had her passport in her handbag. Which left her with nothing to do but wait, and nerves started to churn in her stomach. They had nothing to do with flying, because she was well used to it. Nor was it due to the fact that she was travelling with Roarke, for she had done that countless times too. No, the nerves were due to the fact she hated waiting. Waiting gave her time to think, and her thoughts were rarely pleasant.
She had learned to keep herself busy, to always have something on hand in which to engross herself, but she couldn’t do that now because Roarke was due any minute. She paced to the window of her flat and stared down at the road, but no car was pulling up. Where was he?
The silent question triggered a memory, and she could see herself looking out of the window of that grotty bedsit, waiting for Mark to come home so she could tell him her news. He had never come. Instead he had abandoned her to a terrifying future which had ultimately led to tragedy. She had waited that night, too. Alone in the dark, in pain.
‘No!’ With a low moan Ginny spun round, closing out the thoughts. She wouldn’t go there. Not again.
The sound of the intercom buzzing made her jump, but it was closely followed by a sense of relief. He was here. She crossed to the intercom.
‘Hello?’
‘It’s Roarke,’ his disembodied voice informed her.
‘Top floor, on the right,’ she directed him, pressing the door release. She just had time to catch him muttering, ‘It would be, wouldn’t it!’
Ginny went to the door to meet him. To her eyes he didn’t look the least bit out of breath when he reached her.
‘Hasn’t anyone ever thought of installing a lift?’ he complained, and she shook her head at him.
‘It’s only three floors.’
‘But six flights,’ he was quick to point out.
‘Quit complaining. You’re the fittest man I know,’ Ginny responded dryly. She knew for a fact that he worked out regularly, and though she had never seen it, she suspected there wasn’t a spare ounce of flesh on the whole of his body.
‘Remind me never to come to you for sympathy,’ Roarke muttered as he glanced around. ‘Is this it?’ he asked, pointing to her single case.
Ginny nodded. ‘It’s all I shall need for a few days,’ she confirmed, though she was well aware she had packed too much.
Roarke hefted her case and laughed. ‘My mother never travels with less than thirty pieces of luggage.’
Ginny couldn’t imagine having the clothes to fill them. ‘Think about the excess she must have to pay!’ she exclaimed in amazement.
‘Think of the pandemonium that arises every time she thinks a piece is missing!’ Roarke countered sardonically, and Ginny winced.
‘Ouch. Does that happen often?’
‘Nearly every time. You see, life has to be a drama for her. She’s the prima donna to end all prima donnas. It wouldn’t surprise me if my sister is marrying this man just to get away from our mother,’ he declared outrageously.
‘Oh, but surely she loves him,’ Ginny protested, uneasy at the idea that any woman would do such a thing.
Roarke shrugged indifferently. ‘She probably thinks she does.’
‘Thinks she does?’ Ginny challenged as she pulled the door closed behind her and checked it was securely shut.
Roarke started down the stairs. ‘Caroline is very much like our mother. She can convince herself of anything. If she wants to get away from Mother’s influence, she could well have convinced herself she loves this guy.’ He took time out to shoot her a mocking glance over his shoulder. ‘You might have gathered that relationships aren’t our thing. Caro’s a brilliant flautist, but emotionally she’s caught in the fallout of our parents’ broken relationships like the rest of us. I give this marriage a fifty-fifty chance at best.’
Having reached the ground, Roarke held the door open for her. ‘You don’t expect it to last?’ Ginny asked as she walked outside.
Taking her arm, Roarke guided her to where he had parked his car. ‘None of the others have, so the odds are against it.’
‘Which is why you aren’t even going to attempt a proper marriage,’ she pronounced, and Roarke grinned at her over the boot before closing it with a solid thunk.
‘Got it in one.’
He helped her into the car, but there was very little time for talking as the traffic that evening was heavier than usual. In fact, they only just made it to the airport in time, and their flight had already been called. Ginny didn’t have time to catch a breath until they were in the air and the seat belt sign went out.
‘There’s nothing like a frantic last-minute dash to set you up for the weekend,’ Roarke drawled sardonically as he made himself comfortable in the spacious first class seats.
‘I look at it this way, things can only get better,’ Ginny responded lightly.
He laughed. ‘Don’t you believe it. You haven’t spent any time with my family before.’
Ginny frowned at him. ‘Nobody can be as bad as the picture you’re painting,’ she argued, though she knew full well that they could be as cold and unforgiving as an arctic winter. ‘Your grandfather is always a gentleman.’
‘True,’ Roarke agreed easily. ‘He’s one member of the family I’d do anything for. Unfortunately, he won’t be there. Pressure of work, he told me, but I think he just doesn’t want to run into my mother. They don’t see eye to eye on anything.’
The affection in his voice when he spoke of his grandfather caused Ginny to look at him curiously. ‘So there’s one human being you do care about. You aren’t quite the lost cause you like to make out. Why do you hide it?’
Roarke glanced round at her, a mocking smile back on his lips. ‘Wait till you meet the family. Then, if you’re half as smart as I think you are, you’ll understand.’
Ginny looked away, fixing her attention on the view from the window. She wasn’t sure she wanted to meet any of his family. Then a small smile tweaked at her lips. Well, they were the Adams family, so what else could she expect?
‘What’s so funny?’ Roarke enquired, and Ginny, who hadn’t realised she was smiling, hastily composed her features.
‘Private joke,’ she murmured with a shrug, hoping to put him off asking further, which it did, but only set him off in another unexpected direction.
After giving her a doubtful look, as if he had guessed what she was thinking, he said, ‘So what about your family? They can’t be as gruesome as mine.’
It was an automatic response for Ginny to tense, though she had battled hard to feel nothing over the years. She tensed because the memories were as painful as they had ever been. Try as she might not to care, she knew in her heart of hearts that she always would.
‘I have no family,’ she told him shortly, knowing she sounded far too abrupt, which would
