slowly turned back to him, her face guarded. ‘You want my firstborn in return?’
Frustration ripped at him. He was screwing this up. Royally. ‘Don’t leave, Aimee.’
She stood like the proverbial salt pillar, indecision etched into her expression. So he battled on. Risked exposing his true self. ‘Your rescue was not business as usual—though it should have been. I don’t know what that means, and I don’t want to read into it, and I absolutely don’t want to do anything about it.’ He sucked in a breath, and the people at the next table abandoned their efforts to not listen in. ‘But you of all people asking me about my marriage was just too …’
He ran out of courage. And words. And air.
Her handbag slipped off her shoulder and she twisted the strap in her hands. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’
‘No. Not at all.’ But, yes, he really did. Aimee Leigh was the last person he should want to talk about his marriage with, but just then she was also the only person he could imagine talking about it with.
‘All right.’ She collected the handbag in front of her. Its next stop was surely back on her shoulder and swinging out through the door.
Suddenly all his priorities shrank down to just one simple one: keeping Aimee in this café. ‘But I don’t want us to part like this, either. I’m sorry for snapping. I’m … not used to talking about my personal life.’
She smiled, and it was so full of sorrow she might not have bothered. ‘No. I think we should quit while we’re ahead. I’ll pretend you never answered as you did if you’ll pretend I never asked what I did.’
‘Make-believe works for you?’ He hoped so, if it meant her last memory of him wasn’t his being an ass.
The handbag was up and on her shoulder now. ‘Let’s both agree to try.’
She was turning, and he missed her already. ‘What about your book?’ It was desperate, but if it kept her here …
She paused, but didn’t turn back. She looked at him over her shoulder. ‘Maybe another time. Bye, Sam.’
‘I’ll hold you to that!’ he called as she moved decisively through the door.
And then she was gone.
Again.
This time it was his fault.
THE universe wanted her to resolve this, clearly.
If it didn’t, it would have left well enough alone and allowed her to just walk out of that café and never see Sam Gregory again outside of her dreams. Now here he was, in the rock-hard flesh, leaning casually on the counter of the airport coffee lounge with his back to her, wearing a light, earthy sweater and sinfully snug jeans.
Her throat tightened just slightly. It had to be a bad thing that she knew him so instantly from behind.
The weeks of separation hadn’t done a thing to scrub him from her mind. If anything the passage of time had only exaggerated him in her subconscious. And six days of anticipation since she’d agreed to the State Government’s request hadn’t helped her to be ready for this moment.
If anything they’d made it worse.
She stopped just a few safe feet from him, suppressed her natural urge to get closer, and took a deep, confident breath. ‘Sam.’
Nothing.
She stared at his oblivious back. His broad shoulders shifted just slightly and his right foot tapped on the edge of the counter’s kick-bar. She caught a flash of a white wire poking from his ear.
Was he … dancing?
While her stomach ate itself from the inside? Clearly this wasn’t as big a deal for him.
She cleared her throat and laid her fingers on his warm bicep to get his attention.
He jerked with surprise, then turned and smiled at her, yanking earphones from his ears. He quieted the tinny tsss-tsss with the press of a button in his pocket.
Warm eyes rained down on her and her stomach tumbled in on itself. ‘You came. I wasn’t convinced you’d actually show up.’
She almost hadn’t. Should she be trusted with Sam on an interstate flight? Spending her days in close confines with him? Staying in the same hotel? He hadn’t got any worse smelling since she’d last seen him, and the texture of his sweater screamed touch me.
She tucked her hands behind her back before she experimented to see if the front of it was as soft as the back. ‘Your department was responsible for saving my life and it cost them a lot in equipment and manpower. Coming along on this promotional tour is the least I can do to repay them.’
Even if it put her heart at significant risk.
He took her carry-on bag from her and turned for the check-in area. ‘Apparently we made quite a splash with the public that day in Canberra. My boss’s boss wanted this.’
‘You didn’t?’
He chuckled. ‘More time in the spotlight? No, thanks.’ Then his eyes found hers. ‘But I’m not sorry I get to see you again. I hope to handle myself a bit better this time around.’
Aimee frowned. Straight back into awkward territory. Oh, well, since they were already here … She took a quiet breath and asked as casually as she could, ‘Melissa not with you?’
Was it wrong that she wanted him to say yes almost as much as she hoped he’d say no? Having his wife along would solve an awful lot of problems.
‘Ah … Three days away from work is more than she could swing. Some imminent breakthrough on an ice shelf project.’
‘A what?’
‘She works for the Australian Antarctic Division. She’s been studying fracture patterns in ice shelves.’
He’d said Melissa was smart. Foolishly, she hadn’t believed him. She’d thought it was just what people said about their spouses. ‘At least I can bring my work with me. Transcription goes wherever I do.’ She looked around anxiously for inspiration. ‘So … We’ll be talking to schools?’
Talking to schoolkids was another tick in the pro column for coming along: the opportunity to share what she’d discovered about herself during that twenty-four hours on the mountainside. She’d needed quite a few ‘pros’ to outweigh the big three-lettered ‘con’ scrawled in the other column.
S.A.M.
‘I think so. And some Victorian volunteer groups. Their Parks and Search and Rescue services are separate up there.’
‘So this is about more than just publicity?’
‘Not
