attention, a large chunk of his soul. But his time had been split between his work and his studies, his attention was always half on Oliver, trying to anticipate trouble, and his soul had never been on offer anyway.
He’d known he’d lost her even before she’d frightened the hell out of him with that pregnancy scare. He’d panicked and reacted in comprehensive fear… throwing his pizza into the wall and storming out to get hammered. Yeah, nobody had considered awarding him a prize for his maturity.
Cale rested his forehead on the steering wheel, wincing at the memory. When he’d returned she’d waved the negative result in his face and proceeded to strip ten layers of skin off him. Her brutal rejection had been swift and non-negotiable and had left little room for hope.
Petty enough to want to punish her, he’d ignored her calls. Two weeks later, when his emotions had subsided into a dull roar and he’d had a vague plan of action for how to talk her back into bed, he’d found out that Maddie, as she’d said she would, had dropped out of his life. Nowhere to be found.
He’d been young enough, arrogant enough, to shrug her off and shove any hurt away, choosing to concentrate on his PhD, his career, his racing, revelling in his single status.
Time passed, then his twin had died from cancer, and for months it had been a sheer battle just to get through the day.
He knew intellectually that he was still grieving. He knew how the process worked, the phases he had to get through. In every death there were unresolved issues, but he had a shed-load when it came to his twin’s life—and death—and he wasn’t nearly ready to deal with them.
Psychologist heal thyself… yeah, right.
What he also knew was that depression had gone but guilt, regret and responsibility were still his constant companions.
But then, for all of his life with Oliver those three stooges had never been far away. Guilt for the utter frustration he’d frequently felt towards his reckless, completely unaccountable twin. Regret when he’d been unable to keep him from doing something that had hurt either himself or someone else, and a feeling that he was always responsible for his brother. During his life and at his death.
Oliver had been more than a rebel, more than a free spirit. On more than one occasion, when he’d been comprehensively fed up, Cale had suspected that he might be a touch psychotic.
Guilt, regret and responsibility. Grr, indeed.
He knew how to treat his clients’ hang-ups, but it was far easier for him to operate on the surface of his own life. He could meet, flirt and even have the odd sexual encounter with women. He wasn’t interested in emotional entanglements. He didn’t have the time or the energy… and even less inclination.
And he wasn’t nearly ready to be in any conceivable way responsible for another person; he’d played that song all his life and he was sick of it.
So the thrill he’d felt at meeting Maddie again was just a flashback to those crazy feelings of his youth—a reminder of a golden time in his life when he’d thought he was so clever, that he’d had life under control. He’d had no freaking idea.
What could it hurt to share a drink with Maddie?
They’d catch up, have a laugh and walk away as friends. After all, he was older and smarter, and now he knew it was when he allowed people into his head—like brothers and lovers—that life tended to become chaotic. And God knew he’d dealt with enough chaos to last a lifetime.
The trick was keeping it all under control. And he’d earned his PhD in that as well as the real one on his wall.
After living with crazy Oliver it would take more than a tawny-eyed woman to upset the equilibrium of his life.
CHAPTER TWO
MADDIE rested her arms on the railing that ran the length of the restaurant and stopped the unwary or the intoxicated from falling into the harbour. The inky, oily water lapped the wooden pylons below, and Maddie tried to concentrate on the sounds and scents of summer morphing into autumn. Her tawny eyes drifted over the marina, idly noticing that a new catamaran now occupied the berth at the end. Hadn’t Cale once dreamt of owning such a vessel?
Maddie removed the clip that kept her riotous hair off her neck and felt the heavy curls tumble down her back. The bar had quietened down and, since Dan was fully able to cope with the remaining patrons by himself, she’d called it a night.
Lord, she was tired. Even the short walk across the parking lot seemed a mission, and climbing the stairs to her third-floor flat seemed impossible. She knew she needed to rest, yet she knew that sleep—never easy—would be scarce tonight. Her mind, so used to shoving Cale into a box labelled ‘Do Not Open, Stupid,’ was skipping from memory to memory.
‘Maddie.’
Maddie turned slowly and had to smile. With the sea breeze ruffling his hair and the shadows hiding his flat, hard eyes, for a moment he looked like his old devil-may-care self.
‘Hi.’ Maddie stepped away from the railing and nodded to the empty glass and the open bottle of wine. ‘Help yourself.’
Cale picked up the bottle and dumped a healthy amount of Merlot into his glass. He lifted it in a salute and a smile pulled the corners of his mouth up. ‘She won a dinner with me at a bachelor auction. Longest three hours of my life. I saw the question in your eyes.’
‘Ah.’ Maddie’s eyes laughed at him over the rim of her own glass. ‘She’s very… um… sexy.’
‘Very… except that I’m not sure how much of it is real or out of a silicone tube,’ Cale said, placing his elbows next to hers on the railing.
She could feel the heat from his body, smell his soap, citrus and Cale-scent mixing with the brine from the sea.
Cale pointed his glass at the new catamaran and whistled. ‘What a boat.’
‘It’s new. At the marina, I mean. It docked today.’
‘It’s new in every sense. Twin screws, dual engines—obviously—and its finer bows give it a nearly forty-five-foot waterline.’
If he said so, Maddie thought, not having a clue what he was talking about. ‘I have no idea what that means,’ she admitted when he looked expectantly at her.
Cale grinned. ‘It significantly improves the up-wind and overall sailing ability of the yacht.’ He sipped his wine.
‘Didn’t you sail somewhere once?’ Maddie wrinkled her nose, trying to remember.
‘When I finished my Masters, I was sick of studying, so Oliver and I sailed a cat from here to Zanzibar. It was the start of two years of travelling. I’ve never been so physically scared or thrilled before or since—and that’s saying a lot because, well, I was Oliver’s twin.’
Mad Oliver and his many crazy escapades. ‘That is saying a lot. What happened?’
‘We hit a cyclone off the Mozambique channel. Crazy winds, crazy waves…’
‘Crazy Oliver.’
‘Yeah. He whooped
