by Sarah Morgan
When had she last had a date?
She couldn’t remember, although it wasn’t for lack of men. There had, she knew, been far too many men in her life. But she hadn’t dated them. The whole concept of a date made her feel like a giddy girl, young, innocent, full of hope.
Ha.
She was none of those things. She might only be twenty-six, but she’d lived enough for three lifetimes. And as for innocent, hopeful...Luke Bryant might stir something inside her she’d long thought destroyed, but he couldn’t change her and she didn’t think she could change herself.
And when Luke discovered that... Swallowing, she forced the fluttery panic down. There was no point thinking about the future. Luke was giving her one date. One day. And by the end of it he’d probably have had enough.
‘Ready?’
She whirled around, saw Luke smiling at her. He wore a dark green polo shirt and khaki shorts, and she realised it was the first time she’d seen him in casual clothes. The shirt hugged the lean, sculpted muscles of his chest and shoulders, and the shorts rested low on his trim hips. Her gaze travelled down his tanned, muscular legs to the pair of worn trainers and then back up again to his face, where a surprising grin quirked his mouth.
‘Finished?’
She had, Aurelie realised with some mortification, been checking him out. And not in a deliberate, outrageous, Aurelie-
like way. No, this had been instinctive, helpless, yearning admiration. Somehow she managed to smile, nod.
‘Yeah, I’m done.’
‘And do I pass?’
‘You’ll do.’
He chuckled and placed one hand on the small of her back. She felt the warm, sure press of his palm against her skin and the answering shivers of sensation that rippled out through her body from that little touch.
‘So where are we going?’ she asked as they left the hotel. A luxury sedan with tinted windows and a driver at the wheel waited for them at the kerb. Luke opened the door and ushered her into the sumptuous leather interior.
‘Camiguin.’
‘Cami-what?’
He smiled and slid in next to her, his thigh brushing hers. Aurelie didn’t know why she was suddenly hyper-aware of his movements, his body. She’d already been naked with this man; he surely shouldn’t have this effect on her.
And yet, somehow, he did.
‘Camiguin,’ Luke repeated. ‘A small island province in the Bohol Sea.’
‘So we’re not taking this car there, I assume?’
‘No, we’re taking this to the airport, and then a private plane to Mambajao, the capital city. And then we’ll hire a Jeep.’
‘Planes, trains and automobiles.’
‘It shouldn’t take more than two hours, overall.’
‘A private jet is pretty classy.’
Luke gave her the glimmer of a smile. ‘I can be a pretty classy guy.’
She felt a ripple of something like pleasure at the light remark, the curve of his mouth. She’d spent so much of her time trying to push Luke away and protect herself. It felt amazingly liberating not to do it. To banter without the barbs, to relax into a—
A what? A relationship? She didn’t do relationships. Luke might go for them, but they didn’t work for her. She turned to stare out of the window, told herself this was one date. It was nothing. By this time tomorrow they’d probably have decided they’d both had enough.
The private jet was waiting for them on the tarmac at
Manila’s International Airport. Aurelie had taken private jets before, back in her heyday, but she hadn’t been on one in over four years and it felt strange. She stood in the main cabin, glancing around at the leather sofas, the champagne chilling on ice, and felt something cold steal inside her.
Luke paused in the doorway, his gaze on her face. ‘What is it?’
She glanced up at him, bemused that he would sense her mood so quickly and easily. She wasn’t even sure what she was feeling. ‘Nothing. Everything’s very nice.’
‘That’s a scathing indictment if I ever heard one.’ His gaze moved slowly over her, assessing, understanding. His forehead creased and he nodded. ‘I guess you’ve taken a few of these in your time.’
She shrugged. ‘One or two.’
‘Does it bring back memories?’
Did it? ‘No, just a feeling.’
‘Not a very nice one.’
She opened her mouth to deny it, then said nothing. This honesty thing was tough. ‘Maybe,’ she finally allowed, and Luke smiled faintly, as if he knew how difficult she found this kind of talking. Sharing. All of it awkward, awful, painful.
‘How have you flown under the radar for so long?’
‘By holing up in Vermont.’
‘And no one there gives you away?’
‘They’re a close-mouthed bunch. And they’re loyal to my grandmother.’ Too late she realised she’d said more than she meant to. Funny how that happened. You started being a little honest and then other things began to slip out. Soon she wouldn’t be able to control it.
‘Your grandmother? Was Julia Schmidt your grandmother, then?’
‘No.’ She moved over to sit on the sofa, rubbing her arms in the chilled air of the plane’s interior. ‘Are we going to get going?’
Luke sat across from her. ‘As soon as we’re cleared for take-off.’ He didn’t speak for a moment, just studied her, and Aurelie looked away from his gaze. She heard the plane’s engines thrum to life with a feeling of relief. ‘Champagne?’ he asked, and she nodded, glad he wasn’t going to ask any more questions.
It wasn’t until he’d handed her a glass and raised his own in a toast that he finally spoke again. ‘You know, this second chance thing?’ She eyed him warily. ‘It doesn’t work if you’re going to guard everything you say.’
‘I wasn’t,’ she protested, and Luke just arched an eyebrow. She took a sip of champagne, glad for the distraction. ‘I told you I’m not good at this.’ He said nothing and, goaded, she said a bit sharply, ‘It’s not like you’ve been baring your soul.’
‘Haven’t I?’ he asked quietly. He looked away then, and Aurelie felt a strange twisting inside as she thought of his words last night. Words which made a shivery thrill run all the way through her. I know enough to know I want to know more.
Did she want to be known?
She took a sip of champagne, the bubbles seeming to fizz all the way through her. Maybe she did. At least for one day. One date. That was safe enough, surely.
‘All right.’ She set her champagne glass on the coffee table between them. ‘What do you want to know?’
Luke turned back to her, bemused. ‘You look like you’re facing the firing squad.’
‘It feels that way, a little bit.’
‘I suppose you’ve always had to be careful about what you say.’
‘I haven’t always been careful enough.’ He acknowledged the point with a nod. There had been several tell-all exposés in various tabloids, all with too much truth in them. Aurelie felt herself start to prickle. ‘So what do you want to know?’
‘What do you want to tell me?’
She gave a soft laugh. ‘Not much.’
‘There must be something. Some small, innocuous bit of information that you don’t mind imparting.’
She smiled, felt the tension inside her ease, at least a little bit. ‘Well...I like bubblegum ice cream.’
‘Bubblegum?’ His jaw dropped theatrically. ‘You have got to be kidding me.’
‘It’s delicious.’
‘It’s way too sweet—’
She leaned forward. ‘And pink and sugary and with little bits of gum in the ice cream. Yum.’
‘Whoa.’ He held up a hand. ‘TMI.’
A bubble of laughter erupted from her, surp
rising them both. He smiled, a real smile, lightening his stern features in a way that made her feel suddenly breathless. His dark eyes glinted gold. She shook her head slowly. ‘I didn’t think you had a sense of humour, you know.’
‘It’s a shy creature. It only appears on rare occasions.’
‘So it does.’ She gazed at him thoughtfully. ‘What’s your favourite flavour of ice cream?’
‘Not bubblegum.’
‘We’ve established that.’
‘Probably vanilla.’
‘Vanilla?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Could you be more boring?’
His mouth twitched. ‘Probably not.’
‘What’s there to like about vanilla?’
‘It never lets you down. Other flavours can be so disappointing. Not enough mint in the mint chocolate chip, too many nuts in Rocky Road.’
‘I have been seriously disappointed, on occasion, with the lack of cookie dough in cookie dough ice cream.’
‘Exactly.’ He nodded his approval. ‘But vanilla? Never a disappointment. Completely trustworthy.’
Like you are? She almost said the words. And meant them. No snide mockery, just truth. Too much truth. She wasn’t ready for that.
‘Well.’ She shifted in her seat, gave him a breezy smile. ‘Now we’ve broken the ice.’
‘Or the ice cream.’
‘That was a seriously weak joke.’
‘I told you, my sense of humour only appears on rare occasions. Anyway—’ he glanced at her as he took a sip of champagne ‘—can you eat bubblegum ice cream? Or does that send your glucose levels through the roof?’
‘Everything in moderation.’
He nodded towards the handbag at her feet. ‘I should have asked before, but did you bring everything you need?’
She nodded. ‘I have a little kit for testing my blood. It travels easily.’
‘When were you diagnosed?’
‘When I was seventeen.’ She swallowed, remembering those awful early days. At the time she’d just been moving from one event to another, dazed, incredulous, hopeful and yet still afraid.
Too late she realised Luke was watching her face, and she knew he could see the emotions in her eyes. Emotions she’d meant to hide. ‘Anyway,’ she said, apropos of nothing.
‘How did it happen?’
‘The usual symptoms. Weight loss, excessive thirst, dizzy spells.’
His eyes narrowed, and she could almost see his mind working. Understanding. ‘And the tabloids claimed you had anorexia. A drinking problem. A drug overdose.’
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. ‘That’s what they like to do. And in any case I haven’t been a saint.’ She lifted her chin a notch, tried to smile again, but her heart was thudding hard.
Luke gazed at her steadily. ‘Who has?’
‘You seem to have been a regular Boy Scout.’
‘No, not a Boy Scout.’ He rubbed his jaw, a movement that Aurelie couldn’t help but notice was inherently sexy. Although, perhaps the sexiest thing about Luke Bryant was how unaware he seemed of his own attractiveness. He moved with unconscious grace, and her gaze was helplessly drawn to the shrug of his broad shoulders, the reassuring squareness of his jaw. Everything about him solid and strong. Safe.
‘Why haven’t you ever talked about your diabetes publicly? Issued a statement?’
She leaned her head back against the seat, suddenly tired. ‘It’s quite a boring disease.’
‘Boring?’
‘Much more interesting to let them wonder. So my agent told me.’
‘Your agent sucked.’
She let out a surprised laugh. ‘Yeah, he wasn’t that great. I fired him a couple of years ago.’
‘You could have said something since then.’
She opened her eyes. ‘Maybe I didn’t want to.’
‘Why?’
‘Because telling the truth and having no one believe you is worse than not telling the truth and having people assume the worst. But I guess you wouldn’t understand that,’ she finished lightly, ‘what with this compulsion to honesty that you have.’
Luke didn’t say anything for a moment, yet Aurelie felt him tense, saw something dark flash in his eyes before he angled his head away from her. Had she inadvertently touched on something painful with her offhand remark? ‘I understand,’ he said finally, his voice low, and she almost asked him what he meant. She didn’t, though, because they’d surely had enough honesty for one day.
By the time they arrived in Camiguin Aurelie had started feeling relaxed again. Luke had steered the conversation back to lighter subjects, moving from ice cream flavours to movie preferences and whether she supported the Mets or the Yankees.
‘Mets all the way,’ he’d assured her solemnly, but she saw a glint in his eyes that made her smile.
They disembarked the plane at the tiny airport and took an island taxi—basically, a rusted-out Jeep—into Mambajao. The capital of Camiguin was no more than a small town of rickety buildings with wooden verandas and tin roofs, the narrow streets bustling with bicycles and fruit vendors and raggedy children darting in and out of everything. It was so different from Aurelie’s usual experience of travelling, when she kept to limos and high class hotels and never stepped outside of a severely controlled environment. She loved this. Craved the feeling of possibility and even hope wandering around the dusty streets gave her.
‘What are we doing first?’ she asked Luke, and he smiled and took her elbow, steering her away from a man on a bike pulling a cartload of pineapples.
‘I thought we could pick up some lunch in the market, and then we’ll take it out to the falls for a picnic.’
‘The falls?’
‘The Tuwasan Falls. They’re pretty spectacular.’
‘You’ve been there before?’
‘I stopped over here the last time I came to Manila.’
She felt a completely unreasonable prickling of jealousy. Had he taken one of his serious relationships to this falls? Was this his go-to place for a romantic date in the tropics?
‘Alone,’ Luke said quietly, yet with a hint of humour in his voice that made her blush. Again. She’d never blushed so much with a man, had never had a reason to. She was Aurelie, she was worldly-wise and weary, beyond shame or embarrassment.
But that act was falling away, flaking off like old paint. What would be left when it was gone? Something good, or even anything at all? She still wasn’t sure of the answer.
‘Come on,’ Luke said, and he guided her to a market stall overflowing with local produce and fish. ‘Anything look good?’
Aurelie surveyed the jumbled piles of fruits and vegetables, the pots of noodles and trays of spring rolls.
‘Crispy pata?’ Luke suggested. ‘It’s deep fried pig’s leg.’
She winced. ‘I don’t think I’m feeling quite that adventurous.’
‘It’s quite tasty.’
‘You’ve had it before?’
‘I like to try new things.’
She pointed to a tray of round yellowish fruit that looked a bit like potatoes. ‘What’s that?’
‘Lanzones.’
‘Have you had those?’
‘Yes, but you have to be careful. If they’re not ripe, they taste horribly sour. If they are, incredibly sweet. You just have to take your chances.’ He picked up a fruit, testing its ripeness with his thumb. ‘Try it.’ The fruit seller quickly peeled the lanzone with a knife and handed her a piece. Warily, she bit into it and then, without thinking, spat the piece out into her hand. ‘Yuck!’
‘Bitter, huh?’
‘You don’t sound surprised.’
He shrugged, and she hit him in the shoulder. ‘You did that on purpose!’
‘Try this one.’
‘Why should I trust you?’ she demanded even as she took the second peeled lanzone.
‘Because even lanzones deserve a second chance.’
Something in his quiet, serious tone made her mouth dry and her heart beat hard. She took a bite, and her mouth filled with the intense sweetness of the fruit. Her eyes widened. ‘Wow.’
‘See?’ He sounded so satisfied, so smug, that Aurelie rolled her eyes.
‘Thank you very much for that life lesson. Message received. Everything deserves a second chance.’
‘Not everything.’ After handing the vendor some coins, he’d placed his hand on the small of her back and was guiding her to the next stall. ‘Just me and the fruit.’
He acted, Aurelie thought, as if he were the only one who’d made a mistake. Who needed a second chance. Yet when she thought of her behaviour at their first meeting—and even their second—she felt as if she was the one who needed to change. Who wanted to prove she was different. Not Luke.
She glanced at him, her gaze taking in his stern profile, the hard line of his mouth, the latent strength of his body. What was he trying to prove?
He’d put several lanzones into a straw basket he’d bought from another vendor, and they added mango, spring rolls and some local sausage and cold noodles to their purchases. The sun was hot overhead even though the air felt swampy, and Luke bought two bottles of water and some sun hats as well.
‘Now to the falls,’ he said, and Aurelie followed him to a tin-roofed garage where he conferred with a young man who couldn’t be more than sixteen before leading her around to the back where a battered-looking Jeep awaited.
‘Your carriage, madam.’
She eyed it dubiously. ‘I don’t particularly relish breaking down in the middle of the jungle.’
‘Don’t worry, we’re not taking this into the jungle.’
‘Where, then?’
‘A car park about five kilometres from here. Then we walk.’
‘Walk? In the jungle?’
‘It’s worth it.’
‘It’d better be.’
Luke stowed their provisions in the bag, handed her a sun hat, and then swung into the driver’s seat. Aurelie could not keep her gaze from resting on his strong, browned forearms, the confident way he manoeuvred the rusty vehicle through the crowded streets of Mambajao and then out onto the open road, no more than a bumpy, rutted track.