were very easy to be kind to, Christine,” Julanne responded, remembering how Christine had been virtually ignored while all the love and attention was focused on her brother Kyall. “So you’ll come? I’m starved for some colour and excitement. Think of all the stories you can tell me.”
“Some stranger than fiction,” Christine only half joked. “Well, then, it’s a date—and thank you for always being so nice to me. Give me a little time to sort out an agenda and I’ll let you know.”
“Mitch can come for you,” Julanne suggested, never having given away her dream that some day her son and Christine Reardon would patch up their differences and make a match of it. After all, for many long years they’d been a perfect circle of four. Mitch and Christine. Kyall and Sarah.
“Mitch can do what?” There was challenge, maybe an edge of animosity beneath the silken enquiry.
She steeled herself to turn around, tension showing in every line of her body. Earlier in the day she had known moments of pure exultation when they’d first come face to face. They might never have been parted; her attraction had been running at full throttle and she’d found herself remembering all the wonderful times, the bad times, full of shouting and tears. Now, heart thumping, she looked steadily into the compelling eyes that had haunted her. “Your mother will tell you, Mitch. I fear I don’t dare.” He looked absolutely marvellous to her, even with his bronze brows drawn together.
“That’s not the Christine I knew. She wasn’t scared to say anything.”
It was out in the open. Cold war.
Julanne felt it like a stiff breeze. She took her son’s arm in her cajoling fashion. “Mitch, darling, I’ve asked—no, begged—Christine to visit us while she’s home. There’s so much for us all to catch up on.”
“That’d be great,” Mitch said in a honeyed drawl. “I suppose.”
“You don’t sound too sure?”
He pretended to think a moment. “Of course we’d love to have you, Chrissy. It’s been so very long. But we’ll take no notice of that. I suppose you’re keen to get back to the Big Apple. And that guy—what’s his name?” He made his tone admiring.
“I don’t have a guy,” Christine retorted with determined cheerfulness, recognising the taunt. How could she when the same old feelings for Mitch were smashing through her? Wave after wave of white-water thrills, going deeper and deeper into her body, leaving her feeling shaky and so vulnerable. Mitch had always been good for that. Wonderful, glorious thrills.
Now he smiled affectionately at his mother. “Let’s refresh your memory. What’s his name, Mum? You showed me his picture in some magazine.”
“Oh, sure. I know. Ben Savage,” Christine cut in, before Julanne could answer. “I don’t see Ben any more.”
“That’s sad. What happened?” He faced her, neatly trapping her gaze.
“None of your business, Mitch.”
He gave her a slow smile, dangerous, taunting. “Except there was something familiar about the guy…”
“The first thing that drew me to him was his resemblance to you.”
“Hell, I would have thought it was enough to condemn him!” The tension between them was mounting so quickly it was monstrous, nearly physical, startling them all.
“Ah, Mitch.” Christine gently moaned, she felt so bad. “Ben’s very nice. Just like the character he plays. Warm, caring, comforting.”
His eyes rested compulsively on the small velvety beauty spot high up on her right cheekbone. He’d always loved it. Nothing had changed, however much he wanted it. His heart, for all its loneliness and isolation hadn’t frozen over. “Then why the break-up?” he asked.
“When I figure it out you’ll be the first to know.”
“I’d appreciate that, Chrissy.”
“Listen, children,” Julanne intervened hurriedly, flustered by the frozen sparks, “be nice to each other. You’re friends, not enemies. I’ll leave you to say goodbye. Please be in touch, Christine.”
“I’ll call you,” Christine promised, very nervous now that Julanne had moved away.
Mitch laughed sardonically in his throat. “Some day Mum’s going to wake up to the fact we’re not kids any more. No longer girlfriend and boyfriend heading towards the altar.”
“Mothers do that all the time. Some mothers,” she added, reflecting for a minute on her own. “What about you, Mitch? How have you managed to stay a bachelor?”
“I get offers all the time,” he said flippantly.
“Have you any idea why?”
Even her voice, with its acquired layer of American accent, glittered. Just like the old days whenever he’d rattled her. “Touché!” He gave a short laugh. “I want you to know I’ll reject any offer of yours.”
“You sound like you’re expecting me to make one.”
“Believe me, I’m considered eligible and you’re not getting any younger. Must be about time to have thoughts of settling down, Chrissy. You can’t stay a top model permanently. I make it you’ll be thirty in two years’ time.”
“Did you get my card for your thirtieth?” She’d been in London at the time, for an important shoot.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Stupid me. I must have forgotten to send it.”
“Chrissy, darling, that’s bloody obvious. Hard to believe we were once best friends. I’d say lovers, only I’d bite off my tongue.”
“I haven’t forgotten, Mitch,” she said quietly, her blue eyes finding his.
“Please!” His voice had a contemptuous lilt. “Spare me the long poignant look. I’m Mitch, remember? The poor fool who used to love you? For years I couldn’t seem to stop, but eventually the heart sickens.” He could have kicked himself; it had come out way too bitterly. “I was the one left broken up, Chrissy. I figure you got what you always wanted. To be someone.”
She looked away from his taut, exciting face. The old Mitch had been so sweet, so carefree. “If you feel this bad I shouldn’t visit.”
He responded with a decided edge in his voice. “Listen, Chris, we might hate each other, but Mum loves you, and my mother is very dear to me. If she wants you to visit, I want you to visit. I swear I’ll be on my best behaviour, no matter how great the effort.”
“That might present a few problems.” Even so she knew nothing would stop her.
“A dilemma.” His agreement came swiftly.
“And to think I brought you home a present.” She had searched for something to please him.
“I swear I won’t open it.”
“Then
