The peak of his uniform hat shaded his forehead, but the slash of eyebrows above a considered glance from steely grey eyes moved through her like a distant bitter memory. It coiled in her stomach, shivered in her limbs and sent awareness from her breasts to her core.
Was she finally losing it? Had she conjured him up in her fevered brain? Because no way on earth could it be him. She was seeing things.
Shit. This was no time for hallucinations. Most certainly not the kind that involved Gabe Harrington. If it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t be in her current predicament.
She wanted to blame him entirely, but really she was the one who’d messed up. Big-time. Largely because she’d been unable to hold her stupid hormones in check. Instead of keeping her eye on the ball, she’d hooked up with a man who had given her the most devastatingly erotic week of her life—before taking what he really wanted.
The limo turned at traffic lights toward City Airport, cutting through the tunnel of unwanted memories. This was most definitely not a detour to her nuptials.
Panic started to edge along her spine. What the hell was happening?
She leaned farther forward, virtually poking her head through the opening. “You’d better stop this car right now.”
Still no reaction.
Turning, she reached for the door handle and tugged hard, but it wouldn’t budge. Was she really being kidnapped? Abducted? Had she somehow brought her fevered wishes into reality?
She tried the door again, pushed the button for the window release, but that was locked, too. Rapping on the windows to get attention from passers-by would be futile, since nobody noticed much of anything but their own business in London.
The limo had picked up speed and was nudging the outskirts of the airport.
Maddie searched around, looking for her phone. She had a vague memory of putting it in the bag which Laura, her bestie, had taken to the church for her. All she had was the stupid bouquet.
“Stop this bloody car,” she shouted. “Or I’ll have you up on charges.”
In the mirror she met his gaze again. Dark eyes glittered back at her, making the ominous feeling escalate.
“And just how do you intend on doing that, princess?”
Everything inside her went cold. It couldn’t be. Just couldn’t be. Yet that voice, trickling over her like warm rich chocolate, with just a hint of bad boy beneath the cultivated exterior, was unmistakable. As was the deep grey gaze, the one that had slid over every inch of her naked body while she’d lain depleted beneath him.
Hell.
She was definitely hallucinating. Had slipped into some kind of parallel universe. It was the only explanation. Or maybe she was dehydrated. People saw weird things when they were dehydrated.
It was difficult to breathe. All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the car’s interior. Brilliant. Add hyperventilating to the dehydration. This was exactly the time to lose her bloody mind.
When his focus turned to the road again, putting his profile in shadow, she could think a little straighter. There was no way it could be him. What the heck would he be doing driving a bridal car? He’d be brokering some deal in the Far East, or New York, or wherever else he could dip his talented fingers into some lucrative pie. She’d obviously superimposed Gabe’s face on the driver, heard his disembodied voice projected by her own imaginings. She even thought she could smell him. That masculine, citrusy cologne he favoured, mixed with the intoxicating scent of...him.
Briefly, she closed her eyes. Fire shot through every nerve ending, making her senses reel. Her heart squeezed so tightly she thought she might pass out.
Hell, but life was cruel, choosing this moment to make her remember one of the happiest yet most painful periods of her life.
Opening her eyes, she forced herself to focus. She had enough problems right now without resurrecting old wounds, especially when they had the power to slice her in half.
All that mattered was getting to the church. Except they were so far away from it now, and the car’s doors and windows were locked. And...
The limo came to an abrupt halt at a red light. His gaze lifted to hers again, and despite her determination to focus on the present, she was immediately transported back to heady nights, tangled limbs, hot kisses. Of lying naked with him alone on a yacht off the coast of Monaco, the sun beating down on their sated bodies. Of the trickle of champagne over her breasts, sinking into her navel, dripping between her opened legs. The feel of his hot, wet tongue licking along the Moët’s path, the thrust of his rigid cock inside her as she gave herself over to his adept skills...
“Your veil’s slipped, princess.”
Maddie jerked. The heavy sarcasm dumped her straight back into the middle of the dark pit she had fought to crawl out of.
It was him. Gabe Harrington.
“What?”
“Your veil,” he said and tapped his own head. “It’s skewed.”