He swallowed hard but didn’t look away. He couldn’t. He’d had her and he’d thrown her away. The fact that it was for her own good didn’t lessen the pain or the sense of loss that had consumed him every waking hour since.
The blouse she was wearing was silky, the front dipping low enough to show a hint of cleavage. And Sapphire had plenty to showcase. She wasn’t one of your skinny New York-model wannabes. She had curves that made any man who saw her sit up and take notice.
With her waist-length curly black hair, heart-shaped face and killer curves, Sapphire was stunningly beautiful. Not in a conventional, modern way, more like a throwback to the pinup girls from the forties and fifties.
But she hadn’t dressed that provocatively when they’d been together. Granted, he’d been her bodyguard and not her boyfriend at the time, but he’d come to know her well in the time they’d spent together. No, this was a new development, one that coincided with his walking away from her.
That was no accident. There was no denying that Sapphire had changed since he’d rolled out of her bed and left her. It was a hell of a thing for him to do to her and he knew he’d acted like a first-class bastard, but he’d done what he felt he’d had to do.
He’d done the tough things—the right things—all his life, but he’d never done anything that had shredded his soul the way that leaving Sapphire had.
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