‘It hadn’t exactly been one-way.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘And you looked...frightened.’
Aspen gave him a small smile. ‘I was that, all right. I’d never seen him in such a rage. I didn’t know what to do and I froze. It’s a horrible reaction I’ve never been able to shake when I’m truly petrified. That night, if he had found out that I instigated things with you after he’d told me I was expected to marry Chad, I thought...I thought...’
Cruz briefly closed his eyes. ‘You thought he’d disown you like he had your mother.’
The truth of what had happened that night was like a slap in the face.
‘It seems silly now, but...’
‘It was like history repeating itself. Your mother with the ski instructor...you with the lowly polo player.’
‘I didn’t think that, but he was so angry.’ She shuddered at the memory. ‘And I never wanted to leave the one place my mother loved so much. She used to talk about it all the time. Do you know that skewed horseshoe wedged between two roof beams in the stable?’
Cruz knew it. Old Charlie had grumbled about it whenever he was in a bad mood.
‘Apparently years ago Mum and Uncle Joe were playing hooky with a bunch of them and when she was losing she got in a terrible snit and aimed one at his head.’ Aspen laughed softly, as if she were remembering her mother recounting the story. ‘Unfortunately she was a terrible shot and released it too soon. It went shooting up towards the roof and somehow it got stuck. Which was lucky for my uncle because she obviously put her back into it.’ She smiled. ‘Every time I see it, it’s as if she’s still here with me.’
She looked at him.
‘That night I was so angry with my grandfather for ignoring my wishes that I went to the stable to talk to her. When you showed up and you weren’t dressed properly I... I can’t explain it rationally.’
Her eyes flitted away and then she seemed to force them back to his.
‘I had wanted to kiss you for so long and I wasn’t thinking clearly. I know you don’t want to hear this but I am sorry, Cruz. I should have stood up for you. But I was selfishly worried about myself and—’
Cruz cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. Lightly. ‘It’s okay. I remember his temper.’
Aspen gave him a wobbly smile. ‘I think I inherited that from him.’
He shook his head, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones. ‘You’re not scary when you’re angry. You’re beautiful.’
She made a noise somewhere between a snort and a cough and he couldn’t resist kissing her again, his lips lingering and sipping at hers.
This time the noise she made was one of pleasure, and Cruz slid his hand into her hair to hold her head steady, nudging the toolbox out of his way with his knee so that he could shift closer. She pressed into him and he wrapped his other hand around her waist, deepening the kiss. Slowly. Deliberately drawing out the sweet anticipation of it for both of them.
Aspen’s arms rose, linked around his neck and time passed. How much, he couldn’t have said.
Slowly she drew back, lifting her long lashes to reveal eyes glazed with passion. ‘Wow...’ she whispered.
Wow was right.
She moistened her lower lip, her eyes flitting from his, and he frowned. He could have sworn he saw a touch of apprehension in them. He nipped at her lower lip, kissed her again.
With a thousand questions pounding through his head—not least why she seemed nervous when it came to intimacy—he reluctantly ended the searing kiss and leant his forehead against hers. Their breaths mingled, hot and heavy.
‘I don’t hate you, Aspen,’ he said, answering her question of the previous night. Her bewitching green eyes returned to his and he found himself saying, ‘I have a formal dinner at the hotel tonight. Come with me.’
Aspen felt dazzled. By the conversation. By his sweet, tender kisses. By the piercing ache in her pelvis that made a mockery of her previous experiences with Chad. ‘I’d like that...’
* * *
And she did—right up until she found an emerald-green gown laid out on her bed next to black stiletto sandals still inside their box.
Standing stock-still in the centre of the spare room Aspen stared at the exquisite gown.
‘Don’t wear that. You look awful in it. Here. Put this on.’
Aspen shivered. Chad’s voice was so clear in her head he might as well have been standing beside her.
Cruz wasn’t Chad. She knew that. But somehow her stomach still felt cramped. Because the dress symbolised some sort of ownership. Some sort of control. And she knew she couldn’t give him that—not over her.