Once Touched, Never Forgotten - By Natasha Tate Page 0,21
muttered.
Amused, intrigued, and more interested in her explanation than he probably should be, he leaned forward and splayed his hands atop the middle of their small table. He remembered their last night together in her bed, the only time she’d allowed him in her small, intimate apartment. After finally gaining her trust enough for her to let him in, he’d felt like celebrating his triumph. He’d finally cleared the last hurdle of her defenses. He’d gone to sleep with a smile on his face, both of them spent and their damp limbs tangled in her twisted sheets.
Then something had spooked her. Something that had sent her scurrying away like a thief in the night.
“Are your reasons really so confidential that you still can’t tell me after all this time?” he asked.
She fidgeted beneath his stare, pleating and unpleating the linen napkin in her lap. “Why would you even care?”
“Call it a loose end.”
“A loose end?” A scowl flitted over her features and then just as quickly disappeared, piquing his curiosity even more.
“Would you prefer I call it something else?”
She pursed her lips in obvious frustration, and then lifted her defiant gaze to his. “The only reason you want to know is because I left you instead of the other way around. Had I waited until you returned from Paris, and given you another few weeks to break things off yourself, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
“I had no plans to break things off with you, Colette,” he corrected her. “You just assumed I did.”
“With good reason, given your past history,” she insisted.
“You were nothing like the lovers of my past.”
“Even so, you had no interest in anything beyond what we had.”
“I seem to remember you sharing that interest.”
“You’re right,” she admitted, though it didn’t sound like she believed her own assertion. “So why the inquisition, when we promised no questions?”
He lifted on shoulder in a deliberately casual shrug. “I’m curious.”
“No. You accuse me of wanting control, but you’re just as bad. Something doesn’t end the way you want it to, and you can’t leave it alone.” “Humor me.”
“Fine,” she said on a sharp exhale. “You want to know why I left? I left because I was no longer interested in a go-nowhere relationship.” Her voice dared him to deny her claim, to rewrite the history he’d replayed again and again. “I was bumping up against your internal relationship deadline, and I saw no need to postpone the inevitable.”
It stung more than he cared to admit, hearing how she thought of him and remembering the way she’d discarded him without a moment’s hesitation. Yes, they’d set up their relationship that way initially, but he’d been open to renegotiation. “I don’t have an internal relationship deadline,” he countered, and he heard the defensive note in his voice.
“No?” She laughed, and it was a brittle, dismissive sound. “Then tell me the name of even one woman who’s maintained your interest for longer than six months.”
He might have bought her edge of cynicism, might even have reacted to the note of accusation in her tone, had he not seen the infinitesimal flash of pain in her hazel eyes. But he did. He saw it. Felt it. And he grappled with the crazy impulse to haul her into his arms and promise never to hurt her again. Which made no sense, because he wasn’t the one who’d hurt her. She’d been the one to leave, the one to give up on them before he had a chance to convince her otherwise. “You left because you thought I’d get bored?”
“Of course! It was only a matter of time before you tired of me,” she said. “I had a month. Two, tops. Before someone new caught your interest.”
He stared at her for a long, silent moment before asking, “What makes you so sure?”
“You made me sure. Remember? You never once indicated that you wanted anything long-term, and I didn’t see the point of waiting around for the other shoe to drop.” “Colette—”
“No. You’re a Whitfield and I’m just a nobody who worked in your kitchen.”
“I never thought of you as a nobody.”
“But it’s the truth nonetheless.” She blew out a sigh, looking oddly deflated. “Look. I’ll never deny that I had a wonderful time for the five months I spent with you. But it wasn’t a real relationship.” Her mouth curved into a sad crescent filled with regret and apology. “What kind of fool would I have been to behave as if it were?”
Hearing her bald