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Barwon Heads reminded her of Rainbow Creek, from the few old men making desultory small talk over cigarettes as they loitered around the rusty anchor in the town’s sole park, to the curious glances locals cast their way when he stopped for gas.
And considering they’d first met in Rainbow Creek, it didn’t take a genius to figure out he may be trying to take a trip down memory lane.
Not a bad thing entirely, when she’d enjoyed every moment she’d spent in her errant husband’s company to date, and this weekend would prove no exception. The kicker lay in the facther intentions to tread softly had flown out the window since the first time they’d kissed in his penthouse and she hadn’t been able to recover her equilibrium since.
It was getting harder to hold him off, to pretend like they were getting reacquainted as friends, and not falling deeper with every passing day.
“Chardonnay or Shiraz?”
She turned away from the wooden balcony and the panoramic view of the tiny town laid out before them. “Chardonnay would be lovely. Thanks.”
“Coming right up.”
He tipped a finger to his head in a salute before padding back into the kitchen, his bare feet barely making a sound against the old wooden boards.
Sighing, she leaned against the balcony, propping on her elbows, wondering if there was such a thing as happily ever after.
Was she crazy to consider giving their marriage a second chance after what she’d been through first time around? And what she’d have to tell him if she was mad enough to give in to him?
Damned if she knew.
What she did know was the heady attraction zinging between them since the first moment they’d met hadn’t waned. If anything, it had intensified, the underlying heat needing little to burst into a raging conflagration of yearning and passion.
Not that he was pushing her, far from it. Blane was categorically the nicest guy she’d ever met. Not to mention handsome in a rough-around-the-edges way she adored, funny, smart, thoughtful…throw in courteous and respectful, add some newly acquired chef skills, and she was in serious trouble.
Saying she had no interest in resurrecting their marriage was a load of BS and she knew it.
To make matters worse, she’d agreed to spend the night. Not a big deal in itself, considering they’d been living together for the last month, but somehow, being housemates where they were both so busy with their respective businesses they rarely saw each other was completely different to this.
A weekend away, he’d said after she’d laughed off his fumigating excuse, time out from her busy schedule to kick back with no strings attached, and she’d foolishly agreed.
It had seemed so simple saying yes over an espresso at the end of a long, tiring day when her body ached and her mind fogged, his offer just the thing for a workaholic who hadn’t had a day off in over a year.
However, now they were here at his mate’s holiday house after an incredibly fun afternoon at the beach, reality hit.
They’d be in each other’s company twenty-four-seven, without the excuse of work or meetings or late night trading to hide behind. Not that she’d been avoiding him exactly; business at theNichehad been manic, she’d had regular meetings with the new project manager at her apartment to ensure everything ran smoothly and on time, and some of her staff had caught a flu bug and she’d had to do some serious roster juggling.
However, it had been late at night, when she’d fall into bed, that she’d been all too aware of him sleeping across the hall from her, so close…so tantalizingly close…
Now here she was, sharing meals and memories with him, precious snapshots imprinted on her brain to be flicked through at will, and the self-imposed barriers she’d erected between them could come crashing down. Then what?
She didn’t stand a chance holding him off.
“Right, here you go, one chilled Chardonnay and a seafood platter for two.”
“Thanks.”
She took the ice-cold glass from him and gulped the wine, the refreshing bite of the Hunter Valley grapes loosening her throat that had constricted at the thought of taking a risk of this magnitude.
With impeccable manners as always, he drew out a chair for her. “You better take it easy with that stuff. If my memory serves correct, you had two sips of champers on our honeymoon night and it went straight to your head.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining.”
They locked gazes, hot, smoldering, instantly transported back to a time they’d been ecstatically happy and totally free of responsibility, a time when it had been the two of them so wrapped up in each other they’d been ready to tackle the world head on.
But that time had passed, the opportunity for the Blane and Cam team lost.
Or was it?
