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294 pages, Kindle Edition
First published February 2, 2010
He’d wanted other women, had been with other women, but not one of them had gotten under his skin the way she had. Even her friendship, if he could call it that, ran deeper than the trysts at Oxford or the stunted relationships he’d bungled in the years after. Intimacy was simply not part of his makeup. It required skills he’d never cultivated and he felt no inclination to do so. Until now. But it was too late for that. He was comfortable with the life he’d built.
He spent years refining the layers that buffered him from the outside world. His work had always been enough. The search for answers. Facts could be categorized, put in their proper place. Text books were conveniently black and white, but now the world was a swirling mass of murky grays. Feelings he couldn’t grasp, much less control, were getting the better of him day by day.
And now, the one thing he’d been able to cling to, the one thing that centered him, was gone. If there were no way to get home, he thought and felt for the watch in his pocket, he’d be trapped here without his work. He supposed he could start a research project here, check some texts that were lost to the future. But it would do little good. She’d become an inexorable part of that too, he realized. There wasn’t a facet of his life she hadn’t slipped inside of, even his past-the one thing that separates each of us from the other.
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It was impossible. She was impossible. The way her eyes sparked with fire when she argued with him. The way her cheeks flushed. The way her pulse pounded out her fury. He wanted to strangle her with one hand and caress her with the other.
Why did the simple act of watching her sleep make him feel more content than he could remember? Why did he care so much what she was thinking? What she was feeling?
Why did he want her so very much?