Sharon could not wait to get home and be rid of Bryan. She was too conscious of his presence and she was scared of him meeting her daughter and drawing the right conclusions.
She could feel Bryan's eyes on her, intent, staring, there was only a few inches between them in the close confines of the taxi and the air seemed heavy with tension. She looked down at her hands, they were trembling, her knuckles white and she hurriedly pushed them into the pickets of her thick coat as she tried to cope with the situation she found herself in.
She still felt shocked, incredulous that she was sitting in this taxi with him.
'You haven't changed at all', he broke the silence, his voice low and slightly husky.
Sharon lifted her face, a frown pleating her pale face. 'Of course I have. Two years and a few months is a lifetime!' she did not want to add, nurturing a baby and nursing a dying man to the assemble.
'I know', he said. He gave no emphasis to the words, no expression but the words were loaded with meaning.
Sharon looked out of the dusty window, not bothering to answer, her face unfocused and pained.
'How have you been?' he sounded polite now, urbane.
She didn't want to talk and he knew that, she thought furiously.
'Fine'. She had to stop herself snapping, deliberately keeping to one word.
'And your husband?' his eyes narrowed on her averted face.
'He's dead?' she said regretting tightening her mouth. So he knew about Gerhard?
'So I heard', he clipped the word harshly, very coolly.
'So why did you ask?', furiously angry, her eyes met his. Their glances locked. Raw electricity flickering through them. Sharon looked into the narrowed dark low depths and felt as though she was being sucked into a whirlpool.
'I suppose that I was curious to see your reaction', Bryan said very slowly, his eyes still holding hers.
Stunned by his callousness, Sharon swallowed painfully. 'You haven't changed either'. She retorted icily. 'You are still a cold ruthless swine',
He acknowledged the insult, his lips curving in a hard smile. 'And you are still as bad tempered'.
'Thanks very much'. Strangely, the slightest criticism from him hurt so much and she could feel tears stinging her eyes, blocking her throat as she stared with pretended interest out of the window.But she found herself looking at Bryan's reflection, unable to drag her eyes away or focus them on anything beyond the glass.
She had told him the truth, however calculated to insult. He hadn't changed at all. Perhaps a few more lines etched into his tanned smoothness of his face but no sign of grey in the vital blackness of his hair and his body was still magnificent, lean and powerful beneath the expensively tailored dark suit. What had she expected that he would grow old in two years so that he would no longer fascinate or attract her? Was it just his looks that she had been attracted to that the lose of which would make her lose interest?
But she could not really say the same for herself, child birth and lactation may not have left her body as firm as it used to be. She was not regretting having her daughter, she would never regret it. People had often told her that motherhoid became her. That she did not look like she had given birth, her stomach still very flat, her breasts firm and her figure still slim just a little voluptuous in the right places and in the right quantity. They tell her that she was one of the lucky few to maintain their beauty and shape after child birth and she believed them, so why was she suddenly so conscious of her shape now? She had no intention of attracting Bryan, or did she?
She swallowed on the blockage in her throat. He was so near, she could feel the pull of his physical magnetism, his sheer strength teaching out to her. She had thought that if by chance they ever met again, she would surely be immune, given that she was more mature now with alot of responsibilities. Wasn't time supposed to heal all wounds? How long would she have to wait to be whole again?
The taxi screeched to a sudden halt, horn blaring as another motorist cut out of a narrow side street in front of them. Sharon fell forward, sliding put of the vinyl seat.
Strong arm closed round her upper arms, steadying her and for a second, Bryan's face was so close to hers that she could see a web of fine lines beneath his eyes the thickness of black lashes against his skin before she was gently pushed back into her seat.
The driver was swearing, leaning out of the window to gesticulate. Sharon, unaware of it all,felt her heart pounding in her chest.
'I... I'm sorry...' she felt the need to break the silence, the awkwardness, her skin running cold with worry.
'It wasn't your fault', Bryan said in a deep quiet voice.
It seemed to her that he hadn't taken his eyes off her since she first stepped feet into the car.
'No... I realise that'.
There was a certain stiffness in his posture and she suddenly remembered his broken ribs, the car accident. Had she hurt him cannoning forward like that? Her heart constricted against her will.
'Do your ribs hurt?' she heard herself asking in a small sympathetic voice.
Bryan's eyes held hers, filled with cynical mockery.
'They hurt like hell's, he told her softly and she knew what he was thinking.
'Looking for sympathy?' she queried coldly.
Bryan laughed, a low growl of genuine amusement. 'I'm already basking in your sweet concern and believe me, I appreciate it'.
Sharon gritted her teeth. 'I just happened to notice it in the papers, that's all. Don't imagine I really care. I'm merely trying to make this... this ridiculous situation, a little bearable'.
'Really?' Bryan's mouth curved up at the corners. He looked pleased with himself.
'Yes, really', Sharon replied wishing that she had held back and not said a word.
'Why so angry, I wonder?' Bryan mused wickedly.
Sharon turned away. Why indeed, she wondered, but did not bother to answer him. She felt very close to tears again. and she was desperate that he should not see her cry.
'Sharon...', he spoke her name deeply, the familiar intonation making her heart turn over. He had already seen her tears.
'No', she whispered, keeping her head down, not daring to look at him.
'You don't know what I am going to say', he teased and the gentleness in his voice was almost her undoing. The atmosphere between them had suddenly changed the air laden with unspoken emotion.
'Bryan, please...' she could feel herself trembling. 'Please leave me alone'.
He swore softly under his breath. 'Give me one good reason, why I should'. Without warning, he reached out, his long fingers taking her chin, turning her face up to his.
She felt totally exposed as their eyes met, hers brimming with tears, frightened, unsure and slightly deviant.
Bryan looked at her with dark intensity, surprised at her vulnerability. She was still so fragile, so easily hurt. She had run from him, stayed with his cousin and he had thought that was all he had to deal with but no, she disappeared without a word had a baby and married another man. And it seemed impossible that he still had the power to hurt her, to make her cry like this.
He released her chin, allowing her the privacy of lowering her eyes again.
'I'm sorry', he said quietly.
Sharon frowned. swallowing back her tears, wondering at the sudden apology. What had he read in her eyes during those few defenceless seconds?
'Forget it's. In control again, she managed a tight smile, her lashes flickering upwards, not daring to look at him.
The moment ticked by in silence. Through her lashes she watched him remove a slim gold ball pen from his pocket. She watched his hands convulsively. They were strong and tanned, the fingers long, hard skinned. She remembered their touch against her skin.
'I heard that you are working for Oliver Stevenson's, he was deliberately trying to lighten the atmosphere and Sharon stiff and overly suspicious wondered at his motive.
'Yes', her one word answer was deliberately uncooperative.
'Do you enjoy it?' He was not to be put off. She heard the teasing amusement in his voice.
'Yes, I enjoy it's. At the thought if Oliver and that last dinner in Corfu, faint colour stole into her cheeks and although she tried to hide it, she was well aware that Bryan had seen it.
He narrowed his eyes and she knew he wanted to make one curt remark or the other.
'Look, do we have to talk?' she demanded coldly, so exposed did she feel as though her skin had been ripped away.
Bryan smiled and she couldn't read his expression.
'What are you so scared of?'
'You', she said with bald honesty and regretted it immediately.
'Why?' He shot the question back expressionlessly.
'I don't know'. It was an unsteady half truth.
Bryan sighed, about to say something, changing his mind.
'So you enjoy working for Oliver Stevenson more than David? I had thought that your life was banking. What happened to change all that?' he asked again as though he couldn't understand it.
'Could we leave that particular discussion for another day?' she said.
'You can't keep running from the complications of life you know? You have to learn how to stand and face life squarely. Running from situations could never make them go away. You might while running from them, find that you are actually running towards them and colliding with them even', he said staring at her intensely.
Sharon knew what he was talking about and how true it was but she refused to say anything. She had spoken enough as it was.