He had
been different since last night.
She
wasn’t usually in the habit of relying on men to fight her battles
for her but she had appreciated his intervention. It was the first
time that a man had come to her rescue and when he had punched
Mike, her heart had fluttered and she had looked at Marcus with new
eyes. She had noticed him the moment he had moved in next door to
her, had registered him as handsome, but she had never really taken
the time to look at him. The man had a body that could put models
to shame and she hadn’t stopped wondering what he did for a
profession since setting eyes on it. Was he a model? She hoped to
God he wasn’t a hand model because her own stupid choice of men had
gone and wrecked one of his lovely strong hands.
Amelia
stared at his injured one, her heart beating hard in her throat. He
had large hands, made for cupping and holding, or made for
fighting. He had landed a hefty punch on Mike, sending him down
with one blow, and for a brief moment she had feared he wasn’t
going to get back up. She had almost gone to him but then instinct
had kicked in and reminded her that Mike had been intent on
fighting Marcus. He must have been drunk. Only an idiot would pick
a fight with Marcus if they were sober, and Mike wasn’t that
stupid. He should have known he didn’t stand a chance.
Marcus
had a seriously cut physique, lithe muscles that radiated strength
and raw masculinity.
Once she
had noticed that he was topless, it had been difficult not to
stare. The few times that she had managed to peel her eyes off his
body and found the courage to meet his, he had been looking at her
with wide pupils darkening his amazing eyes, a sure sign of
desire.
So why
had he been so quick to snatch his hand away from hers?
Amelia
almost laughed at herself. Since when had she given a damn about
what men thought of her? Men were trouble. Mike had hammered that
nail so firmly into her head that she had got the message this
time. Men were something she could live without and that life would
certainly be a lot easier and less painful than hers had been up to
this point.
Her eyes
betrayed her and snuck back to Marcus. He sat opposite her with his
head tilted back and eyes on the sky. The lines of his defined jaw
led her gaze up to his square chin and sensual mouth and her pulse
picked up, jittery in its beat, when she licked her lips and
contemplated what kissing him would be like. He lowered his head,
their eyes met and then he looked away, an air of irritation about
him.
Her
fault?
She had
taken his hand last night when icing his knuckles and he hadn’t
reacted so coldly then. If anything, the desire in his eyes had
increased. What had happened between then and today? Had she said
or done something wrong? She could have sworn that she had read the
signals right and that Marcus liked her. Now she felt as though a
vast frigid ocean had opened between them and that she would drown
if she tried to traverse it to reach him.
She
wanted to.
Last
night had opened her eyes to the fact that there was a fantastic
man living next door to her and since then she had felt tied up in
knots, twisted inside out and back to front. She had never been
backwards about being forward before but something about Marcus
made her hesitate. It wasn’t just because he would think she was
rebounding. It was because he seemed like a nice guy, a cut above
gorgeous in looks and personality, and she didn’t want to screw
things up. He had been on her mind all day and she had tried to
think of a way to bump into him again so she could strike up a
conversation and get to know him better. When she had spotted him
outside their building, it had felt as though fate had brought them
together, but her nerve had failed at the sight of him standing
staring at the floor as though it was the most fascinating thing in
the world. He hadn’t heard her at first. It had taken her three
attempts before he had lifted his head and noticed her, and by then
her confidence had been shattered. Had he been thinking
too?
About
her?
Amelia
rolled her eyes at her thoughts. As if. The poor man was
sleep-deprived thanks to her terrible choice in men. He had
probably been spacing out just as she had said he was, unable to
function with only a few hours sleep. When he had gone back to his
own apartment half an hour after she had iced his left hand, she
hadn’t heard a peep out of him until gone six in the morning when
there had been some movement next door. She hadn’t been able to
sleep herself. Fear had kept her awake and she had watched one
movie after another in an attempt to push it to the back of her
mind. She was running on empty today, half asleep and feeling as
though what had been a dream was turning into a
nightmare.
Amelia
leaned one elbow on the metal table and stared at Marcus, studying
the nuances that crossed his handsome face as he watched the people
passing them by on the pavement. For all she knew, Marcus was Mr
Right for someone already. It wouldn’t surprise her. He had looks,
a fabulous body, was quick to defend women, and had proven himself
intelligent in the brief conversations they had shared. Her younger
sister would have taken one look at him, with his dark tousled hair
that caressed the nape of his neck and sometimes fell down to brush
his forehead, causing him to sweep his fingers through it to groom
it back, incredible pale blue eyes, and scorching hot body, and
declared him ‘smexy’. Smart and sexy apparently. Her mother would
have taken one look at him and told her that he was a keeper and
not to give up on him.
Someone
else was probably already keeping him.
Maybe
that was why he had taken his hand back so quickly.
Marcus
looked across the table at her and Amelia felt cold inside from the
emptiness in his eyes. Where had the nice Marcus gone? Had she
chased him away? A sense of impatience surrounded him, as though he
didn’t want to sit with her anymore, and he couldn’t hold her gaze
for more than a few seconds.
Amelia
mused that he was always detached from everyone and distant. She
shouldn’t be so surprised that he had withdrawn from
her.
“I
wouldn’t be any good for you,” he said, his deep voice as devoid of
emotion as his face, and Amelia held her hands up, desperate to
shift the course of conversation away from her feelings. “You are
better off keeping away from me.”
“I didn’t
mean it like that.” She had but he didn’t need to know that. Her
heart ached as he crushed it in her chest with just a glance and a
handful of words. She blushed, her face on fire, and stuttered,
trying to get an excuse into order.
She
couldn’t find the words as he stared at her, his expression
gradually turning from awkwardness towards anger, and she knew in
her heart that she couldn’t have been more wrong about
him.
His
appearance now was a harsh contrast to how he had looked just a few
minutes ago and last night. The heat that had touched his handsome
features then, warming them and giving her the impression that she
stood a chance with him, and the undeniable spark of desire that
had lit his eyes, made her feel as though she had met a different
person in that moment and not the real Marcus.
Perhaps
all her thoughts about him were wrong, even last night, and he was
right. She really didn’t know anything about him. Her white knight
might just be another black one in disguise and she really didn’t
need that on top of everything else. What would she do if Marcus
turned out to be another wrong choice when he looked so much like a
good man? It would certainly compound the growing notion inside her
that she was doomed to spend her life with a string of Mr Wrongs in
an impossible search for one Mr Right.
“Did I
thank you for last night?” Desperate times called for desperate
measures. All she could do now was try to deflect his attention
away from what she had done in some dire hope of easing the tension
mounting between them.
He
nodded. Silent treatment was it? He was the first man to do that to
her, but it wasn’t going to deter her. Once they were back on
steady ground, she would make her excuses and leave, and hopefully
things wouldn’t be too awkward between them whenever they met in
the hallways of their apartment building.
“Was your
coffee good?” Amelia looked at the white mug. He had barely touched
it. In fact, he hadn’t done or said much since sitting down with
her. He really didn’t want to be here. Had he only agreed to coffee
out of politeness?
Marcus
lifted his broad shoulders in a shrug. He had looked so good in
only his deep grey sweat pants, his bare upper body on display as a
midnight feast for her eyes. She tried to keep her focus on the
more pressing matters of her present situation and failed, ending
up picturing him as he had appeared last night instead. He had an
athletic physique, toned and powerful but not overly built. The
sort of body she would love to run her fingers over and had
fantasised about. The sweat pants had barely hidden the muscular
shape of his thighs and had rode low on his hips, revealing a V
line that had stirred all manner of wicked thoughts in her head, as
well as a treasure trail of dark hair that her lips and fingers
ached to follow. When he had punched Mike, his entire body had come
alive with movement, fascinating her. The way his muscles shifted
and moved with him, tensing or stretching beneath his pale skin,
had been mesmerising. It had taken her a moment to realise that
Mike was flat on his backside and that she should react to it in
some way other than gawping at Marcus.
When she
had taken him into her apartment and iced his knuckles, she had put
his body to memory, including the beautiful tattoo of angel wings
he had on his back. She hadn’t figured him as a tattoo type so the
swirling blue-grey elaborate wings that decorated his shoulder
blades had surprised her. She had wanted to ask him about them but
hadn’t been able to find her voice at the time, and asking him
about them now certainly wouldn’t help her cause, not when she
wanted to ask him why such an elementally masculine man had such
beautifully delicate tattoos. They seemed like a strange
choice.
Unless he
was gay.
Was that
a possibility?
Amelia’s
gaze darted to his face and her eyes widened when she caught him
staring at her chest. He quickly looked away, turning his right
cheek to her and taking in the people walking along the street,
lending her a view of his noble profile. Bi? He was gorgeous,
clearly looked after himself, and also kept to himself. Was that a
bad sign? Amelia frowned at her thoughts. She was overanalysing
things. Just because he was good looking and not interested in her
didn’t mean he was gay or involved in a relationship, or any of
those things that she wanted him to be so she would feel better
about his rejection.
He just
didn’t find her attractive.
He had
said it straight. Stay away.
Maybe she
would do just that.
Amelia
went to pick up her black leather handbag and then hesitated.
Flushed with bravery and unwilling to give up so easily, she fixed
Marcus with a hard look and was surprised when he turned his head
and looked at her, as though he had felt her staring.
“Is
something wrong?” Not a trace of a tremble in her voice. Her heart
pounded, adrenaline thundering in her veins, but she held her
ground. It was a horribly personal question to ask him but she had
to find out whether his reaction to her touch was because he didn’t
want her or because he did but felt he wasn’t good for her, as he
had said.
Marcus
stared at her for almost a full minute, the fading evening light
reflecting off the windows and his white shirt, illuminating his
face and chasing the shadows away. The edge of darkness his
expression had gained lifted to reveal something that wasn’t quite
warmth, but wasn’t icy cold either.
“Why?” A
slight frown pinched his black eyebrows together.
“You…
it’s just you seem more out of spirits than normal.”
He gave
her an odd look. It was the truth. He never seemed very happy and
now she couldn’t help wondering why. His warning to keep away from
him had brought back all the previous times she had seen him and
the distance he maintained between him and everyone in their
building, and now she wanted to know whether the man sitting
opposite her was more similar to her than she had thought
possible.
Did he go
from one bad experience to the next too?
He had to
have a reason for wanting to keep his distance from everyone and
not letting anyone in. Was he afraid of being hurt or feeling
something for someone? She feared that too, entered into
relationships believing that eventually they would end and she
would be hurt, but as much as she tried to live alone and be the
independent woman she wanted to be, she couldn’t help feeling
lonely and wanting to share her life with someone.
For a
brief moment, Marcus had seemed like someone she could do that
with, and this time she had felt it wouldn’t end in
tears.
He could
have been her Mr Right, but such a man wouldn’t have told her to
keep away from him. That hadn’t been in her dream of what would
happen today when she bumped into him. She hadn’t anticipated that
response at all. She couldn’t blame him though. Chatty old Mrs
McCartney next door had probably told him all about her poor choice
in men and he was telling her to keep away because he didn’t want
to get sucked into her miserable life.