Memories of Love Read Online Free Page B

moisturiser and sunscreen, and whispered her rebellion to the guest room mirror. She refused to accept the accuracy of Ivan’s rejection last night.
    Yes, the trauma of the fire may have broken through the emotional barriers that usually guarded her heart, the ones that kept her from connecting closely with anyone, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t chosen to make love with Ivan. She’d been willing to risk the consequences.
    And now she had all the embarrassment and awkwardness, with no memory of joy.
    Worse, she knew it wasn’t her vulnerability that had stopped Ivan. When he’d said ‘You’re vulnerable’, he’d meant ‘You’re ordinary’. She knew the code. Vulnerable could be accepted. A person could and did grow out of being vulnerable, but the gulf between the elite and the ordinary never vanished.
    Ivan was elite. It wasn’t the extrinsic stuff, that he’d been in the Special Forces or started a successful security business. It was in his nature. He was a leader. Physically, he had power and his reflexes were lethally fast. The elite kept to their own.
    “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” She looped her handbag over her shoulder and took a deep breath. Now she was paying for playing out of her league. She intended to skip breakfast. She’d deal with Ivan in the office, where she had all the props and busy work to hide in. If it proved unbearable, she’d have to resign.
    She really didn’t want to. Most of Tamerlane Security personnel were elite, like Ivan. But they’d become friends. Even if she existed on the fringes of their lives, she felt as if she belonged.
    If she wanted to keep all that, then she had to lock last night away, never to be remembered. Ivan would agree with her.
    “Coffee?” He was waiting for her in the kitchen.
    “I’ll grab a cup at the office.”
    His mouth thinned.
    She placed the security access card for the apartment on the bench.
    He frowned at it, then at her.
    “Thanks for giving me a place to stay.”
    But he cut into her prepared speech. “What, you organised a rental between last night and now?”
    “I have a place to stay.” She’d book a room in a hotel. She returned to the guest room and picked up her suitcase. Facing him for the first time had been hard, but she’d done it.
    He took the case from her, his expression grim. “I’ll carry it to your car.”
    The lift descended in awful silence.
    “About last night,” he began.
    She prayed the lift would travel faster, then cursed its slow-opening doors.
    “It won’t affect your job,” he said.
    She burst out of the doors, her high heels clicking against the cement floor of the car park. “I believe you. You have a rule against fraternisation in the workplace.” Rule a number of people broke, but discreetly. She reckoned Ivan knew that the relationships happened, but turned a blind eye. It was sufficient for him if no one made a song and dance when the relationships crashed and burned. Security was a high intensity, high risk field. It created intense, fleeting relationships. The sort of relationships that would kill her.
    Yeah, she’d been playing out of her league in so many ways. She ought to be glad Ivan had stopped.
    He stowed the case in the boot of her car and walked around to the driver’s door. She’d hurried to the car and was just tucking her legs into the foot well and reaching to close the door. He put a hand on it, holding it open. “The apartment card. Keep it.” He dropped it in her lap. “Sometimes accommodation doesn’t work out. You’re welcome to return. No need to ask.”
    In an awkward, masculine way, he was respecting her pride. Still, she’d sooner eat dirt than re-enter his flat. “Thanks, but it’s probably better if we keep it employer and employee. You were right. Last night I wasn’t thinking clearly and I made a mistake. It’s just lucky we don’t have more to regret.” She tugged at the door and he released it. She slammed it shut.
    He stood and watched as she