The thaw had exposed the depth of her craving for him; how deep the hurt and pain that resided in her heart ran. It’d also reminded her why she’d had to end any hope of a connection with Alejandro.
There’s no heart there to sustain meaningful relationships.
Elise hadn’t known a handful of words could turn her world black until she’d heard them.
Then she’d known.
She’d been fooling herself by contemplating a dalliance with Alejandro. So she’d drawn a definite line through any possibility. She’d needed to, to preserve her own heart.
Except her heart had gone and broken all the same. On top of that, he’d taken her creativity away again. For four long months, she’d been unable to pick up her pencil. Even drawing him had been too much when all she could recall was his face that last time she’d seen him.
The urge to abandon her dream again had been strong, but the thought of losing both Alejandro and her art had been unbearable, so she’d soldiered on.
The first attempts had been shockingly abysmal. But she’d persisted, dredged pockets of time when Alejandro hadn’t been dominating her thoughts. Pockets where she’d dreamed he was standing before her, a hint of a smile on his face even as those mesmeric eyes bore into her—
‘Elise.’
Her head jerked up. The pencil dropped from her numb fingers. Vital air strangled in her lungs as she blinked hard, sure he was an apparition.
‘Alejandro?’
He crested the hill and towered over her, his eyes inscrutable as he stared down at her.
‘What—’ She stopped, looked around. Nothing gave her a clue, so she attempted again. ‘What are you doing here?’
His mouth firmed in a painfully familiar show of displeasure. ‘Hunting you down, of course. What else?’ His tone implied he wouldn’t otherwise be caught dead in the rolling mountains of the mid-west.
‘And why would you want to do that?’ she queried, her heart still attempting to jackhammer out of her chest. To give herself something to do besides stare with fervid attention at his enthralling face, his hard-packed—albeit leaner—body, she started gathering up her art supplies.
‘We have unfinished business.’
A gasp attempted to form. It died in her throat. ‘No. I’m sure we don’t.’ That last night in Kyoto had been definitive in every way. The reminder was effective in reducing her pulse from light speed to mere jet propelled.
She stood, zipped up her sketch case and fiercely resisted the urge to smooth her unruly hair. She’d let it grow in the last six months, her inclination to groom it, or herself, non-existent. The result was a wavy mess that hung halfway down her back, framing the denim shorts and a seriously unsexy plain T-shirt she’d picked up on one of her rare trips into Portland.
When his silence thickened, she risked a glance at Alejandro. To find his rapier-sharp gaze scouring her from head to toe.
‘You’ve lost weight.’
‘You didn’t come all this way to tell me that, I’m sure.’ She started down the hill.
He caught her arm. ‘We need to talk, Elise.’
‘I can’t imagine what you’d want to talk to me about.’ She tried to pull away. Admittedly she didn’t put much effort into it because the tingling warmth seeping into her felt embarrassingly good.
Alejandro’s hold firmed nevert
heless. ‘The man I met down there. Who is he?’ he scythed at her.
‘Steven? He owns the ranch.’
‘And?’
‘And nothing.’
His nostrils flared. ‘Elise.’
She tugged harder. He released her, but prowled closer when she stepped back. ‘What gives you the right to come here and question me? We said all we had to say in Kyoto, remember? Our business is over and done with.’