Silhouette Intimate Moments
1168
August 2002
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Jo kept her eyes lowered slightly, her gaze hitting the stranger about mid-chest. It lingered over the glint of gold-edged sunglasses casually hooked in his shirt pocket, as a quick indrawn breath tightened the fit of his shirt.

The view was everything she'd imagined.

Pretending disinterest, she didn't raise her eyes until she drew level and Bull was saying, "This is the little lady you want to meet. Detective Jo Jellic."

Bull's too precious diminutive put a hex on the smile she'd been holding back to blind the stranger with. Deliberately, she thrust out her hand, getting in first.

At chin level she got her first surprise. Not at the few days growth of dark gold beard that covered his skin, but the several weeks older sun-tinted moustache. Her eyes held on it as if counting each hair, each sun-lightened strand above his full, firm mouth. If he'd been smiling his teeth would have made a dazzling contrast to all that gold. But he wasn't.

Tilting her head, for the man topped her by at least five inches, Jo added another point to his total. It took a couple of seconds for the penny to drop, then her breath caught in her throat, and her greeting stuttered to a halt.

Shocked, her hand clutched air while she doubted her own eyes.

"Jo, meet Rowan...er...McQuaid," said Bull with a quick look at the business card in his hand.

"Rowan McQuaid," she wheezed as her oxygen ran out.

God, he'd changed!

Time froze, as he looked down his long nose at her, nostrils flaring slightly, with eyes the opaque green of glass that has been battered by rough waves. Cold as ice, his hand enveloped hers. A shiver she badly wanted to hide, slowly crept up her spine, never missing a notch. Jo let out another breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding as his eyes lightened and hazel flecks patterned the green, the way she remembered.

"As they say, long time no see," he drawled. A dry sound, lacking warmth.

And where was the surprise in that? The changes she perceived in this man, who had once been her friend, had been all been her doing. All her fault.

"You...you look well. I hardly recognized you, Rowan."

"Well, it's been two years, and you know what they say about time." It healed all wounds.

But what about their friendship, could it even come close to fixing that? Jo let her hand drop, and took the opportunity to ease her tense body through the narrow space between him and her desk, wary of brushing against his.

She'd once prided herself on nerves of steel, yet they quivered now, like a plucked bowstring. It puzzled her mightily when the dull, leaden feeling of guilt she'd expected was superceded by feelings of uncertainty. As if she was indeed that little lady her colleagues kept calling her.