I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have come!
She didn’t know what answers she had hoped to find when she set out for the greenbelt. She let go of the bench and started to walk quickly away.
“Catherine?”
Cathy almost stumbled. She shut her eyes tight for a second, before she slowly turned. Michael was standing a few feet away. He must have come from the other direction because she hadn’t seen him before.
Uncertainty edged his expression. His stiff body language betrayed how unsure of himself he was. However, it was his eyes that held her. He stared at her with a painful intensity. It was as though he couldn’t take in enough of the sight of her.
Cathy studied him in turn. He looked older, she thought. There were unexpected shadows in the depths of his pale eyes. New lines radiated from the corners of his eyes. But he still looked good. The dark-blue knit shirt he wore set off his broad shoulders and skimmed his taut physique. It was tucked into tight-fitting jeans that snugged his lean hips and muscular thighs. He looked as physically fit as she remembered.
She nodded politely. “Thank you for meeting me.”
Michael swallowed. He felt as though he had taken a hit to the gut. She was still achingly beautiful. It hurt him just to look at her. He had arrived earlier than the time she had set for their meeting and stood out of sight to watch her from a distance. He had drunk in the sight of her until he saw her start to walk away. Unwilling to let her go without speaking to her or looking into her clear hazel eyes, he had swiftly caught up with her.
Though he was standing close, he did not reach out to touch her. He pivoted, leaned forward to wrap his hands over the back of the bench. He tightened his fingers on the warm wood. His pose was deliberately casual, but he felt the tension bunched in his shoulders. Without looking at her, he said, “I wanted to come.”
“I heard that you’re divorced.”
“Yes.” Emotions and speculation whirled in his turbulent mind. He stared straight ahead, his brows contracted. He had not worn his sunglasses so he did not want to look at her again. He did not want her to read too much in his eyes. “Why did you ask to see me?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. She watched his strong profile. Her whole body quivered with awareness of him. “Maybe because of the way things turned out. Maybe because I didn’t know if that was the way things were supposed to turn out.”
“You’ve got to know that I had strong feelings for you.”
“You, Michael? An emotional attachment?” She couldn’t help the sarcasm and bitterness that surfaced.
“Yes.” He turned his head. The shadows in his eyes had deepened to transparent pain. “I never told you. I regret that every single day.”
Something shifted inside her. All of her careful defenses cracked. The familiar hunger flowed through her. She wavered, remembering what her therapist had said, but she gave in to the need. “Would you—would you hold me?” she whispered.
She waited while Michael’s gaze searched her face. Whatever he saw in her expression made him suck in his breath. Carefully, as though he was afraid that she might break, he drew her forward into his embrace. His strong arms enveloped her, pulling her close. Her arms slid around his trim waist, and her cheek pressed against his shirtfront. She could feel the strong, steady beat of his heart. Cathy closed her eyes. The warmth of his body and his well-remembered scent seeped into her senses. She felt the rightness, and the fear that had remained coiled inside her for too long finally unraveled.
They stood locked close together for several heartbeats.