had been good times, amazing times, and for those magical three months he’d held her spellbound, caught up in a whirlwind of passion and laughter and friendship the likes of which she’d never known.
But he’d left, leaving a gaping hole in her life, a soul-deep emptiness which haunted her to this day, and, while she’d accepted his rationale for leaving, it didn’t mean she had a desire to go back there again.
A good, sound decision. If only her body would agree, and sitting this close to him was doing serious damage to her equilibrium.
Faking a yawn, she stretched. ‘Actually, I think I’m pretty beat. I might give the movie a miss.’
He was on to her.
She could see it in the slight narrowing of his eyes, the uncharacteristic downturn of his beautiful mouth.
‘Cam, you can’t go on avoiding me for ever. We live in the same apartment, and I rarely see you.’
Reaching out, he covered her hand with his where it rested on the sofa, and she struggled not to snatch it away.
His touch on top of her wavering hormones was not a good combination, oh, no sirree.
‘What happened to hanging out as friends? Surely we can do that?’
‘Of course,’ she murmured, clamping down on the strongest urge to turn her hand palm up and intertwine her fingers with his. ‘I’ve just been super-busy, that’s all.’
He could have pushed the issue, made her confront the truth, but he was too much of a nice guy, and she knew it.
Giving a gentle tug on her hand, leaving her no option but to lean towards him, he said, ‘So you’re not running scared?’
‘Of what?’
Releasing her hand to slide his palm up her arm in a slow, sensuous caress, he bridged the short distance between them to whisper in her ear, ‘Us.’
One tiny syllable with so many connotations.
Us, as in the giddy, impulsive, head-over-heels-in-love youngsters they’d been? Or us, as in the older, wiser, more mature people they’d become?
It was the latter that scared her the most, for she’d loved Blane, a twenty-one-year-old struggling tradesman with a thirst for adventure, so what hope did she have of not falling for the sexier, more together version?
She didn’t move, savouring the sensation of his breath fanning against her cheek before he pulled away and released her arm, every cell in her body on high alert, crying out for more.
‘Let me guess. You’re going to say there is no us.’
His voice was tinged with amusement rather than rancour, and she found her mouth twitching despite the urge to deny, deny, deny just as he’d anticipated.
Shrugging, she toyed with a stray popcorn kernel that lay in her lap. ‘We’re friends, so that’s an “us” of sorts.’
‘Friends. Right.’
He didn’t believe her. He knew she was a fraud. That with every passing day it was getting harder and harder not to fall under his spell all over again.
Pushing to his feet, he rubbed his hands together as if concocting some grand Machiavellian scheme.
‘Then you won’t object to catching up as friends this weekend. After all, it’s your first weekend off in months, and I’ve been very patient and—’
‘Okay, okay, you’ve made your point.’ Grateful he’d put some much-needed distance between their bodies, she tilted her head to look up at him. ‘What did you have in mind?’
Thrusting his hands in his pockets, resulting in an eye-catching display of soft cotton pulled taut across his broad shoulders, he winked.
‘Leave it to me. Whatever I come up with, rest assured, it’ll be mighty friendly.’
Unable to stop a rueful smile spreading across her face, she watched him stride out of the room, wondering what on earth she’d got herself into now.
Blane stared at Cam as she dismounted the jet ski, the expanding tightness in his chest scaring the hell out of him.
He couldn’t be having a heart attack. He’d had his annual physical last month, and the doctor had pronounced him fit and healthy for the average twenty-seven-year-old that had spent the bulk of his life doing manual labour before trading his tools for a desk.
If his ticker was fine, the tension in the vicinity of his heart could only mean one thing. His love for his wife was expanding and growing with each passing day.
He’d never believed in the corny love-at-first-sight thing till he’d walked into that old-fashioned rundown coffee shop in Rainbow Creek, taken one look at the spiky-haired rebel with a cheeky smile and flashing cinnamon-coloured eyes serving behind the counter, and he’d been a goner. Drifting through Victoria from town to town had suited him just fine until he’d fallen head over heels for the sassy brunette with a smile that could light up a room.
Eloping might have been impulsive, reckless and downright stupid considering their age and how long they’d known each other, but he’d never regretted it, not one single day. The only thing he regretted was walking away from her, despite having her best interests at heart.
But he was through with regrets. This time, he’d give it all he had. Their marriage was worth it. She was worth it.
Oblivious to the depth of his feelings, she sent him a jaunty wave while standing in the shallows before leaning forward, twisting her hair into a tight spiral, and squeezing the water out, the sun highlighting the honey streaks in the dark molasses, creating a halo effect as she shook it out and ruffled it dry.
Halo? She was no angel that was for sure, with the constant teasing glances, the flirtatious banter, the subtle touching. Friends, she’d said. Ha! She’d been driving him crazy ever since she’d moved in, stoking his fire till he could barely think straight let alone put the finishing touches on the surprise he had lined up for her.
He’d anticipated she wouldn’t want a bar of him after he’d done a runner six years ago, and he hoped the surprise would go some way to proving how seriously committed he was to reviving their marriage.
While she might be singing the ‘let’s take it one day at a time’ tune, she was warm and spontaneous and fun as always, her actions speaking much louder than her words.
She could call their living arrangements ‘hanging out together’, but from where he stood they were testing the marriage waters and, while his sexy sceptical wife might be dipping her toes, he was ready to dive in the deep end.
Watching her jog across the sand towards him, he silently thanked whoever had invented wetsuits. The material outlined every gorgeous curve of her body. She’d filled out and then some since he’d first fallen in love with her, and her new figure had him craving his luscious wife more than ever.
Leaping to his feet, and dusting off his butt as she reached him, he thrust his hands into his pockets to stop himself from grabbing her and never letting go.
