to him. He’d tell her tonight, after the awards.
On a quiet Sunday morning, it could be only a twenty-minute drive to get to the airport, but in traffic like this it might be a good fifty minutes or more. His muscles clenched at the thought of seeing her again and having to say goodbye. He thought back on that conversation so late those few nights ago. The one that had turned him incandescent with rage and forced him into breaking the friendship boundary. His jaw clamped tighter but it was no use. He was powerless to resist, unable to block the constant dreams of her.
Starvation hadn’t killed the sexual attraction. Nor had that night of indulgence. He thought of her more and more. Every phone call he heard the sultry in her voice.
Seeing her would only worsen it. So what was the point of tormenting himself even more? The sooner she was expunged, the better. And wouldn’t seeing her once more only tempt him back into trouble?
The best idea would be for him to go to Australia as soon as possible and focus on that. Because what did she get from him really? He couldn’t believe she really needed his friendship. She had plenty of other friends and she was already expecting him to let her down. Her reaction when he told her about the meeting had shown that. And even if, for just a second, he let himself dream of being with her, he knew he couldn’t ask it of her. She loved her job. She was damn good at it. And it was completely incompatible with his. She didn’t need him distracting her or holding her back. She’d been in it only a few months and she was up for an award already. It was her calling. What she was best at, and what she adored. She was becoming as bad a workaholic as he was.
He frowned at that. She was tired with all these back to back tours. She needed a rest. In his most private dream he’d take her back to the hut and pin her there until she’d caught up on all the sleep she needed. He groaned at the agony. Because it wasn’t really sleep he was dreaming of.
And then he thought back to that call—the ‘it’s okay to meet someone else’ call. Wasn’t her staying ‘friends’ with him limiting her chances of meeting other people? Couldn’t there be some guy she’d meet who’d be so much better for her? Some other tour guide or someone who had more to offer her. It would happen soon enough. There’d be some charmer on her tour who’d tempt her. Who’d treat her the way she ought to be treated.
He didn’t want to be on the end of the phone when she told him about her new lover. Never.
He’d hurt Sarah with his unavailability. His ‘lack of support’ as she’d put it. Emotional—not financial, of course. He didn’t want to hurt Ellie. Not any more than he had to. There was no future for their friendship. It couldn’t ever work. It wasn’t working now. And he couldn’t bear the thought of feeling hurt himself. The sooner it was over, the better for the both of them.
He leaned forward in the seat and called to the driver. ‘Actually, I’ve changed my mind. Turn back to the city, please.’ He’d check into a hotel and get to work researching the Australians’ proposal. That was his future.
He fished out his phone. He didn’t want to speak to her. Not with this ache in his upper chest as if he were coming down with some infection—he didn’t want her to hear him sounding husky. He’d text her. He stared sightlessly at the screen, deciding how to word it. Best to end it in a way that would be complete for her. To do what she expected in her heart. He paused, motionless.
He wasn’t looking out of the window. He never saw the car at the intersection—the one not slowing down for the light as it should. He never heard the noise. Because at that moment, the only thing he could see was her sparkling eyes.
* * *
Ellie didn’t wear the black slip dress. She went all out and bought a new one—that she couldn’t really afford and that she’d probably wear only the once because it was too luxe for everyday life. French navy in colour, clingy—she felt a million dollars wearing it. Not to mention sensual, with cool silk skimming over her skin. Not that she was thinking sex either.
She did her make-up, blow-dried her hair, slipped her feet into the kind of shoes she could only bear to wear for minutes rather than hours—the sparkly, insane stiletto sort, with heels so high she’d be practically en pointe. But it would be fine—dinner was a sit-down affair, she’d taxi there. And Ruben would still be taller than her but she might be able to brush her lips over his with a mere tilt of her chin.
Of course, she took her imagination in a firm grip, she’d be brushing her lips across his cheek, not his mouth. They were friends. And she was not, not, not counting the hours until she saw him again. Absolutely did not know exactly how many seconds it had been since she last saw him.
‘Oh, wow, you look amazing.’ Bridie smiled at her when Ellie made it to the bar.
The venue for the awards was a couple of doors along. Ruben was coming straight from the airport. A hot flare of desire burst inside her at the mere thought of seeing him. She shivered, telling her skipping heart to calm down.
‘You need another drink?’ she asked Bridie, needing to move to work off some of her nervous energy.
She went to the bar, checked her phone while waiting to be served. No message. She was still giving herself a mental lecture even after the bartender had poured the drinks and she was carrying them back to the group. There could be traffic delays, flight delays, all kinds of reasons why he wasn’t there yet. Twenty minutes later she bit the bullet and sent him a text.
Just 2 let u know we’ve gone into the convention centre for the awards. Yr name is on the door so u can get in, but let me know when u get here & I’ll meet u.
She sat at the table. Silly to be nervous. Her hands cold and clammy, her heart skipping beats uncomfortably. Restless. Time played with her mind—two minutes felt like twenty. A permanent state of waiting was a horrible way to live.
And then time sped up. The awards were all on and she wanted the clock hands to slow again. It wasn’t as if she could ask them to delay the announcements. It was okay. She had Bridie on one side of her. An empty seat on the other but, hey, that didn’t really matter—not when there were canapés to die for and an endless amount of wine. And a bunch of flirty tourism types who truly knew how to party.
‘Do you think he’s going to make it?’ Bridie asked.
Ellie smiled with a careless shrug and was so glad she’d played down her relationship with Ruben. A friend, she’d defined him herself, right? She checked her phone again. Still no message. He didn’t even have the decency to reply to her text?
‘I don’t know that he is.’ She turned away so Bridie couldn’t see her screen and lied to cover the fact she’d been stood up. ‘Oh, no, his flight’s been delayed.’
But she’d used her phone to check the airport website only ten minutes before—all flights were on schedule and operating normally. If he’d got the flight he’d be here already. And if he hadn’t got the flight, why hadn’t he contacted her to let her know?
Goosebumps feathered over her skin.
She knew why he hadn’t contacted her. Because he didn’t want to be there. If he’d really wanted to be there, he’d be there. It was like all those unfulfilled promises of her parents. One or other would promise to be there—a sports day, a special assembly—but more often than not they’d forget, too swept up in their own affairs, careers or better offers. Once or twice one or other had arrived just at the end—having missed her event. Never on time. Never truly there just for her. Something or someone else
