Page 69 of Modern Romance January 2025 1-4

Lex ground his teeth as he remembered her matter-of-fact words. As if she had no regrets, no yearning for more.

Was it true? Had she found it easy to turn her back?

Ego whispered it wasn’t possible. Not whenhewas still mired in a tangle of frustrated desire.

Or maybe it wasn’t that at all. They lived in separate worlds these days. Perhaps she was just better at accepting that. Maybe her willpower and self-control were stronger than his now.

In recent years he’d grown used to getting his own way. From the little Portia had mentioned about her life after Cropley Hall, there’d been few chances for self-indulgence.

Whatever the reason, it had been a matter of pride that he stay away from her. He refused to pursue a woman who didn’t want to be pursued. Which was why he’d resolved not to come to London for the auction.

Except now business brought him to the UK. The reason he’d been at the auction house in the first place was because he’d been meeting researchers in Britain who sought a manufacturing partner for their breakthrough technology.

He turned into a familiar Mayfair street and stifled a grim smile.

Back in the UK again, his decision not to attend the auction in person had seemed ridiculous. He wasn’t here to see Portia. She’d be working in a back office. Since his trip coincided with the auction, it made sense to attend. It would be ludicrous to stay away.

He wouldn’t seek her out. He’d learnt as an unloved child to accept rejection and move on. If they met, well, they were both adults. She needn’t fear he’d try to weasel his way back into her life.

In fact, it would be good if theydidmeet. After the frustrating weeks he’d spent recently, there’d be some satisfaction in showing her he’d moved on.

A sarcastic inner voice disagreed but Lex shut it down. He’d attend the auction, secure the pieces he wanted and walk away.

Easy.

And it was. He was made flatteringly welcome and enjoyed a conversation with a collector he’d met previously, an American interested in more modern pieces but with some fascinating insights. The auction held no major surprises and Lex acquired the pieces he wanted.

He was considering accepting the American’s suggestion that they go for a drink when he felt his nape prickle and his pulse quicken.

Lex inhaled sharply and let his gaze rove the people still clustered, chatting.

Portia wore another skirt and jacket, this time in a deep colour somewhere between blue and purple.

Instantly every sense went on alert. There was a buzz in his ears and a quickening deep in his belly.

How did she do it? Look so alluring and at the same time so buttoned up? Was he the only one aware of her incredible sensual draw? It seemed impossible.

His gaze ate her up. The sweet curves and shapely legs. The way the deep colour of her clothes complemented her blonde hair and dark eyes. The contrast with her porcelain skin, her cheeks blush warm and—

Lex frowned, reading tiredness around eyes that looked bruised.

He didn’t owe her sympathy after she’d pushed him away. He’d had his own share of sleepless nights, because of her.

But his chagrin and frustration melted as he really took her in, her body taut as she searched the crowd. She looked...fragile.

Then her gaze met his and he felt that familiar wallop of sensation, like a fist to the chest.

Like homecoming.

Rubbish. They’d once known each other well, that was all. She was, he realised abruptly, the person who’d known him longest. His mother and her uncle were dead and he wasn’t in contact with anyone else from childhood. That was all this was. The familiarity of a shared past.

Yet a warning bell jangled in his ears. He turned away, determined to accept the American’s invitation to a drink.

Except he heard himself say, ‘I’d enjoy that, but another time. I’ve just seen someone I need to talk with. Perhaps we’ll meet at the Copenhagen auction?’ He barely registered her response. ‘If you’ll excuse me?’

Portia wasn’t needed in the auction room. She’d come specifically to see him. Yet as he approached she stepped back, half turning as if to leave before halting, eyes fixed on her clasped hands.

Concern scraped his breastbone. ‘You wanted to see me, Portia?’

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