Storm Front (Reunited Hearts) by Rachel Curtis

a
step from the recoil. He shot a sheepish look in the direction of the car
before he got a more secure hold on the tree.
    It
was then that Allison felt a flood of a feeling she could only describe as
yearning. It wasn’t physical desire, but it was just as strong, just as
visceral. She wanted Michael. Wanted him. Not just sex with him but the
intelligent flash of his eyes and the ironic quirk of his mouth and the
eminently human line of his shoulders and the way his shirt clung to his skin
from the wetness of the leaves.
    The
feeling overwhelmed her, causing her vision to blur and her hands to clutch shakily
at the steering wheel. It didn’t make sense. She already knew a future was
impossible with him, so this sort of inexplicable yearning could only end up
hurting her.
    But
she felt it. She could almost taste it. She was chilled and terrified as Michael
finished dragging the tree out of the way and returned to the passenger seat of
her car.
    “What’s
wrong?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as they scanned her face. He was far too
astute, far too perceptive.
    “Nothing,”
she lied, putting the SUV into drive and starting off again.
    She
was clearly suffering from temporary insanity, probably brought on by the
extreme conditions of the last two days. She wouldn’t let these weird feelings
control her. She was a mature, sensible woman and didn’t have to be dragged
around by such silly emotions.
    Nothing
could happen with Michael. Even if nothing else would get in the way between
them, eventually he’d have to find out what she did for a living.
    And
then he’d never want to see her again.
    *
* *
    Michael kept slanting
sharp looks over at Allison as she drove quietly down the narrow country road.
    Something
was wrong with her. She’d gotten tense, closed up. It had happened when he was
out of the car taking care of that tree.
    It
worried him. He wondered what he’d done to make her put up her guard like that.
He didn’t like it. She’d been so friendly and open with him for the last two
days—filled with warmth and good spirits.
    The
change was palpable, and it frustrated Michael not to know what had caused it.
    This
morning she’d looked at him with something close to tenderness, and now the dog
seemed happier to see him than she did.
    He
tried a couple of times to make conversation, but Allison only replied in
monosyllables. So he gave up, although he brooded over possibilities and kept
checking her expression for signs and clues.
    It
shouldn’t matter. It wasn’t like Michael had been intending to keep pursuing Allison
after they returned to their normal lives, but he hadn’t done anything to
provoke such coolness, and there was no reason for her to close him out like
this.
    To
distract himself, Michael kept checking his mobile, and after about forty-five
minutes he was finally able to pick up a signal.
    “At
last,” he muttered, hitting a number he had programmed into his phone. His
administrative assistant back in New York picked up. At her courteous greeting,
he said, “Julie. What’s going on?”
    He
blew out a breath as she rambled about how worried everyone had been about his
suddenly dropping out of contact. “I’m all right. Just bring me up to speed.”
    He
knew Allison was listening in on his side of the conversation, and her
curiosity was at least normal for her, characteristic, a sign that she wasn’t
as distanced as she was acting.
    Julie
rehearsed the messages, issues, and problems that had come up over the last two
days. She was competent and organized, and she had them listed in order of
importance.
    For
a few minutes, Michael’s focus was only on business. He responded with some
directions for Julie. He also told her where his damaged car was located and
asked her to get someone to take care of it.
    “And
get me some contact information for someone named Graves.”
    “Todd
Graves,” Allison put in softly.
    “Todd
Graves,” Michael spoke into the phone, giving the address of