‘Yes, thanks, John,’ answered a deeply masculine voice from behind them, a voice that was unmistakable to Kelly. ‘I have everything I want,’ he added, ‘or need.’
Kelly had swung round with a gasp at the first sound of that voice. Jordan stood in the bedroom doorway, fortunately not in the bedroom she had put her things in!—and he was dressed only in a white towelling robe, his damp hair evidence of the fact that he must have been taking a shower when she had presumed he wasn’t really here.
‘Jordan…’ she breathed his name weakly.
He didn’t look at her, smiling at the manager. ‘Thanks for your concern, John. If we find we need anything we’ll give you a call.’ When the younger man had left Jordan finally turned icy grey eyes on Kelly, his gaze narrowing as he took in the tailored dark grey suit and crisp black blouse she wore, her hair short and gleaming, her make-up light, her huge bewildered eyes the only splash of colour in her pale face. ‘Kelly,’ he greeted curtly. ‘What the hell have you done to yourself?’ His look was scathing now. ‘You look a bloody mess!’
CHAPTER TWO
HER temper sparked into life. ‘After five years is that all you have to say?’
He shrugged, strolling back into the bedroom. ‘It happens to be the truth.’
Kelly followed him. ‘How do you expect me to look?’ she snapped her resentment. ‘My father is lying dangerously ill in hospital, I’m hardly likely to look full of the joys of spring.’
Jordan took brown trousers and a clean cream shirt out of the wardrobe, pausing to towel dry his hair. ‘I didn’t mean you look a mess, I meant the way you look is a mess.’
She flushed. ‘What do you mean by that?’
He threw the towel down on the bed, looking at her consideringly. ‘You’re twenty-three and dress like a woman ten years older. Where on earth did get those prudish clothes? You look as if you’re on your way to a funeral,’ he added dismissively.
The cruelty of his words cut into her like a knife. ‘My father is ill, I would hardly wear a flaming red dress,’ she choked.
‘Why not?’ He untied his robe, smiling as she hastily turned away. ‘I’m no different to look at than I was five years ago,’ he taunted. ‘And you used to like looking at my body then—you used to like touching it too.’ He chuckled at the anger she couldn’t hide. ‘And why can’t you wear a flaming red dress? I’m sure it would cheer your father up more than that outfit.’ He made no effort to hide his derision for her smart suit and blouse.
‘My father can’t see my “outfit” at the moment,’ she informed him bitterly. ‘He’s unconscious, and has been since the accident happened.’
Jordan nodded, pulling on the dark brown trousers and cream shirt, leaving several buttons undone on the latter, revealing the thick mat of hair on his chest, this too liberally sprinkled with grey. ‘I ascertained that much from the doctor.’
Kelly’s eyes widened. ‘You’ve been in touch with the hospital?’
He gave her a derisive look. ‘Obviously,’ he said dryly.
‘And?’
Jordan raised his eyebrows. ‘And I don’t suppose they told me any more than they told you.’
‘What did they tell you?’ she asked desperately.
He shrugged. ‘Not a lot. Although the coma is apparently lightening.’
‘It is?’ Kelly said eagerly, watching as he pulled on the jacket that matched his trousers, the material fitting tautly across his broad shoulders.
He brushed the damp thickness of his hair back from his face, the style impeccable, as was the rest of his appearance. ‘So they said,’ he nodded.
‘Then I must get back to the hospital. I only came back to wash and change.’
‘So I gathered.’ Jordan gave her a searching look. ‘You’ve been sitting with him day and night since the hospital discharged you—and I must say you look as if you have.’
‘Will you stop insulting me!’ To her shame tears flooded her eyes, their colour even a deeper navy than usual. ‘I—I can’t take it at the moment!’ The tears started to fall, and she began to sob, unable to stop crying once she began.
She felt Jordan take her into his arms. ‘This is long overdue,’ he muttered gruffly.
Kelly stiffened the instant he touched her, trying to break out of his embrace, finding that she wasn’t as immune to him as she had thought herself to be the last five years. Whenever she had thought about Jordan during that time, which even though she hated to admit it, had been often, it had always been with the numb removed feeling, with the memory of what he had done to her and their unborn child.
But now he wasn’t removed at all, and the quicksilver excitement that coursed through her body made her struggles for release all the more fierce. ‘Take your hands off me!’ she ordered in a chilling voice. ‘Before I scream the place down,’ she threatened.
He stepped back, his hands held defensively in the air. ‘Never let it be said that I held a woman against her will.’