Tangled Up Read online

  3

  OH, CRAP.

  The first thing our mother taught us was never to show a man you’re broken-hearted. I’d virtually dropped the pieces of mine in his lap.

  ‘What I mean is, I’ve learned to look after myself.’ I realized we were in Notting Hill and felt unnerved. ‘How do you know where I live?’

  ‘There are some things we need to talk about, but first I want to check that head of yours.’

  I wanted to check my head, too. What had possessed me to climb into a car with Hunter Black? Obviously I had a concussion. I needed a health check, or at the very least a reality check.

  ‘We don’t have anything to talk about, but I do want to know how you have my address.’

  He didn’t answer me. Instead he took a right and then a left into the leafy, tree-lined street where I lived with my sister.

  Our apartment was on the top floor of a lovely brick building, with views over the rooftops toward Kensington Gardens. If you stood on tiptoe and stuck your head out of our bathroom window, you could see Prince Harry (only kidding, sadly). We were right in the middle of shops, restaurants and the market. I loved it. Of course, since Hayley and Nico got together—you probably felt the ground shake—I’d had it to myself quite a bit. I didn’t mind that. It meant I could practise in the living room without accidently kicking her or getting yelled at when I knocked a lamp off the table. Normally coming home soothed me. Tonight I was officially freaked out.

  ‘Good night, Hunter. Thanks for the lift.’

  ‘Is Hayley home?’

  ‘How do I know? And why do you care?’

  ‘You had a blow to the head. I’m not leaving you alone.’

  ‘I want you to leave me alone.’ I was fumbling with my seat belt, fingers slippery and shaky with nerves. Turned out I couldn’t even do that without help and I felt the warm strength of his hand as it covered mine.

  His fingers were warm, strong and totally steady and it irritated me that he had so much control when I had none.

  He leaned forward and his jaw, dark with stubble, was only inches from my eyes. I looked at the sensual curve of his lips and the urge to press my mouth against his was almost painful.

  And then he looked at me and I knew he was fighting the same urge.

  For a moment we sat there, the moment of intimacy disturbed by the flash of headlights from a passing car.

  Mouth tight, he unclipped my seat belt. ‘You’re bleeding. I should have taken you to the E.R.’

  ‘It’s nothing.’ I was struggling to focus, but it had nothing to do with the blow to my head. There was something about being close to Hunter Black that made the most level-headed of women dizzy. ‘I’ll be fine. Good night. Great to catch up with you again after all this time. Have a nice life.’

  I never was any good at delivering sarcasm, a fact confirmed by his smile. It was a slow, sexy, slightly exasperated smile that acknowledged everything that lay between us. I didn’t want to acknowledge it. I preferred to step over it with my eyes shut.

  Desperate to get away from that smile, those shoulders, the man, I virtually scrambled out of his car and sprinted to the door.

  ‘Stairs or elevator?’ He was right behind me and I gritted my teeth. When I was eighteen, he’d left me at acceleration speeds that would have left his car standing, but now I couldn’t shake him off.

  ‘You’ve spent too long in Hollywood. We say lift. And you can go now.’

  ‘Not before I’ve seen you safely home.’

  ‘I’m home.’ I didn’t feel up to the stairs—not that I would have admitted that in a million years—so I stepped into the tiny lift but the moment he stepped in after me I realized my mistake. We were on the second floor. To be honest, it was crazy that we even had a lift in this building. The space was barely big enough for two people. It certainly wasn’t big enough for two people who were trying to keep their distance. My arm brushed against his and I flattened myself against the doors.

  It was only two floors but it felt like going to the top of the Empire State Building. Every one of those floors felt like twenty. Every second felt like an hour. I could feel his gaze on me and it took all my willpower not to look at him.

  I was determined not to.

  I wasn’t going to.

  I wasn’t…

  Crap.

  I turned my head.

  My eyes moved to his chest, to the narrow strip of his tie, the silk of his shirt and upward to the dark depths of his eyes. I hated him for walking away so easily, for not finding me impossible to leave—and I hated myself for caring so much—but that didn’t change the fact he was spectacular. His features were intensely masculine, his hair black as the devil, cropped too short to soften those hard features. No one would argue that Hunter’s hotness factor was right up in quadruple figures. And I didn’t need to wonder what it would be like to be kissed by him. I knew. The memory was embedded deep in my brain. I hadn’t been able to delete it.

  I told myself it was the bang on my head that was making me feel swimmy. Anything other than admit it was him.

  I hated him for making me want him again.

  ‘It’s good to see you again, Ninja.’ The combination of his tone and the way he was looking at me made me feel as if someone had kicked my legs out from under me.

  ‘I don’t feel the same way. And don’t call me Ninja.’

  It made me think of the day we’d first spoken. I was sixteen and I’d lost a competition to a girl from a rival karate club. I’d been furious with myself, not least because I should have won. I would have, but I hadn’t been concentrating. Instead I’d been glancing around the room to see if my parents were going to show up and embarrass me. They went through a hideous phase where they both showed up to everything, not because they cared but because they were trying to outdo each other in proving who was the better parent. In the end neither of them came. I probably should have been relieved they hadn’t been there to witness my humiliation, but I wasn’t. It just proved what I already knew. That neither of them cared.

  I sat at the edge of the gym on my own, putting more energy into holding back tears than I’d ever put into beating my opponent, when Hunter squatted down in front of me.

  I knew who he was. Who didn’t? All the girls were crazy about Hunter. He was twenty years old, a skilled fighter, the youngest black belt our club had ever had and seriously hot, but he was too focused on training to be interested in a relationship, and anyway, he wouldn’t have noticed me, because I was too young. Right at that moment I would have fast-forwarded time if that had been an option.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  I looked at him. ‘I lost. I made mistakes.’

  ‘That’s the past. Next time you’ll win, Rosie.’

  For some reason the fact that he knew my name made me feel better.

  ‘It doesn’t matter anyway,’ I muttered. ‘No one will be watching.’

  ‘I’ll be watching.’ He held out his hand and pulled me to my feet. ‘Now go back out there, forget what’s in the past and start fresh. Watch your balance. Keep your focus and concentration. Mistakes are learning experiences. Move on. Forget everything else in your life. That’s what I do.’

  I looked up at him, skinny, angular teenage me, and tried to imagine this broad-shouldered god having anything in his life he needed to forget. ‘You have stuff you need to forget?’ He gave a faint smile and brushed a stray tear away from my face with the pad of his thumb. ‘Everyone does, Ninja.’

  Ninja.

  I liked the name. It made me feel strong and suddenly I didn’t feel like crying anymore.

  He might have said something else but at that moment my sister flew across the room, school bag heavy with books banging against her hip. Her hair had half escaped from her ponytail and her breasts were doing their best to push the buttons of her shirt right out of the holes.

  ‘Sorry I’m late. I had extra maths tuition and then Mum and Dad were arguing about where we were going to spend Christmas,