battering, and he’d had no intention of retiring before finding out how her phone call with Diane had gone.
Her face crumpled and he held his arms open. She walked into them and he held her close—felt every breath she took as she fought for composure. He couldn’t believe how right it felt to have her there.
Not that he had any intention of getting used to it—he was being a friend, that was all—but as the scent of strawberry jam drifted around him, all he could remember was the warmth of her lips as they’d touched his this afternoon, and the rush of sweetness that had stolen through him.
Long before he was ready to let her go she stepped back, forcing him to drop his arms. ‘You didn’t have to wait up for me.’
‘Thought you could use a friend.’ He held up two beers. ‘And I thought you could use one of these.’
She eyed the beer hungrily. ‘Bad for the diet,’ she murmured.
‘To hell with the diet.’ He grabbed her hand and hauled her through the nearest set of French windows and outside into the almost cool of the night. Not that it was ever properly cool out here in December.
‘Sit.’ He pointed to the front step and handed her a beer. ‘Drink and enjoy.’
A laugh gurgled out of her. ‘Aye, aye, Captain.’
He planted himself on the step beside her. They cracked their beers open at exactly the same moment, touched them in a silent toast and then drank deeply.
With a sigh, Nicola stretched her legs out and stared up at the night sky, her face pensive. He dragged his gaze from her lips and took another pull on his beer. ‘So it was a bit rough, huh?’
‘She cried. She accused me of wanting to ruin her big day. Once she got over the initial shock she apologised, said she understood, but …’
His beer halted halfway to his mouth. ‘But?’
She glanced at him. ‘It just cemented that our friendship will never be the same again.’
Her sadness tugged at the sore spaces inside him. ‘Maybe not, but it doesn’t mean you can’t still be good friends, that you can’t enjoy each other’s company. It’ll just be different. And I promise it will get easier with time.’
She stared at her beer. ‘I guess you’re right.’
From the light that spilled from the house and the light from the stars, he could see her face clearly. The plump full promise of her lips made things inside him clench up. The question that had been burning through him since she’d landed her punch this afternoon burst free from suddenly dry lips. ‘What about Brad?’
She turned to him. ‘What about him? I didn’t speak to him, if that’s what you mean.’
But had she wanted to? Had she hoped Brad might answer the phone? Did she secretly yearn that more than her friendship with Diane could be salvaged? Did she want Brad back?
Bile rose in his throat. ‘Do you still love him?’
‘I … I still care for him as a friend. He was a big part of my life for two years.’
‘But if he came to you now and said he’d made a mistake and wanted to get back together with you, would you rush back into his arms?’
‘I used to think that’s what I wanted.’
‘But?’
She turned those glorious eyes of hers on him and everything inside him tightened up. She opened her mouth. She closed it again. And then she blinked as if she’d just realised something stupendous. ‘Heavens! It seems the sad fact of the matter is …’ she tilted her beer at him in a kind of salute ‘… is that I miss Diane more than I miss Brad.’
He stared at her.
She stared back.
Then she snorted.
He couldn’t help it. Suddenly his shoulders started to shake, and then they were both flat on their backs on the veranda laughing so hard he thought they’d wake the dead, or at the very least the rest of his family—and he knew exactly what his mother and Dee would make of this—but not even that thought could get his mirth back under control. Every time he thought he had it, she’d snigger, or he would, and they’d be off again.
Somewhere along the way her hand had found its way into his, but he didn’t know if she had initiated the contact or if he had.
He remembered the way her lips had felt on his this afternoon. His lips ached. His groin ached. Damn it, even his skin ached.
Grinning, Nicola pushed up into a sitting position. All of the reserved hardness that she’d stepped off the plane with gone. He remained where he was, his grip around her hand tightening. He wanted a repeat performance of this afternoon, craved her kiss, her touch. All he’d have to do was tug and she’d fall sprawled across his chest.
He craved to taste the laughter on her lips. He hungered to sample her sweetness once more. He ached to have the full sweet temptation of her pressed up against him.
She glanced down at him and slowly the sparkle left her eyes, the generous smile faltered and disappeared. She pulled her hand free.
Disappointment flushed through him, and something darker and more insistent. He pushed up into a sitting position too. ‘Scared?’ he taunted, though he knew that was hardly fair.
She tilted her head back and took another swig of her beer. ‘How long is it since you’ve been with a woman?’
The question took him off guard. He scowled. ‘That’s none of your damn business.’
‘And yet you’re inviting me to share your bed and your body.’
‘And you’re going to refuse and turn me down.’ He could read her as well as it seemed she could read him.
‘Sleeping with me won’t prove you’re over Fran.’
He blinked, stiffened. What the hell …?
Her eyes flashed. ‘How about you answer your own question? If Fran turned up here tomorrow and wanted to give your marriage another try, what would you do?’
He reared back as if she’d struck him. ‘That’s not going to happen.’
‘That’s the exact same answer I could’ve given you about Brad.’
She rose. His heart pounded. He didn’t speak. Couldn’t. The desire that had flooded him two seconds ago drained away.
Fran was Ella and Holly’s mother. He owed them. If Fran came back, he’d owe it to his two daughters to give the marriage another shot.
But …
His hands clenched.
‘Thanks for the beer, Cade. Goodnight.’
Nicola left and he couldn’t even manage to croak a goodnight after her.
