Читать книгу The Billionaire's Baby - Nicola Marsh - Страница 7
ОглавлениеCHAPTER TWO
‘WHAT? You’ve seen me eat chocolate before.’
‘Not with such gusto. It’s cute.’
Camryn waved her fork in the air, enjoying this way too much. Not just the death by chocolate sampler platter, which was to die for, but the easygoing camaraderie that had sprung up between her and Blane with little effort.
She’d been determined to discuss business, scoff down her chocolate and bolt out the door. Instead, they’d made desultory small talk over hot mochas, loosened up through sensational almond biscotti and were presently at the comfortable ‘let’s sit back, relax and avoid any potential mine-fields’ stage.
‘So what you’re really saying is I’m a pig.’
He shook his head and dug his fork into a massive wedge of mud cake. ‘You’re trying to get me into trouble.’
‘Am I?’
She sent him her best innocent smile and forked another mouth-watering, melt-on-her-tongue, divine piece of choc-orange mousse cake into her mouth.
‘Oh, yeah.’
He couldn’t take his eyes off her, and, rather than being disconcerted, she was enjoying the attention way too much.
‘From where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re already in trouble.’
Big trouble, the kind of trouble that couldn’t be explained away no matter how hard he tried or what he said.
Yet the longer she sat here, more relaxed than she’d been in ages, she couldn’t summon up the animosity his actions of six years ago deserved.
Shoving more cake into her mouth, she flicked her tongue out to catch a crumb clinging to her top lip, the spark of excitement in his eyes as they riveted to her mouth sending heat streaking through her body in a way she hadn’t experienced since…for ever.
After a long, loaded moment he blinked, his eyes crinkling with the smile never far from his face.
‘Look, I know you want to talk about your renovations and that’s probably the only reason you agreed to meet me here, and I promise you we will talk business later, but now I’ve buttered you up with your favourite food, I want to tell you what this is all about.’
Just like that, the smooth chocolate mousse solidified into an indigestible lump in her stomach.
What was she doing, play-acting as if everything was fine and she was on some kind of date?
Blane was her husband.
Who she hadn’t seen in six long years.
She should be grilling him, not noticing the sexy new grooves bracketing his mouth, the laugh-lines that had multiplied around those striking eyes, and his penchant for rubbing the back of his neck when she put him on the spot.
‘If you’ve softened me up with chocolate, what you have to say must be pretty bad.’
It had better be, for she’d accept nothing less than a catastrophe on the scale of Melbourne City Council shutting down every café in the Docklands as an excuse for what he’d done to her.
He held his hand out, and it wavered in a so-so gesture. ‘Considering I’ve spent the last six years thinking about you, wondering if I did the right thing, wishing there’d been some other way, I don’t think it’s all bad.’
‘Let me be the judge of that.’
She sat back and folded her arms, resisting the urge to hug them around her middle for what scant comfort she could get.
His smile faded, and, crazily, irrationally, she missed it. He’d rarely been serious when they’d first met, making her laugh every chance he’d got, and it looked as if nothing had changed. Ever since he’d waltzed into the café a few hours ago he’d been smiling, which explained why she could barely think straight.
His smile had been her undoing in the past— that and his boyish charm, his sensitivity, his warmth, his passion…
Gulping a healthy lungful of air to ease the pain in her chest, she tried to focus before she did something crazy—like tell him it didn’t matter where he’d been or why as long as he’d come back.
‘Go ahead, tell me. Give it to me straight, I’m a big girl, I can take it.’
Regret clouded his eyes as he reached across and held out his hand, silently imploring her to take it. But she couldn’t. Not if she wanted to remain detached long enough to hear him out and put an end to this unwise evening.
‘I need you to understand why I left.’
‘So you can ease your conscience?’
He withdrew his hand, folding his arms in a posture mirroring hers, sadness ageing him beyond his twenty-seven years.
‘This isn’t about making me feel better.’
‘Then what’s it about?’
He pinned her with a direct stare, his eyes steely pewter in the soft candlelight from a corny red-heart tea-light burning low in the centre of the table.
‘Us.’
Camryn swallowed the lump of emotion lodged in her throat. How could one tiny word hold so much pain, so many memories?
Us.
Cam and Blane against the world.
Young, impetuous, with the world at their feet, dreams to follow, places to be. Fun to be had, life to be lived to the fullest, the two of them egging each other on, the exhilarating surge of love a maelstrom that propelled them straight into marriage before they could catch their breath.
Whether sharing a quiet cappuccino at the end of a working day, streaking towards the creek to see who’d jump in first, or hiking to the top of nearby Rainbow Mountain for some private canoodling time or dashing after the first daisy he’d plucked for her as it swirled away on a warm summer’s breeze, it had been the two of them, laughing so hard they could barely catch their breath, loving so fiercely and vividly and profoundly.
It had been like that right from the very beginning, the impetuous, precipitous, thrilling rush of loving this man.
The breathtaking high of being a couple ready to take on the world together, to the lowest of lows as she’d plummeted into the depths of despair when he’d left.
Blinking to stave off the sting of tears, she focused on a single crumb lying rather pathetically in her lap, all on its own. Just like her.
Great. Now she was comparing herself to cake crumbs.
This wasn’t a good idea. She needed to get out of here before she broke down in front of him, showing him exactly how much he still affected her.
He must have anticipated her urge to bolt because he rushed on. ‘Those three months in Rainbow Creek were the best of my life. You were the best thing to ever happen to me.’
Her gaze snapped up to his, harsh and accusatory. ‘Then why did you leave?’
He had the grace to look aggrieved. ‘Because we were too young. Because we would’ve changed and grown apart. Because I wondered if you really loved me or were using me as an escape route out of town and a way to rebel against your parents. But mostly because you would’ve put your dreams on hold for mine and I couldn’t live with that. You deserved better.’
‘What?’
She shook her head, trying to clear it.
She could have sworn he’d just said he’d left because of her, as if he’d been doing her some great favour. Of all the lousy, stupid excuses…
‘You left because of me?’
Her blood boiled, and she slammed her hands palm down on the table. Bad move. It gave him the opportunity to reach out and cover one of her hands with his, his soothing touch too warm, too comfortable.
But she didn’t shrug him off. She couldn’t, because somehow with that one touch he’d broken something inside her, some inner reserve of animosity she’d been harbouring against him ever since he’d walked out of Rainbow Creek.
And she didn’t want to resent him or be bitter or harbour any grudges. She wanted a real, honest-to-goodness explanation, a reason that would finally set her free so she could move on.
‘Cam, look at me.’
He squeezed her hand gently and she gnawed on her bottom lip, blinking furiously.
She wouldn’t cry in front of him. She couldn’t, for she had a feeling once the flood gates opened she’d cry enough tears to fill Port Phillip Bay.
Taking a deep breath, she raised her eyes to meet his, her heart clenching at the sincerity blazing in his.
‘I was selfish in marrying you. I wanted you so badly I was blinded to anything else. You were only nineteen, for goodness’ sake, and had spent your whole life in that small town. I took advantage of you.’
He rubbed his free hand over his face but it did little to wipe the anguish off his face. ‘We were practically kids. And eloping? Blowing off your parents? Going against their wishes? What were we thinking?’
‘I married you because I wanted to,’ she said, her voice tremulous, and she swallowed several times to stop it cracking completely. ‘You were my world.’
Pain, deep and irreversible, flickered in his eyes, turning them stormy pewter as he gripped onto her hand as if he’d never let go.
‘Same here, sweetheart, same here. But you wanted to follow me, hit the road to goodness knows where while I scrounged for work, when you had your own dreams to follow.’
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the café next door. ‘There’s your dream right there. You wanted to live in the big city and run your own place; you’ve done it. And that’s great. You couldn’t have done that if you’d traipsed around with me to the ends of the earth and back. I couldn’t let you do it.’
Something niggled in the back of her mind, something about her parents, but she ignored it for now, needing to concentrate long enough to make sense of what he’d just said, to absorb the emotional impact of it all.
For there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Blane meant every word he said, that he truly believed he’d done the right thing.
But at what cost? Her heart? The wonderful life they could have had together?
‘You couldn’t let me?’
She shook her head, hoping she could get through this without dissolving into a teary mess.
‘It was my choice to make. Mine, not yours. At the very least we should’ve discussed it…’ She trailed off as a light bulb flashed in her mind, illuminating what she’d been trying to put her finger on a few moments ago. ‘How did you know I was going against my parents’ wishes? They never spoke to you about what they wanted. You didn’t even see them the week after we eloped.’
Guilt clouded the strong, rugged features she’d once loved with all her heart, and her hand shook with the effort not to reach out and smooth the indentation from between his brows.
‘I went to see them after we eloped to try and explain how we really felt about each other, how I’d never try and come between you and them.’
‘Bet that went down a treat,’ she muttered, struck by the irony of the situation. In leaving town, he’d catapulted her into a life-changing confrontation with her parents, resulting in an estrangement she couldn’t breach.
‘They gave it to me straight, and I knew then I couldn’t put my needs ahead of yours. It wasn’t right or fair. And they were right about one thing: I had nothing to offer you. You had a comfortable life there, a way of building a financial future before following your own dreams, and I couldn’t take that away from you.’
A harsh snort burst from deep within, and she took advantage of his momentary surprise to ease her hand out from under his. She had to before she turned hers palm up and hung on for dear life.
‘Funnily enough, you leaving ended up being the catalyst in me running from Rainbow Creek as fast I could.’
Shock widened his pupils. ‘Why?’
Camryn took a sip of water, instantly transported back to that day in her parents’ kitchen: the tantrum, the accusations, and the god-awful truth.
‘I lost it. Blew up at them big time. Mum lost it, too, we started arguing, then she hurls in my face this was the very reason she was keeping Nan’s inheritance from me till I turned twenty-one.’
She slugged the rest of the water, hoping to wash away the bitter taste of her parents’ deception, lingering to this day.
‘Turns out I could’ve had the money when I reached eighteen. Imagine how different our— my life could’ve been.’
And that was what rankled the most. If she’d had the money when she’d been entitled, maybe they would still be together. He wouldn’t have had to scrape by from job to job, town to town; they could have had a healthy start to their marriage with enough capital to do whatever they wanted.
But her parents had robbed her of that opportunity, had stolen the kind of life she and Blane had talked about while lying under the stars beside the river in Rainbow Creek, two young lovers daring to dream.
And she’d never forgive them for that.
‘I’m sorry.’
He reached out and touched her cheek, a soft, comforting gesture, all too fleeting when he withdrew his hand. ‘For everything.’
Tears scalded the back of her eyes, hot, burning tears that threatened to spill out and run down her cheeks in a cascading waterfall.
Shaking her head, she used her hair as a shield, grateful she’d had the common sense to release it from its plait.
It didn’t work, as he reached forward and gently tucked a few curly strands behind her left ear.
‘I know this has been tough, listening to all this heavy stuff. But we had to have this conversation, Cam. It’s the only way we can move forward.’
Her gaze snapped to his, her belly tumbling into a sickening free-for-all as she registered what he meant.
Moving forward.
He’d met someone.
Someone important enough for him to hunt her down, soften her up with his sob story, then demand a divorce?
As if sensing her distress, he cupped her chin and leaned forward, his face scant inches from hers.
‘I really want to move forward. With you.’
Her angst dissipated in an instant, dissolving on a wave of such intense longing she could have quite happily flung herself into his arms across the table and never let go.
Before her common sense kicked in. What was she thinking, considering taking another chance on a guy like Blane?
Sure, his reasons for leaving sounded sincere, and a small part of her agreed they’d probably been too young, too crazy in eloping, but going down that road again after all this time? He’d also been right about the fact they’d both changed and they had grown apart—thanks to him.
‘I can’t.’
Hurt flickered in his eyes, the smoky-blue flecks shimmering, and she reached out to touch his cheek before she could stop herself.
She’d meant her touch to be innocuous, a brief touch on his cheek to prove a point. However, she hadn’t banked on the urge to linger, the tiny prickles of whisker beckoning her to explore, to trace the contours of his cheek with her fingertips ever-so-slowly just as she used to.
Nor had she counted on him capturing her hand, gently scraping her fingers across his cheek, as if trying to imprint the feel of him into her palm.
‘You sure about that?’
She jerked back, withdrawing her hand with the finesse of a wounded rhino, ignoring the questioning gleam in his steady gaze.
‘Because, the way I see it, we’re still married. We still have chemistry, and you still care as much as I do, otherwise why agree to meet me here?’
She’d been asking herself the very same question since she’d agreed to this foolhardy evening.
‘Because you wanted a chance to explain, and I’m a decent enough person to give it to you. But that’s as far as it goes.’
He shook his head, the corners of his mouth curling into that devastating smile he used to his advantage. What hope did a girl have?
‘Sorry. I’m not buying it.’
‘Fine. You want to know the truth? I said yes because I’ve wasted enough time looking for you, and now that you’re here it’s a good opportunity to get divorced and move on.’
He should have bristled, or been angry, or defensive, or…something!
Instead, he sat back, looking way too relaxed for a guy who was just about to go through what for most people was a major life-changing event. Apparently divorce ranked right up there with death of a spouse and moving house; considering she’d already been through both those cataclysmic events six years ago—losing Blane had been akin to him dying in the devastation stakes—she knew firsthand how rough it could be.
‘You looked for me?’
No acknowledgement of what she’d said about the divorce, just a hint of curiosity as he leaned forward and placed his arms on the table.
He had strong forearms, lean yet muscular, with a light sprinkling of dark hair, forearms she’d trailed her fingers over when she’d explored his body for the first time, forearms that had lifted her up and swung her around after they’d married, forearms that had cradled her close on their honeymoon night spent in a dingy motel on the outskirts of Echuca.
It had been all they could afford, but it hadn’t mattered. Not the annoying neon sign that flashed on some crazy cycle, not the sagging mattress, not the grungy brown carpet in their room. All of it had faded into oblivion when they’d fallen into each other’s arms for the first time as man and wife.
It was a lifetime ago, in her past, so why was she suddenly all too aware of the underlying buzz of electricity still flowing between them?
‘Yeah, I looked for you, for about a year. You know, to serve you divorce papers.’
‘Only a year, huh?’
Once again he ignored the D word hanging between them, and strangely enough it didn’t seem all that important anymore with his steady grey-eyed gaze fixed on her, her skin tingling as if he’d physically touched her.
She made a frantic grab at her plait before belatedly remembering she’d let her hair down— metaphorically only, she hoped!
‘I like your hair better this way.’
Before she could blink, he’d reached out and captured a strand of her hair, gently twirling it around his index finger, forming a loose curl before releasing it, his fingertips brushing her shoulder as he sat back, a wistful expression on his face.
Clamping down the urge to yank his hands across the table and shove them through her hair, she shrugged, trying to ignore her burning, yearning skin where he’d briefly touched her.
‘Having long hair in the hospitality industry is impractical. I have to wear it tied back all the time.’
‘As long as you get to let it down once in a while.’
Was he asking if she had a social life, if she’d dated?
Hmm…if she counted the catch-up coffee with Lars the Lech and the dinner from hell with Deon the Drag, yeah, she’d dated. Twice in six years, two times too many, for neither of those guys had been Blane, neither had come close to sparking her interest as the man sitting across from her did.
‘I’m a self-confessed workaholic. I want the café to be the best, and to do that I need to put in the hard yards.’
‘Work isn’t everything.’
Camryn couldn’t explain the sudden change in atmosphere. One minute he was laid-back and laughing at her, the next he’d tensed up, from his bunched shoulders to his folded arms.
She topped up her water glass from the funky red glass bottle in the middle of the table, making a mental note to look for something similar for the Niche.
‘It is for me.’
He paused, as if weighing his words carefully, and it was the first time she’d seen him look anything but relaxed all evening.
‘I guess I’m trying to find out if there’s anyone else in the picture.’
The smart thing to do would be to fob him off, maybe even tell a little white lie to cement their estrangement and obtain the divorce she should have got years ago.
Instead, she stalled for time, forking the last piece of cake into her mouth and sighing as the chocolate mousse melted on her tongue, releasing a citrus burst in tart contrast to the luscious sweetness.
‘Come on, Cam, it’s a simple question.’
‘There’s no one else.’
She cleared her throat, blaming her husky tone on a stray cake crumb rather than the sick thought that he’d probably dated—and extensively. ‘What about you?’
Not that it was any of her business. Not that it mattered. She was just curious…
He unfolded his arms to lean forward and place them on the table, way too close to hers, lowering his tone to match hers.
‘There’s been no one else for me, only you. It’s always been you,’ he murmured, sliding his hand to cover hers, his calloused palm rasping across her delicate skin and sending shivers shooting up her arm.
His heartrending statement hung in the air as waiters bustled around them, cake plates were whisked from kitchen to table, and the steady buzz of patrons filled the air along with the sound of muted jazz.
He leaned closer, his forearm brushing hers again, and she clenched her teeth to refrain from sighing with longing.
‘Look, you know I’m a stand-up guy, and I’m too old to play games, so I’ll give it to you straight. I want us to get to know each other again. Take our time. It can be dinner, a movie, another coffee, whatever. The ball’s in your court.’
She sat there, transfixed by the sincerity in his tone, by his guileless grey eyes, by the tiny spark of electricity arcing from his forearm to hers.
Was he for real?
Did he want to give them a second chance?
Or was this just one of those times where he was passing through Melbourne, found himself single, and thought he’d look up a former flame for old time’s sake?
She might be the ultimate city girl these days with the street savvy to match, but it was times like this she wondered if shy Cammie from Rainbow Creek came out to play, filling her with insecurities and doubts and self-recrimination.
A huge part of her wanted to shout yes to getting reacquainted, though she wasn’t that naïve. She may be singing the divorce tune, but spending even the shortest amount of time in Blane’s company in years had her hormones sitting up, taking notice, and screaming ‘take me, I’m still all yours’.
She’d never experienced with anyone else the kind of ‘in your face’ physical attraction they had, the kind that made her body go into meltdown with the slightest touch, the kind that could make a girl lose sight of how far she’d come, and lose sight of her goals.
And if there was one thing she’d learned after leaving her old life behind, it was to stay focused on her goals.
With that in mind she sat back, reclaiming her personal space and what was left of her common sense. ‘I didn’t want this meeting to be about us. I wanted to talk business.’
Disappointment clouded his eyes momentarily as he registered she hadn’t given him a direct response. To his credit, he took it like the man she knew him to be and slid his resident smile back into place, the one which crinkled his eyes adorably.
‘The way I see it, there’s not much to talk about. The guys filled me in on what you need, I’m your man. It’s that simple.’
Simple? Was the guy nuts?
There was nothing remotely simple about this, any of it. Having him turn up out of the blue, asking for a second chance, her desperation to get her renovations done…no, simple didn’t begin to describe the position she now found herself in.
‘But what if…’ She bit down on her bottom lip, unsure whether to be blunt and drive him away completely or ignore the giveaway pitter-patter of her heart whenever he smiled and remain focused on the business aspect of their dealings.
‘What if you don’t want to have anything to do with me personally but want to take advantage of me professionally?’
She blushed, not surprised he knew her so well. He’d always done that, finished her sentences, read her thoughts. After such a short time together, it shouldn’t have been that easy.
But it had been, which made it all the harder to ignore the tiny flicker of hope his proposal had elicited earlier.
Could they give their marriage a second chance?
At that moment a child at a nearby table let out a delighted squeal as a waiter placed a ‘frog in the pond’ in front of her, her blue eyes wide with wonder as she peered at the chocolate frog suspended in green jelly, and Camryn’s blood instantly chilled.
She watched, transfixed, as the little girl’s mother leaned over and gave her a sloppy smooch on her forehead while her father ruffled her mop of blonde curls, their love obvious—the complete, perfect family.
Something she could never have.
Something she’d had no idea how badly she’d wanted till the option had been taken away from her, cruelly wrenched bit by bit with every visit to the hospital in the years since she’d lost Blane, a stark reminder that everything that truly mattered to her was gone.
Her husband.
Her parents.
Her fertility.
While she’d learned to focus on her goals and block out the pain of loss, seeing Blane now, hearing him confirm she still meant something to him, only served to reinforce what she’d known since the last surgery: she couldn’t have kids, and it wouldn’t be fair on any man, particularly one she’d once loved as much as she’d loved him, to have to deal with that.
‘Hey, you okay? Sorry if I’ve come on a bit strong.’
He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, wrenching her attention back to him and away from the happy family scene tugging at her heartstrings.
Momentarily comforted by his touch before coming to her senses and realising she had no right to be, she gently shrugged off his hand on the pretext of reaching for her bag.
‘Look, can you give me some time to think about all this? I’ll get back to you about the project manager position.’
As if.
The moment she left this place she had no intention of ever getting in touch with him ever again.
Her nerves were flayed, her memories too poignant, her pain raw, and she couldn’t see any point in prolonging the inevitable: them parting ways for good.
He rummaged in his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and handed her a business card, bearing his name, mobile number and email on rather plain but expensive cream cardboard.
‘Here’s where you can reach me. When you call.’
She managed a small smile at his confidence, took the card and slid it into the back pocket of her jeans, knowing she wouldn’t use it, wishing she could.
It was prevaricating like this that could get her into serious trouble, and she needed to get out of here before those sexy grey eyes with their blue flecks and endearing corner crinkles, along with accompanying ingenuous smile, undermined her completely.
‘I have to get going. It’s been a big day and I need to crash before starting all over again tomorrow.’
‘Sure.’
He slid several notes onto the table before she could reach for her purse, and he held up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest.
‘My shout. I asked you to come, I want to pay. Besides, you never know when I might need a snappy espresso fix again, and I want to keep the proprietor of that great place next door happy.’
‘Flattery will get you everywhere,’ she said, secretly thrilled by his chivalry in insisting on paying, remembering the old times they’d had to go Dutch because neither of them had a spare cent to their names.
‘Will it?’
‘What can I say? The café’s my baby.’
‘You have every right to be proud. It’s a great place.’
He took hold of her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his touch warm and steady, infusing her with a sense of security she hadn’t known in a long time.
‘I know.’
This wasn’t a time for false modesty. She knew the Niche was fabulous, from its cosy corner, bearing low leather sofas in the softest fawn surrounded by comfortable matching ottomans and strategically placed fuchsia and turquoise bolster cushions, to the monstrous timber bar topped by stainless steel with its co-ordinated bar stools.
She loved every inch of the place, with its exquisite water views on one side, to the views of Melbourne’s city skyline on the other. She’d built it up from scratch, competing in a high-end hospitality market, and could now proudly say it held its own.
Quite simply, the Niche was exactly that for her: a niche in Melbourne, a personal space, a home. Something she’d craved since leaving Rainbow Creek, something concrete and solid and all hers to fill the aching void deep in her heart.
He squeezed her hand, understanding exactly where she was coming from. He should; she’d bared her soul to him, poured out her hopes and dreams about owning a place just like the Niche all those years ago.
Pity he hadn’t listened to her other dream that had involved ‘till death us do part’.
‘Would you like me to take you home?’
‘No, but thanks for offering. Still the gentleman, huh?’
In a rash, spur of the moment gesture she didn’t rationalise and would probably regret later, she leaned forward and placed a quick peck on his cheek, fighting the urge to linger.
His stubble prickled her lips, leaving them tingling and hypersensitive as she inhaled deeply, savouring his scent. Crushed leaves, cedar, the woodsy cedar instantly transporting her back to Rainbow Creek and the huge cedar tree with its old rubber tyre she used to swing on in her parents’ backyard where he’d pushed her for hours one sultry Sunday afternoon.
It was a safe smell, an evocative smell, and she pulled away sharply before she did something even crazier like fling herself into his arms, just like she used to run from the swing into his open, waiting arms.
‘I guess there’s something to be said for old-fashioned manners if that’s the type of response I get,’ he said, rubbing his cheek where she’d left the faintest lipstick mark, a goofy grin on his face.
Her heart hitched at the familiarity of his expression, the same loopy way he’d looked at her when she’d served him the very first day they’d met, and she swayed towards him, torn between wanting to fling herself into his arms and resurrect the good old days and run as far from him as she could get.
Pulling up short, she stiffened, hoping he hadn’t read the yearning in her face. ‘I don’t have far to go.’
‘Okay, then. I guess we’ll call it a night.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Thanks for agreeing to meet with me, Cam.’
She held her breath as he leaned towards her, his head descending slowly, her heart pounding in anticipation of a goodnight kiss she shouldn’t want so damn much.
He took his time, and she clenched her hands into fists to stop from reaching out, bunching his T-shirt and yanking him towards her.
Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she tilted her face up, silently praying he’d go for her lips, guessing he’d play the gentleman to the end and settle for her cheek after all this time.
‘You have my card. Use it,’ he whispered against her ear, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin behind her lobe and sending tiny shivers of desire down her spine.
Her eyes flew open to find him staring at her with way too much perception, as if he knew what she wanted but would make her wait for it.
Well, he’d be waiting a long time considering she had no intention of using his card.
‘See you.’
Her noncommittal reply fell on deaf ears as his confident smile broadened, and she sent him a jaunty wave as she strolled away, resisting the urge to peek over her shoulder to see if he was watching her. By the heat burning holes in her back and spreading, he was, but she didn’t look back.
Just like he hadn’t when he’d left her high and dry and walked out on her in Rainbow Creek.
