Once Touched, Never Forgotten - By Natasha Tate Page 0,16

that made all his previous experiences with women pale by comparison. When she hadn’t been busy crafting magic in his hotel’s kitchen they’d spent every minute together, exploring each others’ bodies, steeping themselves in erotic pleasure, gorging on her culinary creations and hiding away in various Whitfield properties across Europe.

And then he’d returned from Paris, determined to convince her to stay, only to find her gone. Vanished. He’d spent four days trying to contact her, leaving messages on her phone and in her email inbox. After she’d disconnected her number, he’d discovered that she’d paid her month’s rent in full, packed up and left with no forwarding address.

He had never been rejected before, and her unexpected departure had stunned the hell out of him. He’d told her to wait until he came home from Paris, to give them a chance to work things out. And yet she’d left anyway.

He hadn’t been prepared for the pain of it, for the searing, inescapable truth of her rejection. His family had never made any secret of their hatred for him, but he’d been able to discount their opinion. They could rot in hell for all he cared. He didn’t need them. But somehow, without even realizing it, he’d come to depend on Colette and the way she made him feel.

Finding her gone and knowing he wasn’t good enough for her had hurt like hell. But a couple of days later his pain had transformed to anger. Who did she think she was?

She was the one who’d made a mistake, rejecting him. He didn’t need her. He’d just been momentarily blinded. He didn’t need feelings that derailed him from the things that were important. Feelings that made him lose focus. So he’d moved on. He’d thrown himself back into work and the singles’ scene without looking back.

With a different woman on his arm every weekend, he’d had no time to even think about Colette. No time to nurse his wounded pride. But lately it had felt like he was merely going through the motions. Putting on a show and keeping up appearances. Catching any woman he wanted had become too predictable. Too boring. Even the thrill of the chase had begun to pall.

Until now.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and cursed his impulsive reaction to Colette’s unexpected reappearance in his life. Had he learned nothing?

He told himself he must be some sort of masochist to pursue her again. Why couldn’t he just leave well enough alone? Why couldn’t he maintain the professional distance he’d claimed to want?

He tried to tell himself it was about unfinished business, about proving to her that it was he who held the upper hand. She was simply a loose end, a question whose answer had eluded him for far too long. Once he figured her out, determined what made her tick, he’d be able to fit her into the neat little box he’d fashioned for her and never look back again.

Yes. That was it. She was a loose end that simply needed tying up. He was satisfying his curiosity and putting the past to rest. That was all.

Confident that he’d made sense of his own reactions, he strode back toward the stage to collect his briefcase.

He’d made it only halfway when the door slammed open, startling him and drawing his attention back to the entrance of the conference room.

Colette entered on a gust of outrage and flung the door shut behind her, her freckled skin flushed a distressed apricot hue and her hazel eyes snapping with autumn fire. She stalked toward him, her fury a living, breathing entity between them, and he instinctively braced for her attack.

She stopped short of slapping him, though her fists were knotted at her thighs and her glare could have melted glass. “Don’t you ever kiss me like that again,” she ground out, her nostrils flaring with the edict. “I’m over you. Done. Finished. And I don’t appreciate you acting like there’s something between us when there’s not.”

It had been so long since she’d scolded him, it made him want to storm her defenses just to remind her that her weapons wouldn’t work against him. Had she forgotten he always won? That they both always won? It had been too long since he’d gone head to head with Colette, too long since he’d blurred the battle lines with kisses and touches and soft murmured words.

Looking at her now, he felt the same rush of arousal he’d always felt, the same fevered need to