Rebel's Bargain. Annie West

      Poppy spoke. ‘The car is straight ahead.’ There was nothing in her tone, neither stress nor sympathy. She might have been talking to a stranger.

      He hadn’t expected her to feel anything. He’d had her measure since the night five years ago when he’d discovered what she really was.

      Why did it matter that he’d been mistaken in the hospital, imagining he’d got under her skin? Why did it matter that he meant nothing to her?

       Yet it did.

      Because almost dying out there on the mountain, he’d faced the terrible truth that some part of him was still connected to her.

      The realisation was like salt poured on an open wound. A wound he’d believed healed. His gut churned with the force of his reaction as years of resentment came flooding free.

      Someone jostled them and his stick clattered to the ground. He reached out and found himself grasping soft cashmere and even softer hair. His fingers tightened.

      ‘That’s it, Orsino. Just one kiss!’ Around them the paparazzi pressed closer.

      ‘Can you stand while I reach for your stick?’ Poppy’s words were innocent enough but her ice-cool tone struck him again. To her he was an encumbrance till the divorce, a necessary responsibility. No more.

      Five years ago she’d made a fool of him. Even now, when he’d blackmailed her into dancing to his tune, he hadn’t dented her self-assurance, much less her emotions.

      Impotent fury spiked.

      He would get a reaction from her.

      Planting his feet more solidly, he released his hold and heard her breath sigh out. But before she could draw away he lifted his hand to the back of her head, to the silk tresses that moved as she jerked beneath his hold.

      Her tangy, sweet scent filled his nostrils.

      ‘Orsino?’ Her voice wobbled.

      Now that was a reaction.

      He looked down into wide eyes. The fiery burn in his belly flared and spread as he held her tight and slanted his mouth over hers.