AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Kicking the lid of the basket closed, he shoved it under his arm and glanced at the grey clouds that had covered the sun. ‘We better get back to the palazzo—it’s going to rain.’
She looped her arm through his as they walked back, but she could already feel him slipping away. And felt powerless to do anything about it—the fresh citrus scent of the lemon orchard a cruel reminder of the short-lived new Eva.
He made love to her that night, bringing her to orgasm countless times, and taking his own pleasure with ruthless efficiency, the seduction brutal and relentless as if to prove that sex was all he had ever wanted—until she fell into an exhausted sleep.
She woke groggy and sore the next morning to find him gone—and opened the note sitting on the dresser with trembling fingers.
Stay sweet, Eva. And go find one of the good guys.
And then she sobbed as if her foolish romantic heart were shattering.
Because it was.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
‘HEY, what’s the matter, man? Something wrong with the beer?’
Nick tuned out the comment from his publicist Jay, his gaze locked on the tall, willowy blonde standing on the other side of the art gallery. He’d recognised her as soon as she’d walked in a minute ago.
Eva’s friend, Tess… Something. He’d been to three different openings at this godforsaken gallery in the last six weeks, ever since he’d returned to San Francisco, and he had never admitted to himself the reason why he kept coming back here.
But the miserable truth was suddenly staring him in the face with startling clarity. Because as soon as Eva’s friend had appeared, his heartbeat had rocketed into his throat—just as it did every night when he struggled to fall asleep in his empty bed, or when he switched on his computer only to spend the rest of the day staring at a blank screen.
He hadn’t got over Eva. Hadn’t been able to forget her. Because even the most tenuous link to her made him feel like crap.
‘Hey, Earth to Nick,’ Jay said, swinging his palm in front of Nick’s eyes.
Nick passed the lukewarm beer to his publicist. ‘Hold this,’ he said, ignoring Jay’s puzzled frown as he headed through the crowd.
Sweat popped out on his forehead and made his hands feel clammy. He ignored it.
This wasn’t a big deal. He wasn’t going to make it a big deal. Maybe all he really needed was closure? Something he’d denied himself by not saying goodbye to Eva properly. And here was the perfect opportunity. He could have a quick chat with Eva’s friend, just to see how Eva was doing. And then he’d finally be able to stop thinking about her. Every damn second, of every damn day. And every damn night.
He’d waited patiently for her to contact him. To ask him to come back. But it had been six weeks, and she hadn’t. So he had to let it go now.
As he approached the woman he formulated the best way to introduce himself casually in case she didn’t remember him. But then she lifted her head, laughing at something her friend had said, and spotted him.
The laugh died on her lips and her eyes narrowed sharply as he stopped in front of her.
‘Well, if it isn’t the playboy screenwriter,’ she said.
He frowned at the outright hostility in her tone. Seemed she remembered him all right. ‘The name’s Nick.’
‘I know your name.’ She flicked a derisive glance over him that had his temper prickling. ‘Although I can think of several other names which would suit you better.’
‘Have you got a problem with me?’ To hell with polite introductions. He’d hardly slept in close to two months, his writing had been shot to hell, and now he was getting the third degree from someone he barely knew. What was up with that?
She glared back. ‘You treated the kindest, sweetest, most genuine woman I know as your personal plaything. Then dumped her like she was nothing. So yes, we do have a problem.’
‘What are you talking about?’ His voice cracked, the shock at her attack nothing compared to the emotion banding around his chest.
That wasn’t the way it had happened at all. He’d done the decent thing. He’d had no claim on Eva and very little to offer her. So he’d walked away. And left it up to her. Even though it had nearly killed him. Was still killing him. He deserved a damn medal.
‘Don’t you get it?’ She fired the words at him. ‘You destroyed her, you creep. She cried over you for weeks. And she never cries.’ The girl’s diatribe washed over him as temper gave way to regret and confusion. If she’d felt that much for him, why hadn’t she contacted him?
He’d given her a choice. Why hadn’t she taken it?
‘But the good news is,’ the girl continued, her eyes boring into him, ‘she’s over you now. She’s met a great guy. And he treats her right.’
