third day together in Capri—a day filled with swimming in a pristine ocean, sharing grilled calamari and fresh bread for lunch, indulging in a decadent session of afternoon delight, before strolling hand in hand through the cobbled streets.
They’d laughed and jostled and snuggled, typical holiday lovers, and discovering the cottage with exquisitely made glass figurines had made Callie’s day. She loved that kind of thing, and he’d indulged her by going in, surprised by the wizened old guy who looked about a hundred creating mini-masterpieces.
The porpoises had caught his attention because he’d seen some during his first major competition, and he’d labelled them his good luck charm ever since.
He’d commissioned a Californian artist to carve a replica of these little glass guys a few years ago, and it took pride of place in the entry hall of his Malibu home.
A home that, like the rest of them, he barely visited.
‘You thought it was cool when we went into that glassblowing shop in Capri, so I went back and bought it. I was going to give it to you that last day, but...’ She trailed off, not needing to finish.
He’d acted like a jackass, deliberately saying stuff he didn’t mean before he let another person get close. Easier to depend on no one and avoid the ultimate let-down.
‘Reading too much into a holiday fling...nothing more than a bit of fun...lighten up before you scare off more guys.’
The words came back to haunt him. Come tomorrow he’d make amends and say the words she wanted to hear.
He had all night to work on his delivery. When he wasn’t making love to her, that was.
‘I was a jerk.’
‘Yeah, but you were right.’
He didn’t like her emotionless tone, or her shuttered expression as he turned over the delicately intertwined frolicking porpoises.
‘I can’t believe you’ve kept them all these years.’
She ran a fingertip along their fins, a soft, wistful sigh escaping her lips. ‘I actually forgot I had them. Then, when you showed up and bossed me into coming here, I thought they’d make an okay Christmas gift.’
‘An okay gift?’ He stared at her in disbelief. Was she being deliberately blasé or did this really not mean anything to her?
She’d kept something so special all these years, something he’d specifically wanted, and she was acting as if she’d given him a pair of woollen socks.
‘It’s a trinket from the past. Nothing more.’
She shrugged, and the first fingers of doubt crept around his dream of a relationship and strangled it.
‘I’m glad this time we had the foresight to know this was a fling and nothing more. No expectations that way. No feelings get hurt. Nice and clean.’
Her brittle laugh set him on edge.
‘What did you say back then? A short time and a good time?’ She interlaced her fingers through his. ‘It’s certainly been that, Archer Flett. Consider this a thank-you gift too.’
Gobsmacked, he let her take the porpoises and place them on the glass-topped table beside them before clambering onto his lap. Her arms snaked around his neck, tugging his head towards her, her lips meeting his in an explosion of need.
There was nothing tender about the kiss. It was pure desperation, heat and passion and fear. Fear of the future? Fear of farewell?
Whatever, now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. He had a million questions to ask her.
In the morning.
For now he wanted to show her how much she meant to him.
He might not be able to eradicate the immature stuff he’d said in Capri, but he could sure as hell let his actions do all the talking now.
CALLIE wasn’t proud of what she’d done.
She should have told Archer the truth last night. And she shouldn’t have snuck away in the early hours. Or made Tom complicit in her deceit.
She had to give him credit for not spilling her secret. She’d half expected Archer to confront her about her plan to abscond once she’d asked Tom for a favour at the wedding.
But Archer hadn’t suspected a thing.
She’d had her chance to say goodbye and she’d taken it. Several times during the night, with each erotic encounter surpassing the last.
It had been subliminal, knowing it would be their last time together. She’d imprinted every whispered word, savoured every caress, treasured every touch.
If Archer had been surprised by her wild enthusiasm he hadn’t shown it. He’d responded in kind, taking her to heights she’d only ever read about in novels.
And then she’d left, creeping out at 5:00 a.m.
Thankfully Izzy had been asleep in the back of the car, and after a few less than subtle questions Tom had given up interrogating her.
The Fletts were a loyal bunch, for not once had Tom discredited his brother, apart from saying he was a nong for letting her get away again.
She’d had to give him something to shut him up, so she’d settled for a semi-truth. They’d already said their goodbyes last night. They were happy to resume their respective lives, and she had to get back to her mum on Christmas Day.
All perfectly respectable, perfectly legitimate reasons...for running out like a chicken.
The truth was she couldn’t face the long car ride back to Melbourne with Archer—couldn’t face the awkwardness of another goodbye.
This way they could resume their old relationship—e-mailing for business—and avoid any mess.
He was flying out today, so he wouldn’t have time to worry about her early departure anyway. He had things to do, places to be.
Things and places that didn’t include her.
That was why she’d given him the porpoises. She’d lied about that too, telling him she’d forgotten about them.
As if. She might have banished her memories of their time in Capri, but every now and then, when her mum had a particularly bad day and Callie felt lonely, she’d take them out of their recycled cardboard box, cradle them in her hand and remember...
Remember that special time in Capri, wishing she could have one ounce of it again.
Well, now she had, and where had it left her? Worse than before. Seriously in love with a guy who had no clue.
To his credit, his reaction to her gift had blown her away. She hadn’t expected to see him emotional, and for a few tense
