how good they’d been together for that brief time in Capri. It would only end in tears.
Archer glared at Tom. ‘You breathe one word of her staying here to the folks and you’re dead.’
A cunning glint lit Tom’s eyes. ‘Tell you what. I’ll keep my mouth shut if you admit you still want her.’
In response, Archer got him in a headlock. He could never stay detached with Trav or Tom for long. Each year when he returned his initial aloofness disappeared a little quicker.
Besides, he didn’t really blame them for withholding stuff he should have been privy to. That had been his dad’s doing and, while he loved the stubborn old coot, he couldn’t forget. Forgive? Yeah, he’d done that a few years back. Now he just had to pluck up the courage to let Frank know, rather than punishing him because he couldn’t get the words out to make it all better.
As he tussled with Tom, Izzy joined in the fun by leaping on her dad’s back. Her squeals of laughter didn’t distract him from the truth.
Denying any semblance of feeling for Callie was useless.
She’d wheedled her way under his skin.
Again.
And there wasn’t one damn thing he could do about it.
‘PEACE at last.’ Archer slid Callie a coffee as she lounged on the balcony.
‘Your brothers are cool and Izzy’s adorable,’ Callie said, adding an extra spoon of sugar to her espresso.
She needed the hit, still reeling from seeing Archer in a family environment. The guy she’d known had never talked about family. He had been the quintessential loner who breezed through life without a care in the world. The guy who didn’t commit to anything or anyone beyond his beloved surfing.
So to see him interacting with his brothers had thrown her. He’d been reserved at first, as if he didn’t want them in his home—which made no sense after the rough-housing she’d seen once he’d lightened up.
When she’d strolled into the kitchen after her walk it had been like walking smack-bang into an invisible glass wall. The tension had been that thick. She’d glimpsed the circumspection in his eyes and the fact she’d recognised it, could get a read on his feelings after all this time, had irked.
She’d masked her discomfort by being bright and bubbly and a little gushing with his brothers and niece. Which had seemed to annoy Archer further.
What was wrong with the guy? As his date for the wedding, didn’t he want her to act naturally around his family? Sheesh.
And that was another thing that had thrown her: his obvious attachment to his niece. He’d never struck her as the type to like kids. Not with his lifestyle. But he’d been smitten with Izzy, and seeing the two of them together, their heads bent close as they mulled over a jigsaw puzzle, had unlocked a host of feelings she’d rather not deal with.
She didn’t want to remember how attentive and caring he’d been in Capri. And she sure as hell didn’t want to acknowledge his consistent flirting, slowly chipping away at her necessary resistance.
She wouldn’t give in—not when she knew his overt displays of charm came as naturally to him as catching a wave. She’d been sucked in by it once, and had been let down beyond belief.
She knew that feeling well. Bruno Umberto had made an art form of building up hopes only to let down his daughter.
As for the rare glimpses of unguarded admiration—first when she’d been playing chess with Trav, then when she’d made lemonade for Izzy—she didn’t like that at all.
He’d used to look at her like that in Capri, as if she were the only woman in the world, and to see the same look seriously perturbed her. She couldn’t afford to get involved with Archer again—not when her emotions were already bruised and fragile from the rollercoaster ride with her mum.
Living life in the moment was one thing. Setting herself up for another dose of heartbreak was another.
She’d given in to his request to be his wedding date for one reason only: to keep the peace between them so they could get the surf school business done and dusted this week.
That kiss on the beach had been just like the one in the car on the way down here yesterday morning. Archer being Archer. Impulsive. Rash. Selfish. Doing what he wanted regardless of the consequences.
Harsh? Maybe, but all the kisses in the world couldn’t turn back time and erase the way he’d ended things between them, and that was what she had to focus on if she were to keep any residual feelings at bay.
And doing that was imperative. She couldn’t afford to acknowledge how incredible his kisses were, how alive they made her feel.
Uh-uh. She needed to focus on the one reason she was here: business.
‘Yeah, Izzy’s the best.’ Archer held up a hand, wavered it. ‘Tom and Trav? Not so much.’
‘Your mum must’ve had a handful with three boys.’
He stiffened, as if she’d asked an intensely personal question rather than making conversation. ‘Yeah, we kept her on her toes.’
She wanted to ask about his parents, about his childhood, but she couldn’t get a read on his mood.
They were sprawled on comfy cushioned sofas—she’d studiously avoided the love-seat—on the glass-enclosed balcony, overlooking an amazing ocean tinged with sunset. It reeked of intimacy, yet Archer’s perfunctory answers and shuttered expression weren’t encouraging.
‘Do you want kids?’
And then he went and floored her with a question like that. A question far surpassing intimacy and heading straight for uncomfortable.
‘Not sure.’
She cradled her coffee cup, hoping some if its warmth would melt the icy tentacles of unease squeezing her heart.
After the genetic testing, when it had been proved she didn’t have the mutated gene that sounded a death knell for her mum, she’d undergone counselling to get a grip on her rioting emotions: relief, guilt, happiness, fear. Yet for all these years, deep down where she hid her innermost fears, she hadn’t been able to shake the irrational dread that somehow those doctors had made a mistake and she’d contract the disease after all.
Crazy and illogical. The odds were in her favour to have perfectly healthy kids. But why tempt fate when it had dealt her such a rough hand so far?
‘The opportunity hasn’t come up?’
Surprised by his line of questioning, she eyeballed him. ‘If you’re asking if I’ve been in a serious relationship since Capri, no. I’ve dated. That’s about it.’
She half expected him to flinch at her bluntness in bringing up the past, but to his credit he didn’t look away.
‘Why?’
