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Meena Bappoo. Flat-backed on the beach, just as he’d left her. Eyes closed to the sun, as if it had been minutes since he had last seen her here rather than years. He’d nearly turned and walked away when he’d seen the Environmental Agency logo on her shirt and realised she was the agency marine biologist he was meant to be meeting. The notes that he’d received from his project manager’s schedule hadn’t mentioned her by name, only her job title and the time and location of the meeting, though it turned out that he had mixed up the date.
And then her lids had snapped open, he’d seen those warm golden-brown eyes again and he’d known he was too entranced to walk away.
Did he believe her story? Her memory loss seemed far-fetched. But sh
e hadn’t really given him a choice: he had to believe her. The way she’d looked at him was so completely blank. Surely she couldn’t have been so unmoved if she’d remembered even a moment of those few months that they’d spent together?
Because he remembered. He remembered everything. The way that she spoke, her island creole accent that he knew could slip so quickly into perfect French or her slightly American-sounding English. The way that she smelled—of salt, sand and the coconut oil that she rubbed into her skin. The way that she had looked at him after they had made love for the first time, as if they had just created the stars in the sky.
The way that he had waited for her as they’d agreed, after he had returned to Australia, and she had never shown up.
Had it been the accident? he wondered now. That would make sense, answer the questions he had been carrying around in the years since they had been together. It hit him like a blow to the chest, the thought that perhaps he had been wrong. That she had wanted to come as desperately as he had wanted it. But it didn’t hurt any less when she looked at him and didn’t see him.
He’d thought of her over the years. Thought of them. Thought of the days and the nights that they had spent on this beach. Thought of the night, years later, that he’d made the decision to buy the tiny uninhabited island of Le Bijou and build his resort. Thought of the pain that he had felt when he had been left alone, wanting her, wondering what had gone wrong. Thought of all the ways that he had tried to numb that pain, and the consequences that had spiralled out of control.
And then he couldn’t think about it any more, because the loss and grief from that time of his life was still too painful, too raw even to glance at, never mind examine more closely.
He’d come here to get over her. To face their past, bury it, landscape over the evidence and then move on. But then he’d seen her lying there, looking exactly as she had the day that he’d left her, and known immediately that it was a mistake.
But maybe the fact she didn’t remember him was a saving grace. She had no idea what they’d once shared and he had every intention of keeping things that way. He could never let her know what they had been to one another. What he had felt for her. He’d spent years trying to get over her. To shake the pain that her rejection had caused him. And he couldn’t bear to reopen those old wounds. Not now.
They were over. They had been over for a long time. She didn’t even remember that they had ever been together and, as far as he could see, that was a good thing. He wouldn’t take that away from her and replace it with the anger and bile that had built up and then been fought down over the years. If she knew what he had done—who he had become—after the last time he had left this island she could only be relieved that she had escaped him.
It was kinder to lie, he told himself, convincing himself of its truth. He had to live with what they had lost and he wouldn’t wish that on her too. Not now, when he knew that he could never again be that person he had been when they’d been together. Even though they were here on Le Bijou, they could never go back and be who they had been before.
He couldn’t risk being in a relationship again. The only time he had tried it since Meena had ended in the worst possible way, and it was something for which he would never forgive himself. There was no way that he could ever let Meena get involved with him again. She was better off without him. Better off not knowing him.
Meena turned and looked at him, and he knew he’d been caught staring. He couldn’t let that happen, he chastised himself. Couldn’t let her see what he felt for her—what he had felt for her, he corrected—those long years ago. Before she’d failed to turn up as she’d promised and confirmed what he’d always known about himself—what his parents had made clear for as long as he could remember—that he just wasn’t worth it.
She’d never let him become part of her life here on the island. Or vice versa. He’d agreed to it at the time because, more than anything, he’d just wanted her in his life and the sneaking around had felt fun at first. But he had realised, later, that she had done it on purpose, had kept their relationship separate from the rest of her life, so that when it was over she could move on.
He wouldn’t let it happen again because they were done. She had no idea they’d ever started anything in the first place and that was a blessing.
‘So I’m going to make a start on the detailed environmental impact study tomorrow,’ Meena said eventually. ‘You should have already received the initial report; this one will go into greater detail on the areas that were raised as a concern. I’ll keep you updated with the results as I progress.’
‘Do that,’ Guy replied shortly, wanting this meeting at an end. ‘I need those permissions in place as soon as possible if I’m going to keep to my schedule.’ And he would be keeping to his schedule and leaving as quickly as possible. If his usual project manager hadn’t broken his thigh bone in a nasty jet-ski accident, Guy wouldn’t have had to take this meeting. He would have been on the island and off again within a couple of days, leaving everything in the capable hands of his team. It was the only way that he had been able to contemplate being back here at all, to minimise the risk of accidentally bumping into Meena. Now he was faced with the prospect of managing this himself, for the foreseeable future at least, and that meant managing Meena. Or trying to. He couldn’t think that he had ever been successful at it before.
‘Well, don’t think I will rush it,’ Meena said right on cue, confirming his fears of how this working relationship was going to proceed. ‘There are reefs on this side of the island and the coral is very vulnerable. It’s my responsibility to make sure that the environment isn’t harmed by your building developments here, and I’m not going to cut corners. If you want to build here, you have to take care of the island first.’
He gritted his teeth, knowing that his tension was probably showing on his face. But why hide it? She didn’t care what he was thinking. He was nothing to her. A stranger.
‘I understand that—I think my plans have made reasonable provisions for the environment, so there should be no hold-ups. I will be following your work closely.’
She bristled at that, crossing her arms and fixing him with a glare. Good. He could handle her like this. He could handle angry. Angry was nothing like what he remembered between them. Angry didn’t bring back memories that still—somehow—had the power to hurt him. Well, not for much longer. Once his plans were under way, this island would no longer be recognisable. Would no longer call to him. Would no longer be the yardstick by which he unconsciously measured his experiences and his relationships. Of course, no real woman could live up to an island fantasy, a summer romance with a beautiful girl while he’d been on holiday, barely into his twenties.
‘Where are you going to start with your report?’ he asked, trying to read her notes upside down. But her notes were in French. A language he had started to learn once—with scribbled love notes—here, with her—but had fallen out of using. Another very good reason he had hired a capable project manager to oversee this development. As soon as he got off this tiny island and back to the capital, he would be instructing his assistant, Dev, to find a temporary replacement for his injured project manager.
‘I need to inspect the reef,’ Meena said, checking her list. ‘Many of the ones nearby have suffered from coral bleaching or damage from boats, and my initial look showed that these reefs appeared to be suffering similarly. At the very least we would need to do any remedial work before building is approved and make a plan for how it can be protected from further human damage. My other main concern is the turtle population. I saw tracks on the beach that indicate there may be a nesting site. We need to wait out the incubation period to see what, if anything, hatches, and to ensure that increased use of the beach won’t impact on breeding or migratory patterns.’
He nodded, wondering how much time this was all going to take. But these were details, and he was no longer the details guy. He was the money and he was the vision. One of the joys of being the boss of your own multi-billion-dollar resort business was letting someone else worry about the bloody turtles.
‘I’m sure your report will be fine, Miss Bappoo. Just submit your findings to my office and someone will be in touch.’
He turned away from her but then stopped, his feet halting in the sand. Was this it? Was it all finally going to end with a glib remark about turtles? With Meena having no idea that they had met before today? He turned back and looked at her. Really looked. He saw pink rise in her cheeks at his unmasked appraisal of her.
Seven years. That was how long it had been since he had seen her. And yet he couldn’t see any sign of it on her face. Her cheeks, rosy beneath the warm bronze-brown of her skin, were still the smooth apples that he remembered. Her eyes were as golden and as full of challenge as they had been then.
What would she think of him, he wondered, if she remembered the man—boy—he had been? Would she find him much changed? His body was no softer—he had worked hard to ensure that. His heart, however, was harder—she was responsible for that. He shook his head. That wasn’t fair. He couldn’t entirely blame her for the way he had behaved after they had broken up. He had to carry that alone.
