, Bryony.’
Ignoring the irony in his tone, Bryony glared at him and Oliver sighed.
‘You’re destroying the atmosphere of my dinner party,’ he said mildly. ‘Sort it out, bro, or we’ll all get indigestion.’
‘I intend to sort it out.’ Tom pushed the fridge door shut, his eyes on Sally. ‘So what do you say, Sally? Can we work together and socialize together without creating an atmosphere?’
Sally tensed, her fingers gripping the stem of her wineglass so tightly that it was in danger of snapping.
He stepped towards her, his gaze only for her. ‘My sister thinks you should hit me. So do it, Sally.’
She felt smothered by his closeness, by his overwhelming masculinity. She took a deep breath and then wished she hadn’t because his tantalizing male smell filled her head and clouded her senses. She had only to lift a hand to touch him but she kept both hands firmly by her sides and stared at the floor.
She decided to let him speak. If she let him speak then he’d leave her alone.
‘I don’t want to hit you.’
‘You should. It would make Bryony feel better. And stop looking at the floor.’ Tom lifted his hands and cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. ‘I want you to look at me.’
Startled by his touch, she stood without moving, staring into her past, feeling the brush of his fingers on her sensitized skin.
She’d loved this man so much.
‘I’m sorry, Sally.’ His voice softened with genuine regret. ‘Sorry for hurting you so badly.’
Those blue eyes drew her in and she struggled against the powerful sexual attraction that still existed between them.
With a monumental effort she broke the contact. First the emotional, then the physical.
Shutting herself down, she stepped backwards.
‘You did what you believed was right,’ she said lightly, managing what she hoped was a dignified smile. ‘And it’s in the past. Oliver’s right—we’ve all moved on. The future is what’s important now.’
And her future wasn’t going to feature this man.
She would never allow herself to be so vulnerable to hurt and pain again.
She lifted her chin and looked at Oliver. ‘When are we eating? I’m starving.’
There was a collective sigh of relief around the room and everyone started talking again.
Everyone except Tom.