The Abby Green Modern Collection. Эбби Грин

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      He was tired. God, he was tired. He’d never felt so tired in all his life. His eyes were gritty behind his lids as he waited for his luggage to be delivered to him. And all he could see was Maggie. He cursed himself again. He could have brought her with him. It wouldn’t have made the slightest bit of difference to his concentration levels and might have actually helped them. She’d managed to invade his every waking thought, every sleeping moment. He’d hoped that the trip might prove to him that she was losing her hold on him, on his desire. If anything it was even stronger. One night he’d had to endure a dinner party where he’d been presented with woman after woman, available for his pleasure. They’d been stunning, the crème de la crème of New York society, models, actresses. And they’d done nothing for him. All he’d wanted was…Maggie. And it tore him up inside to admit it.

      Finally his luggage arrived and he walked out, looking to the usual spot for John. And then he saw her. The joy that ripped through him nearly threw him off balance. He felt dizzy for a second. Was he conjuring her up? She was looking away; he saw her in profile. Her hair a shock of red against her light green cardigan, wrapped around a short shift dress. Bare legs, flip flops.

      And then she turned and looked straight at him with those huge green eyes, ringed with the longest black lashes. He saw her eyes widen; she slightly lifted a hand awkwardly and it dropped slowly.

      Why was he looking at her so angrily? She steeled her heart, which had somersaulted on seeing him, and hitched her chin.

      He came over, face shuttered. Stern. ‘Where’s John?’

      She blocked the hurt that he’d asked for John first and remembered him guiltily. ‘He’s in hospital—’

      ‘What?’

      She put a hand on his arm. ‘He’s fine. It’s an ongoing angina problem and it flared up. I brought him in and insisted on coming to collect you; he was so worried…’ She took her hand away awkwardly.

      He rubbed a weary hand over his eyes and Maggie noticed how tired he was.

      ‘Really, he’s going to be fine. He just needs to be observed for twenty-four hours.’

      ‘Okay.’ He looked at her then, blue eyes pinning her to the spot. A hand reached out and he trailed a finger down one cheek. ‘And you?’

      She gulped for a breath and just shrugged, nodding. She couldn’t even speak. She was useless.

      ‘Thank you for looking after John.’

      She shrugged again. ‘It’s fine. I was hardly going to insist he pick you up or leave him there. The car is parked nearby.’

      ‘You drove his car?’

      ‘Yes, Caleb.’ Her dry tone belied the turmoil it had taken to drive there.

      When they reached it, she couldn’t resist saying cheekily, ‘I was going to bring the Mini but was afraid your ego wouldn’t fit…’

      He smiled a rare smile and felt a burst of pleasure at her irreverence; it was something he never encountered. ‘Ha, ha.’

      He automatically went to the driver’s side and Maggie could see him pass a hand over his eyes. He looked pale with exhaustion.

      He gestured for the keys. She shook her head. ‘You’re not driving; you’re half asleep.’

      ‘Maggie—’

      She was so firm, she surprised him. ‘No way.’

      She promptly got into the driver’s seat and, short of pulling her back out, Caleb had no choice. Frankly he was too tired to argue. He sat in the passenger seat. He could feel his eyes drift shut; couldn’t keep them open. His last waking thoughts were that he’d never ever been met by a woman at the airport before, how much he’d liked it…and that he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had driven him. And yet, of all women, Maggie had done these two things. And he knew in his exhausted, vulnerable state, before his mind could jump in and deny it, that he wouldn’t have wanted to see anyone else there. The darkness enfolded him.