Page 8 of Journey to You

“I wasn’t avoiding you.” He wanted to take hold of her hand. Instead, he thrust his into his pockets. “I’m sorry if you felt that way. I’m a busy man. We moved in the same social circles occasionally but I was usually schmoozing or courting business deals at those events to make chit chat. Forgive me?”

She didn’t buy it. He could see it in the arched eyebrows, the skepticism in her eyes. Tam was too smart for his lame excuses and he grasped at the first thing that popped into his head to divert her attention from the truth.

“Besides, Rich always monopolised you. A guy couldn’t get near the most beautiful woman in the room.”

To his horror, her eyes filled with pain. The sheen of tears hit him hard, like a slug to the gut, and he tugged her close, enveloping her in his arms in an instant.

“Hell, Tam, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bringing Rich up now, not when you’re trying to escape your grief.”

She braced against his chest, her palms splayed, and his body reacted in an instant, heat searing his veins as he cradled a soft, armful of woman.

She sniffled and he tightened his hold, rather than his first instinct to release her in the hope to put an instant dampener on his errant libido.

His hand skimmed her hair, thick and dark like molten molasses, soothing strokes designed to comfort. But hot on the heels of his awareness of her as a woman, a woman he’d loveto hold like this all night long, his palm tingled and his fingers itched to delve into the shiny, dark mass and get caught up in it.

“You okay?” He pulled away, needing to establish some distance between them rather than scare her away before they’d even started.

“Uh-huh.”

She managed a watery smile before straightening her shoulders and lifting her head in the classic coping pose he’d seen her exhibit many times before and his admiration shot up another few notches.

How she handled her grief after the initial shock of Rich’s heart attack, burying herself in the business side of things, sorting through legalities, only to approach him several months later for use ofAmbrosiato get her career back on track, had served to fuel his respect for this amazing woman.

Tamara was incredible and he wanted her with a staggering fierceness that clawed at him even now, when he should be protecting and soothing.

“I can see you’re still hurting, but if you ever want to talk about Rich, remember the good times, I’m here for you, okay?”

Maybe if she opened up to him, he could encourage her to get it all out of her system and move on. Highly altruistic, but he firmly believed it would do her the world of good.

To his surprise, she wrinkled her nose and he knew it had little to do with the pungent odours of diesel fumes, spices, and human sweat swirling around them.

“Honestly? I don’t want to talk about Richard. I’m done grieving.”

A spark of defiance lit her eyes, turning them from soft moss green to sizzling emerald in a second. “I want to enjoy this trip, then concentrate on my future.”

He’d never seen her like this: resolute, determined, a woman reborn.

He’d seen Tam the society wife, the perfect hostess, the astute businesswoman, the grieving widow, but never this defiant, and a part of him was glad. Releasing the past was cathartic, would help her to move on, and he really wanted her to do that this trip.

With him.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” he said, managing to sound sedate when he wanted to whoop for joy if she’d assigned Richard to her past.

Her answering smile sent another sizzle of heat through him and he clenched his hand to stop from reaching out and pulling her close.

Plenty of time for that.

Three

Tamara lay on her bed, stretched her arms overhead, and smiled.

The rocking motion of the train as it wound its way out of Delhi and the heady aroma of marigolds andmasala chai—the delicious tea fragrant with cardamoms, cloves and cinnamon—lulled her while making her want to jump up and twirl around from the sheer rush of it.

For the first time in years, she felt free. Free to do whatever she wanted, be whoever she chose, and it felt great; downright fantastic.

While she’d once loved Richard and had desperately craved the type of marriage her folks had, nothing came close to this exhilarating freedom.

She’d spent months playing the grieving widow after Richard had suffered a fatal heart attack, forced to submerge her humiliation, her bitterness, her pain.

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