had no intention of letting him breach those defences. ‘Yes.’ She pulled in a breath. ‘There’s a lot of history between us, Connor.’
He nodded.
‘And I have no intention of revisiting it.’
‘History never repeats?’ he asked.
‘Something like that.’
‘For what it’s worth, I think you’re right.’ He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes on Melly. ‘It doesn’t mean you and Mel can’t be friends, though, does it?’
She blinked. ‘But you didn’t want me to…’
‘For better or worse, Melly likes you, she identifies with you.’ He met her gaze head-on. ‘But can you promise me that you won’t leave again the way you did the last time?’
‘Yes, I can promise that.’ She’d grown up since those days. ‘It’s funny, you know, but it’s nice to be back.’ She gestured to the view spread out before them. ‘I’ve missed all this. When I do get the bookshop back on its feet, I mean to come back for visits.’
She’d promised Gwen.
She’d promise Melly too.
‘I have no intention of hurting your little girl, Connor.’
‘I know that.’
She turned and stared back out at the view.
THE hunger in Jaz’s face as she stared out over the valley made Connor’s gut clench.
This was her home. She might not be ready to admit that to herself yet, but the truth was as clear to him as the nose on her face…and the fullness of her lips.
He tried to drag his mind from her lips, from thoughts of kissing her. Jaz had made her position clear—there would be no him and her again.
He didn’t know why that should make him scowl. It was what he wanted too.
No, he wanted to kiss her. He was honest enough to admit that much. But she was right. There was no future for them.
But now that she was back in Clara Falls, she shouldn’t have to leave in twelve months’ time. Not if she didn’t want to.
He thought back to Mac—the cheek kisser; Mac of the tattoo parlour. He rolled his shoulders. ‘You’re good with kids.’ Did she plan to have children of her own?
She turned back. He could tell she was trying to hold back a grin. ‘You sound surprised.’
‘Guess I’ve never really thought about it before.’ He paused. ‘You and Mac seem close.’
Her lips twisted. She all but cocked an eyebrow. ‘We are. He and his wife Bonnie are my best friends.’
He felt like a transparent fool. He rushed on before she could chide him for getting too personal. ‘What are your plans for when you return to your real life in the city?’
She blinked and he shrugged, suddenly and strangely self-conscious—like Mel in her attempts to make new friends. ‘You said that returning to run the bookshop was a temporary glitch.’
‘It is.’
She eased back on her hands, shifted so she no longer sat on her knees, so she could stretch the long length of her legs out in front of her. Without thinking, he reached out to swipe the leaves from her trouser legs.
She stiffened. He pulled his hand back with a muttered, ‘Sorry.’
‘Not a problem.’
Her voice came out all tight and strangled. Oh, yeah, there was a problem all right. The same problem there had always been between them— that heat. But it hadn’t solved things between them eight years ago and it wouldn’t solve anything now.
He just had to remember not to touch her.
‘Your plans?’ he prompted when she didn’t unstiffen.
‘Oh, yes.’ She relaxed. She waved to Melly on the slippery dip. She didn’t look at him; she stared out at the view—it was a spectacular view. He didn’t know if her nonchalance was feigned or not, but it helped ease the tenseness inside him a little— enough for him to catch his breath.
He made himself stare out at the view too. It was spectacular.
Not as spectacular—
Don’t go there.
‘I mean to open an art gallery.’
He stared at her. Every muscle in his body tensed up again. ‘An art gallery?’ An ache stretched through him. He ignored it. ‘But don’t you run a tattoo parlour?’
‘And a bookshop,’ she reminded him.
She smiled. Not at him but at something she saw in the middle distance. ‘Mac and I financed the tattoo parlour together, but Mac is the one in charge of its day-today running. I’m more of a…guest artist.’
The thought made him smile.
‘I’m pretty much a silent partner these days.’
‘Perhaps that’s what you need at the bookshop— a partner?’
She swung around. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ Then, ‘No.’ She gave a decisive shake of her head. ‘The bookshop is all I have left of my mother.’
‘And you don’t want to share?’
Her eyes became hooded. ‘It’s my responsibility, that’s all.’ She turned back to the view.
‘So the art gallery, that would be your real baby?’
She lifted one shoulder. ‘I guess.’
‘Where are planning to set it up?’
‘I’d only just started looking for premises when Mum—’
She broke off. His heart burned in sympathy.
‘I found wonderful premises at Bondi Beach.’
Despite the brightness of her voice, her pain slid in beneath his skin like a splinter of polished hardwood. He wanted to reach for her, only he knew she wouldn’t accept his comfort.
He clenched his hands. ‘Bondi?’ He tried to match her brightness.
‘Yes, but I’m afraid the rent went well beyond my budget.’
‘I bet.’ It suddenly occurred to him that the rents in the Blue Mountains weren’t anywhere near as exorbitant as those in
