he continued. ‘Remember what you said? Water under the bridge.’
‘It...it was a long time ago.’
She didn’t know what else she could say. Couldn’t face thinking of the ‘what ifs?’ Ben must have struggled with after the fire.
While he was recalling anguish and irredeemable loss, she was desperately fighting off the memories of how much fun they’d had together all those years ago.
She’d been so serious, so strait-laced, so under her father’s thumb. For heaven’s sake, she’d been old enough to vote but had never stayed out after midnight. Ben had helped her lighten up, take risks—be reckless, even. All the time knowing he’d be there for her if she stumbled.
He hadn’t been a bad boy by any means, but he’d been an exciting boy—an irreverent boy who’d thumbed his nose at her father’s old-fashioned edicts and made her question the ways she’d taken for granted. So many times she’d snuck out to meet him after dark, her heart thundering with both fear of what would happen if she were caught and anticipation of being alone with him.
How good it had felt when he’d kissed her—kissed her at any opportunity when they could be by themselves. How his kisses, his caresses, had stirred her body, awakening yearnings she hadn’t known she was capable of.
Yearnings she’d never felt as strongly since. Not even for Jason.
Saying no to going all the way with Ben that summer was one of the real regrets of her life. Losing her virginity to him would have been an unforgettable experience. How could it not have been when their passion had been so strong?
She couldn’t help remembering their last kiss—with her father about to drag her into the car—fired by unfulfilled passion and made more poignant in retrospect because she’d had no idea that it would be her last kiss from Ben.
Did he remember it too?
She searched his face, but he seemed immersed in his own dark thoughts.
Wearily, she wiped her hand over her forehead as if she could conjure up answers. Why had those kisses been printed so indelibly on her memory? Unleashed passion? Hormones? Pheromones? Was it the magic of first love? Or was it a unique power that came only from Ben?
Ben who had grown into this intense, unreadable, tormented man whom she could not even pretend to know any more.
The rain continued to fall. It muffled the sound of the cars swishing by outside the bookshop, made it seem as if they were in their own world, cocooned by their memories from the reality of everyday life in Dolphin Bay. From all that had happened in the twelve years since they’d last met.
Ben cleared his throat, leaned a little closer to her over the barrier of the counter.
‘I’m glad you told me you never got my letters, that you tried to phone,’ he said, his voice gruff. ‘I never understood how you could just walk away from what we had.’
‘Me too. I never understood how you didn’t want to see me again, I mean.’
She thought of the tears she’d wept into her pillow all those years ago. How abandoned she’d felt. How achingly lonely. Even the agony of Jason’s betrayal hadn’t come near it.
Then she forced her thoughts to return to today. To Ben’s insistence that he didn’t want her hanging around Dolphin Bay, even to help his injured aunt at a time of real need for the old lady.
It was beyond hurtful.
Consciously, she straightened her shoulders. She forced a brave, unconcerned edge to her voice. ‘But now we know the wrong my father did maybe we can forget old hurts and...and feel some kind of closure.’
‘Closure?’ Ben stared at her. ‘What kind of psychobabble is that?’
Psychobabble? She felt rebuffed by his response. She’d actually thought ‘closure’ was a very well-chosen word. Under the circumstances.
‘What I mean is...maybe we can try to be friends? Forgive the past. Forget there was anything else between us?’
She was lying. Oh, how she was lying.
While her mind dictated emotion-free words like ‘closure’ and ‘friends’ her body was shouting out that she found him every bit as desirable as she had twelve years ago. More so.
Just months ago—when she’d still had a job—she’d worked on a campaign for a hot teen surf clothing label. Ben at nineteen would have been perfectly cast in the lead male role, surrounded by adoring bikini-clad girls.
Now, Ben at thirty-one could star as a hunky action man in any number of very grown-up commercials. His face was only improved by his cropped hair, the deep tan, the slight crinkles around his eyes and that intriguing scar on his mouth. His damp shirt moulded to a muscled chest and powerful shoulders and arms.
Now they were both adults. Experienced adults. She’d been the world’s most inexperienced eighteen-year-old. What would she feel if she kissed him now? A shudder ran deep inside her. There would be no stopping at kisses, that was for sure.
‘You may be able to forget we were more than friends but I can’t,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I still find you very attractive.’
So he felt it too.
Something so powerful that twelve years had done nothing to erode it.
Her heart did that flippy thing again, over and over, stealing her breath, her composure. Before she could stutter out something in response he continued.
‘That’s why I don’t want you in Dolphin Bay.’
She gasped at his bluntness.
‘I don’t mean to sound rude,’ he said. ‘I...I just can’t deal with having you around.’
What could she say in response? For all her skill as an award-winning copywriter, she couldn’t find the right words in the face of such raw anguish. All she could do was nod.
That vein throbbed at his temple. ‘I don’t want to be reminded of what it was like to...to have feelings for someone when I can’t...don’t want to ever feel like that again.’
The pain behind his confession made her catch her breath in another gasp. It overwhelmed the brief flash of pleasure she’d felt that he still found her attractive. And it hurt that he was so pointedly rejecting her.
‘Right,’ she said.
Such an inadequate word. Woefully inadequate.
‘Right,’ she repeated. She cleared her throat. Looked anywhere but at him. ‘I hear what you’re saying. Loud and clear.’
‘I’m sorry, I—’
She put up her hand in a halt sign. ‘Don’t be. I...I appreciate your honesty.’
Her heart went out to him. Not in pity but in empathy. She had known pain. Not the kind of agony he’d endured, but pain just the same. Her parents’ divorce. Jason’s callous dumping. Betrayal by the friends who’d chosen to be on Jason’s
