Page 11 of The Rules of Their Red-Hot Reunion

‘Did you do some research, find out that I am good friends with the Miya-Matthewses and apply for the job to establish St Urban to edge your way back into my life?’

Aisha snorted, amused. But then she realised he was being heart-attack serious. Seriously? ‘Why on earth would I be interested in doing that?’ she demanded, her tone terse.

‘Ten years ago, you left me because I was a poor sous chef, and couldn’t give you the life you wanted, the life I promised you, but I’m not poor any more. And I have contacts within the hospitality industry that would be valuable to you, people like the Tempest-Vanes, and other hoteliers all over the world. Hooking back up with me would be a smart move.’

Did he really believe she left him because they lived in a tiny flat and because money was tight? How could he think that? She would’ve lived in a tin shack with him, anywhere in the world, if he’d given her a little attention, some of his time. She opened her mouth but yanked the explanation back. The statute of clarifications had run out a long time ago.

‘So, I’m back for your cash and your contacts,’ Aisha mused. ‘Interesting.’

Seriously? Could he be any more arrogant if he tried? She didn’t think so.

Aisha felt the long roll of annoyance, the slow, acidic burn of anger. But because she knew disdain was far more effective than screaming, she sent him a below-zero smile full, she hoped, of pity. ‘Yes, of course, I’m here because of you. And only you. My being here has absolutely nothing to do with the fact I am Lintel & Lily’s best consultant, on track to be the youngest chief of operations ever appointed. Obviously, my studying my butt off to get my MBA and the years I spent in the field gaining experience in establishing hotels all over the world was all because I have this decade-long master plan of returning to the Cape and sliding back into your life!’

She patted his arm, happy to see his eyes widen in surprise. ‘You’re so clever for working that out, Kildare. How on earth did I manage to live this long without you and your asinine opinions?’

If he responded with a sarcastic comment, she’d kick him in the shins with the pointy end of her sexy shoes. She held her breath, waiting for his reaction. She expected either a blistering retort or maybe, if unicorns existed, a subdued and quiet apology...

What she did not expect was him to take two quick steps to reach her, standing so close Aisha could feel the heat of his body, see the faint scar bisecting his right eyebrow, a tiny birthmark on his right temple. His car lights fell on his face and his stubble held shades of brown and blond and his eyes were a deep, dark mysterious green, the colour of kelp beds off the Atlantic coast. She could see the passion in his eyes and felt her own bubbling inside. A part of her wanted to turn and run, but her feet were glued to the ground, her body demanding to know his again. She needed to taste him again, to run her hands through his hair, across his broad shoulders.

She shouldn’t be feeling this transfixed, so fiercely attracted, but she was. Dammit.

He opened his mouth to speak, but instead of forming words, his mouth covered hers in a hot, frustrated, kill-me-now kiss. She tried to remain unaffected, told her body to stay statue-still, but after ten seconds, maybe twenty, she sank against him, her defences crumbling under his skilled mouth.

He tasted like whisky, felt like home. His tongue twisted around hers and she was back in their apartment, nineteen again and in love, desperate for his hands to skim her body, his mouth to explore her skin. Her hands danced across his back, skimmed over the dip of his spine. She sighed at the hard layer of muscle under his clothes, the softness of his hair as it slid through her fingers.

God, the man could kiss, a heady combination of confidence and competence, desire, and a hint of desperation. Nobody, before or after, came close to the way he made her feel...all loose and lazy yet hyped and heady.

She loved what he did and hated the way he made her feel.

Aisha put her hands on his chest and pushed him away, desperate for some distance between them. He was too attractive, too magnetic, and, despite his being an utter ass a few minutes ago, she wanted him.

So, nothing much had changed in more than a decade, then.

Dammit.

She lifted her head, saw triumph and pure male satisfaction blazing in his eyes. ‘You still want me,’ he stated, sounding more than a little cocky.

The arrogant, presumptuous, conceited ass! She opened her mouth to blast him and saw him lift one, just one, supercilious eyebrow. He was expecting her to lose her temper, was goading her to do exactly that. He wanted her to be a shrew, to throw a slap, to lose her temper...to make a fool of herself.

She was damned if she would give him the satisfaction.

Right, one of them had to be the adult and she’d drawn the short straw. She straightened her spine and pushed back her shoulders.

When their eyes connected, she folded her arms across her chest and tipped her head to the side. ‘I’ve always known you are a determined, driven guy who likes getting your way, but tonight you’ve been the absolute worst version of yourself. I hope that’s an aberration and not who you are now. But understand this, Pasco...

‘You were talking nonsense earlier and you know it!’ She waited for a beat, making sure she had his full attention. ‘Hear me clearly, Kildare. Nothing you can do or say will stop me from working with Ro, from establishing St Urban as one of the best boutique hotels in the world. And if Ro wants a tasting restaurant on the premises, that’s what she will get, with or without your cooperation. We had a very unequal relationship in the past, but I’m not the same meek, mild, and easily led girl I was before. Do not be in any doubt about this...if you bite, I will bite back.’

By the end of her soliloquy, she was shaking, and Aisha hoped Pasco was too mad to notice. Gathering her wits, and her pride, she turned around and headed back to her car, slid behind the wheel, and slammed the door shut. Without looking at him, she executed a quick three-point turn and drove back up the road to St Urban.

Nothing to see here, folks. She’d only kissed, argued with, and lectured the only man she’d ever loved, the man she’d once promised to share her life with.

It had been, by anyone’s standards, a hell of a day.

Pasco owed Aisha an apology, a huge one.

He’d been way out of line last night and he felt like an utter ass. She’d been right to call him out and her cool lines, delivered so disdainfully, had cut through all his BS.

He had been arrogant in his dealings with her, and the high point of his idiocy had been suggesting she’d returned to the Cape to be with him. Even more annoying was his small wish that it were true.

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