He's Back: A Second Chance Romance

by Aria Ford

  “Oh!” I flushed with embarrassment. Ainsley sipped her water, then put it aside, her pink, moist lips grinning up at me now in a delicious smile. I tore my eyes away to answer Chett's question. “Um, yes.”

  Ainsley giggled. “Yes, what?”

  “Yes – uh...yes, wholewheat,” I'd managed.

  They'd both laughed.

  “Don't worry,” Ainsley had said when Chett had gone off to the kitchen with that information. “I always say ‘yes’ if someone asks if I want tea or coffee.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “That makes me feel better.”

  She beamed at me, a soft blush in her cheeks. My eyes met hers. I felt a peculiar sensation, as if I was falling into the depths of them; like I might drown there. I couldn't look away.

  “What?” she asked gently.

  “Uh...” I shook myself. Then I giggled, not sure what else to say. “Um, nothing.”

  She beamed. It made her look so lovely that I had felt my throat tighten with the beginnings of longing.

  “What?” I said.

  She started laughing too. “I don't know.”

  Then Chett had come back with the whole-wheat bread, his mother and father along with him, and the spell had been broken. But the connection had just been made.

  Other memories my mind was feeding me were even more torturous – my first time with Ainsley in my room, naked on the bed. Ainsley lying beneath me, that sweet body receiving mine. Ainsley with her eyes closed, asleep beside me, her sweet, soft body pressed to mine...

  “Drake? Drake!”

  “Yeah?” I felt a subtle touch on my wrist and turned to find Henry Waterman standing there, our financial officer. His white-bearded, cheerful face was such a contrast to my last imagining that I took a moment to remember where I was.

  “Sorry, Henry. What was that?”

  “The boss was asking for you.”

  “Oh.” I scanned the room to locate my boss – the CEO of Steelcore Inc. It was a bad time for him to talk to me – I wasn't very focused and I had a sudden fear I might give something away.

  I really don't need to give the game away now.

  That needs some explaining. I wasn't working for Steelcore. I was working against Steelcore.

  My time with Amnesty International had taught me one very important thing: if companies are exploiting people, they don't generally want you to find out about it. Which meant that, if you wanted to find out, you had to find out covertly.

  So here I was, on a one-man mission to investigate a big company long-suspected of shady mining practices. And I was doing it on the solid Trojan Horse principle. Getting right into the system and bring it down from inside. That also meant that everyone had to trust me, from the boss to the ground-staff. If I was anything other than completely poised and perfectly able to hide my contempt for the man, that might not happen.

  “Was it urgent?” I asked with a frown.

  Henry made an expansive shrug. “I dunno. Best if you take it as urgent, eh?”

  “I guess.” I sighed and went to find a seat close to the boss. “Mr. Rowell?” I asked, standing beside his dinner place.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr. Waterman said you were looking for me?”

  “Yeah. I need you to talk to Lawrence over there,” he said with an airy wave at the top end of the table. “He's the one brokering this deal with Sanderson Enterprises...he had some legal point to clear up. Thought I'd set you onto him,” he added with a grin.

  “Sure,” I nodded. “Whatever you need.”

  He gave a big belly-laugh. “That's what I like to hear from a lawyer.”

  I kept the grin in place, though I'm pretty sure my eyes frosted over at a comment like that. I'm sure he liked dutiful lawyers. Then I headed off to find Lawrence.

  “Hi,” I said. “I'm Drake Leblanc?”

  “Ah! The legal eagle. Yes. I was just talking to my friend Damon there,” he indicated Mr. Rowell. “He said if I wanted to discuss his terms, I should clear it up with you.”

  “Okay,” I said with a raised brow.

  “Well, I happen to have the document here,” he said, fishing out his phone and scrolling through it. “Just a moment...”

  While he scrolled through his document for the bit he was looking for, I found myself scanning the room, looking for Ainsley. Ever since I'd seen her, it felt as if my skin had become thinner, my nerves tuned to sights and sounds of her. It was weird.

  She always was like that. Like water: you take it for granted until you don't have it anymore. Then you realize it's the most precious thing for life. And it's too late to change it.

  I felt like an ass. My mouth was dry with longing and I wished more than anything that I had treated her better all those years before this. She was still the only girl I had ever fallen for like this.

  I spotted her at a table. She was with her friend in the blue dress, sitting next to a smooth-looking guy with black hair and a stylish suit. I felt a stab of jealousy.

  “Drake?” Lawrence Richard, CEO of Sanderson said.

  “Yes?” I blinked. “Sorry. Distracted.”

  “Not a problem,” he replied smoothly. “It's a social event. I shouldn't be talking business, but, you know how it is, right?” He shrugged and gave a thin smile.

  “I know,” I agreed. “What was it you wanted to ask me?”

  “You see, it's like this,” he began. I watched him as he laid out the problem. Still blurred, a vision of Ainsley cut across my thoughts. Naked, in bed with me, those warm, soft breasts pointing at the ceiling.

  “I wish this could last forever,” she'd said dreamily.

  I'd swallowed hard. It was the last week of my pre-bar-exam preparations and my mind was already playing through my future plans.

  “We can't tell what's coming up,” I'd said carefully.

  “You know what?” she'd said, rolling onto her tummy and looking into my eyes seriously.

  “Mm?” I'd reached up and stroked her fluffy blond hair, loving the sweet-smelling shampoo of it. The way it felt under my fingers. Smooth and soft and slippery.

  “You're too cynical sometimes. You should let go more. Enjoy life,” she said.

  I'd sighed. “I'll try...”

  “Good,” she'd giggled. She'd kissed my cheek and snuggled up to me and I'd felt like I was in heaven.

  I guess I never did really try to be less cynical.

  My life had taken me along different paths.

  I brought my attention back to the present, where Lawrence Richard was still talking to me about the legal consequences of a merger.

  “And so the question, Drake, is: would you advise a merger, or a partnership? I think I understand the advantages and disadvantages of each.”

  I frowned. “Well, you see,” I said after a moment's thinking, “the tax laws between partnerships and mergers are completely different things. For a start, you need to be clear on whether you are making a merger that is also a tax merger...”

  I frowned as I tried to remember back to corporate taxes...an area of specification that was a tad rusty for me. I managed to recall enough to satisfy Lawrence. He grinned at me after a minute.

  “You know what? My head's gonna explode if we carry on. Let's meet on Monday and go over it.”

  “Great.” I nodded. “I'll be ready to talk then.”

  “Me too,” he nodded. “Looks like they're going to bring dinner out now.” He inclined his head to the end of the table where a black-clad man had appeared with a tray. I felt my mouth water and realized it was quite late already and I'd forgotten all about dinner.

  I was too busy thinking of her.

  “Oh, wow,” my neighbor at the table said with a grin. “Looks good, eh?”

  “Mm.” I nodded. “Smells it, too.”

  The waiters were moving around, bringing us a first course of some fancy-looking consommé. I breathed in the sweet and spicy odor and tried to stop myself from sneaking glances down the room at Ainsley.

  I sighed. I
still had no idea of what to do.

  My mind said I should pretend I'd never seen her. You can't risk getting involved with her. If you bring her into your life now, you could hurt her. Your job isn't stable – if you expose this company you could end up in prison. They won't be happy with you.

  My heart said I was a coward: I at least owed her an explanation for my disappearance.

  Come on, Drake, I told myself as I reached for a silver spoon to sample the first course. You should at least mail and say you're sorry. I decided that was what I was going to do. Tomorrow.

  Maybe Ainsley had forgotten about me. Maybe, like my current observation suggested, she was already seeing someone else. It was eight years ago, after all, I reminded myself impatiently as I pulled my focus away. All the same, I owed it to her, and to myself, to at least say sorry.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Ainsley

  I woke up feeling tired, and with no clear idea where I was. I had just been dreaming about lying wrapped up in my bed with Drake lying beside me, his warm arms wrapping me close...

  I sighed, remembering the night before. The clock showed me it was ten A.M. I had slept a long time.

  I ran a sleepy hand down my face, grateful I'd had the decency to wash the makeup off my face before I'd climbed into bed.

  “At least it's a Saturday.”

  I stretched and yawned and headed to the shower, trying to clear my head of my nostalgic thoughts. As the rose-scented steam from my shower-gel floated up to my nose I found my thoughts swimming in memories of Drake.

  He's even more stunning than I remember, I thought with a jolt of longing. But he's so cold and distant. So...so not himself.

  I toweled myself dry and pulled on jeans and a shirt. Five minutes later I was sitting in my apartment at the kitchen table, my breakfast cereal before me, my phone held to my ear. Lacey was on the other side.

  “It was amazing, wasn't it?” she asked.

  “It was great, Lacey,” I said. “I've never been to such a stylish party.” It was something I wouldn't forget in a long time – for many reasons.

  “I know! Me neither!” Lacey enthused. “I'm so glad you came. Thanks for coming, by the way – you know it's hard for me to get out and about sometimes.”

  “I know,” I said gently. “And thank you. I wouldn't have missed it. Not for anything.”

  We chatted a while longer and I breathed in the sweet coffee-scented steam of my kitchen and wondered why it was that I felt so sad this morning.

  “Lacey?”

  “Mm?”

  “You know, I wanted to ask you an um...theoretical kind of question,” I asked slowly.

  “Yeah?” Lacey sounded intrigued. “Ask away.”

  “Well,” I cleared my throat. “Say you'd known someone a long time ago. Say they suddenly met you again and they were, like, the polar opposite of who they'd been before. What would you do?”

  “You mean,” she asked thoughtfully, “how would I feel about getting to know them again?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “Exactly.”

  “Well,” she paused. “I think I would be cautious about it. You are, clearly. And I'd want to research a bit. Find out how much they'd really changed.”

  “Research?” I was interested.

  “Yeah,” she said brightly. “Snoop about! Check their Facebook, look at their profiles online, that kind of thing. How else are you going to know if they've changed or not? Really changed.”

  “Lacey!” I giggled. “You'd do that?”

  “Yes,” she said with a shy giggle. “Knowledge is power, right? Get it any way you can!”

  I chuckled. “You're right. I'll bear that in mind. You're gangster, you know that?”

  She laughed. “I wouldn't have said it like that myself.”

  “I would.”

  We both laughed.

  “Will you come for lunch later?” Lacey asked. “Uncle Mark sent me tons of official photos of the event and it'd be fun to look at them and chat.”

  “Okay,” I said. “That sounds great.”

  When we said goodbye and hung up I felt a bit better. At least I had a plan. I finished my coffee – it was cool now but it still had enough caffeine in it to do good for my head – and considered the advice.

  Should I really snoop about on Drake's social accounts?

  The idea was so deliciously naughty that I had to smile. Why not, though?

  I finished my breakfast and searched on my phone while I did so.

  “Drake...Leblanc,” I typed.

  A list of different profiles came up. One was the professional one, then a LinkedIn, then some other Drake Leblanc who was a writer. I chose Facebook. Drake Leblanc – at least that Drake Leblanc, the one who interested me – didn't have a Facebook.

  That's weird.

  Oh, well. I shrugged. Maybe as a big-deal corporate lawyer he didn't want to have too much stuff online.

  I looked at the work profile. I smiled at the handsome face.

  Why do you have to be so stunning? I should hate you for walking out with no explanation. But I can't hate that face...

  I took my dishes to the sink and caught sight of my reflection in the window as I put them in the sink. Despite my obvious sleepiness I had to admit that my angular, big-eyed appearance was quite pretty. I should stop hiding myself and chasing the one guy who was hellbent on ignoring me.

  “Come on, Ainsley,” I said to myself. “Stop moping. The guy doesn't care about you.”

  I rinsed the breakfast-dish, then set about the long-overdue task of unpacking the clean ones from the dishwasher. I was still busy when my phone made a noise.

  “What's that?” I frowned. When I picked it up, my frown deepened. It was an email from an address that I didn't recognize.

  “DL at Steelcore dot com. Oh...”

  Drake. No. It couldn't be.

  Stop being silly, Ainsley. How would he even know your email address?

  I opened it. It was Drake.

  Dear Ainsley, I read. I know it's been too long since I wrote to you. I wanted to say sorry. It was wrong of me to not at least tell you when I got back. Anyway. I hope you are well and all is good in your life. Best wishes Drake.

  I frowned. The words all felt so vague, so non-committal. It sounded like a business mail, just with slight emotional overtones. I am a translator and words are my thing. None of those words really radiated intense feeling, at least not to me.

  Sorry. Wrong of me. Best wishes.

  Not exactly passionate stuff, was it? He didn't seem too interested. I sighed and then a thought occurred to me.

  He wrote to me.

  That meant he remembered seeing me and it made a bit of an impact on him. And he had taken the time to look me up. That wasn't trivial.

  It isn't the sort of thing you'd do if you wanted to avoid someone, now is it?

  I frowned. I guess I would have written the similar sort of thing if I wasn't sure about what was going on in someone's life.

  He doesn't know anything about me, I reminded myself. He didn't even know whether or not I was single.

  I chuckled. If I had only recently become single, he probably wasn't. He was thirty-four now, and the chances were as a stunning lawyer he was being chased around the town by many girls by now.

  I probably don't have a chance with him.

  I put my phone down on the table and went over to the window, thinking. Should I answer him? The thought made my throat close up with so many emotions I had to take a moment or two to pick through them all.

  The main thing stopping me, I realized, wasn't nerves. It was disappointment. Disappointment in the new Drake. Would I have anything in common with this new identity? This corporate, commercial version of Drake who had sold out and joined the thing he was hellbent on fighting?

  Only one way to find out.

  Lacey's advice about the research came back to me. She was right – I didn't actually know for sure that he had sold out. I was very much judging this book by its co
ver.

  I took a deep breath, sat down and answered the mail.

  Hi Drake, I wrote. It was good to hear from you. And to see you.

  I paused. Did that sound desperate? Maybe.

  It was good to hear from you. I was surprised to find you as a corporate lawyer. I guess we have a lot to catch up about. Would be interesting to chat sometime. Best wishes, Ainsley.

  I closed my eyes and hit the “send” link. Then I leaned back in my chair feeling like I'd run a marathon.

  “Well, that's that,” I told myself. “Great thing about making a fool of yourself is that it doesn't kill you.”

  That was the only comforting thing I could think at that point. I was sure I had made a fool of myself. Why would Drake want to hear from me?

  I stood and made more coffee to relax myself. My plans for Saturday were straightforward. Clean the house. Work out. Have lunch. Finish my tax form.

  I have a simple life. There isn't any room in it for the likes of Drake Leblanc.

  I had just walked out of an abusive relationship. Did I really want to take up with someone who hadn't had the decency to tell me they hadn't been shot by rebels in the Congo?