by Amy Andrews
Simon shook his head. ‘Keep it. It’s been on your finger for four years. It belongs to you.’
He held out his arms and she curled the ring into her palm and accepted his parting hug. She held him tight, grateful beyond words to have known him for a decade. But it was impossible to be held by him and not compare. His hands on her back were nice, comforting. Marcus’s hands made her tremble. Made her hot. Made her needy.
Simon eventually turned and left and she stood staring after him for a long while, the claws of the ring cutting into her palm. To her horror she could feel tears in her eyes. ‘I am not going to cry,’ she muttered. ‘Absolutely not.’
And then promptly burst into tears.
CHAPTER SIX
I SHOULDN’T still be crying, Madeline thought as she determinedly wiped the tears from her face. I’ve been at it for an hour now—enough. She’d given the official end of their relationship its due, grieved for the closing of a wonderful ten-year friendship, because honestly that was what it had been more than anything, but now it was time to stop.
Madeline stared into the rippling water below. From behind her somewhere the soulful beat of modern jazz drifted to her on the breeze, as did the excited laughter of children splashing around at the nearby city beach. The wake of a passing River Cat disturbed the surface and brought her out of her reverie.
She’d been sitting on the low wall that ran beside the Brisbane River at South Bank for half an hour. The waning rays of sunlight reached across the water, glittered on the surface and caused a kaleidoscope of colours to sparkle in the depths of the diamond ring she still held in her palm.
The tears were gone and she knew that to be fully free so she could move forward, the ring had to be gone, too. She looked at the river and smiled. Veronica would be completely horrified at what she was about to do. The only thing the receptionist had thought any good about Madeline’s relationship with Simon was the ring. She’d tell Veronica she sold it, but tossing it into the river had an air of finality she couldn’t ignore.
She closed her fist, lifted her arm, drew her hand back behind her head and flung her arm forward. A fist closed around hers from behind, halting the ring-hurling process. Madeline got such a fright she nearly fell off the wall.
‘What the—?’ she said, as she quickly turned around.
Marcus. Her startled heart settled a little when it realised there was no immediate danger to her life but took up a different tempo, a slower, louder throb, as she recognised that this man posed an even bigger danger than that. He was a danger to her sanity.
A tantalising thought slithered into her brain like the serpent in Eden. Rebound sex.
No. Damn you, Veronica.
He was wearing boardies, which were damp, a button-up shirt worn Marcus-style—unbuttoned and flapping open. He had obviously dried himself hastily. His dark chest hair was still damp and she could see a lone water rivulet tracking its way down his washboard abs. His hair was wet and he had a damp towel around his neck. His feet were bare and sandy.
Rebound sex.
No!
He opened her hand, saw the ring and plucked it off her palm. He looked down into her eyes and could see she’d been crying. Something had happened. ‘You know it’s against the law to litter, right?’
Madeline laughed and turned back to the river view because he was so gorgeous she wanted to bite him. She could feel his presence behind her, feel the heat radiating in waves off his body.
Rebound sex.
Enough already!
‘Maybe you should think about this.’
His voice was low, his mouth close to her ear, and she shivered. Part of her wanted to scream at the unfairness of his effect on her, part of her wanted to lean back into him and rub herself against him like an appreciative feline.
Rebound sex.
I mean it, get a grip!
He sat beside her, facing the wide paved walkway, and watched the ebb and flow of human traffic for a few minutes. He was conscious of their arms brushing occasionally and of the weight of the ring in his palm and the hum deep in his loins as his mind wrestled with the possibilities. Did this mean the engagement was off?
‘What happened?’
She sighed. ‘Simon and I split up.’
Marcus couldn’t tell from her voice whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. But she’d obviously been crying so she must be upset. Despite the delicious potential, Marcus had an unexplainable urge to go and find her too-busy ex-fiancé and punch him on the nose. ‘Want me to beat him up?’ he asked.
She laughed, the humour in his voice making it sexier than ever, and the urge to rub herself against him intensified. She looked at her hands instead, desperately trying to banish the serpent’s whisper and not think about rebound sex when they were talking about a serious issue. ‘Actually, we split a couple of months ago.’
‘Oh?’ Marcus said, a little confused. So all this time he’d been lusting after an engaged woman and she hadn’t?
‘I’ve been in denial.’
Marcus looked at the bling in his hand and again thought what a fool Simon was to have ever let Maddy get away. He turned side on. ‘I told you he was an idiot.’
She smiled. ‘No. He did us both a favour. We were together for all the wrong reasons. We didn’t love each other. Not like we should have. I just didn’t realise it until he came back this afternoon and wanted to reconcile.’
‘How did he take it?’
She shrugged. ‘Quite well. He knew, too. Deep down, he knew. I’m sure he hasn’t spend an hour crying about it like I have.’ She laughed.
Marcus nodded. ‘So, if it’s all over and has been for a while, why the tears?’
She shrugged. ‘We’ve been together for a long time and now it really is over. It feels a bit like he’s died, I guess. These things need to be mourned. Trust me, I’m an expert on mourning.’
And tossing the ring was the funeral. He picked up her hand off her lap and placed the ring in her palm. ‘Well, I still think he’s an idiot,’ he said, and grinned down into her serious face, her lips touched by a slight smile. ‘Do it. Send the idiot to a watery grave.’
Madeline looked at him through suddenly glassy eyes, warmed by his support even if it was just to cheer her up.
Rebound sex.
She shut her eyes and ignored the whisper as she closed her hand around the flashy piece of jewellery and tossed it long and hard at the pliant river. There was too much noise to hear it plop but she opened her eyes in time for them to both watched it hit the surface and disappear.
‘C’ mon.’ He nudged her arm with his after a few moments. ‘I’ll buy you a drink.’
She eyed him dubiously, his bare, flat abdomen tantalising in her peripheral vision. ‘You’re not exactly dressed,’ she pointed out.
‘This is South Bank.’ He shrugged. ‘No one cares.’
She did. The way she was feeling at the moment, if he didn’t cover that delicious chest she was afraid the temptation would become too great and at some stage she would lean over in mid-sip and run her frosty glass down his perfect abs.
Marcus saw a flare of desire heat her green eyes and the hum in his loins kicked up to a buzz. ‘I’ll button up,’ he said. ‘I’ll even put on some shoes.’ He swung a backpack off his shoulder and brought out a pair of trendy bulky sandals.
‘Come on,’ he said, and held out his hand to help her around and off the wall.
She took it reluctantly and dropped it immediately she had her feet on the ground. ‘Where to?’
‘There’s a good pub. It’s got a great menu. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.’
Madeline faltered and was thankful she was no longer touching him. She was absolutely starving, and he looked totally edible. She suppressed the urge to lick her lips and lean in to gnaw on his neck. ‘Famished,’ she said.
Marcus heard the husky quality of her voice and noticed the flare again, and began to think that being with Maddy tonight, fresh from h
er break-up, was maybe not the best idea. There’d been something between them from their first meeting and she was a free agent again. Fair game.
But he knew how she felt about relationships and even if he hadn’t, just one look at the delicious Maddy was enough to know that she didn’t do casual. And he didn’t do permanent. And, besides, coming on to her two hours after her long-term relationship had broken up was just plain icky.
They walked without talking. Fitness freaks jogged around them, power walkers paced past them, families with toddlers and prams dodged them and the sun slowly set around them. They pushed their way through the crowds thronging the night markets and made it to the pub before the beer garden had filled up for the night. They got a table and Marcus left to get them a drink.
The music she had heard earlier was coming from a band inside the pub and the music drifted out, creating a pleasant atmosphere. She could smell beer and peanuts and steaks cooking and felt surprisingly good. The laid-back vibe of the pub was just what the doctor ordered.
‘One chardonnay,’ said Marcus, placing her drink on a coaster in front of her.
Or was Marcus the remedy? He sat opposite her, gave her a sexy dimpled grin and took a long swallow of his beer. He licked the froth from his lips and she almost groaned out loud.
She felt hot suddenly, hot all over, and she shrugged out of her navy pinstripe jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. When she turned back she noticed he was looking at her. Intently.
‘What?’ she said, lifting her arms and checking out her crisp white figure-hugging shirt, wondering if she’d spilt something down her front. It was one of those new stretch fabrics and it pulled tautly across her cleavage, the button struggling to keep in place. Maybe a button had popped?
Marcus wondered how much longer the button could stay in the hole and hoped he was around when it finally gave up the battle. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Nice…shirt…’ He sounded lame, even to his own ears, and he took another long pull of his beer.
Madeline stilled as she watched his lips press against the frosty glass. Hang on a minute. Had he just checked her out? She felt as if a finger had stroked across her pelvic-floor muscles as they clenched involuntarily. Maybe she wasn’t the only one with a serpent in her head. She leaned back in the chair and noted how his gaze followed the straining button. Interesting. Very interesting.
‘So,’ he said, placing his beer glass back down and blinking a few times to clear the haze that had descended when he’d thought about what kind of bra she might be wearing underneath. ‘Do you want to talk about Simon or get drunk and forget him?’
She laughed. ‘That doesn’t seem like quite the right thing to do.’
‘Do you always do the right thing, Maddy?’
She thought about it and thought about how she so didn’t want to do the right thing tonight. How she wanted to throw caution to the wind, down her chardonnay in one mouthful, grab his hand and demand he take her home to his bed.
She swallowed. ‘Pretty much.’
He nodded thoughtfully as he kept one eye on that teasing little button. No surprises there. The waitress came and took their order and he was pleased for the distraction. He ordered a T-bone. She ordered pasta.
‘OK, so no Simon.’
‘No, we can talk about him. I promise I won’t burst into tears.’
‘Really?’ Marcus had three sisters and his mother was on her fourth husband. He’d been privy to more than one bust-up in his life. In his experience women tended to cry for days.
‘Sure. You can test me if you like,’ she said, and laughed self-deprecatingly. She noticed Marcus’s gaze wander back to her chest as her breasts bounced with her laughter. She shifted slightly in the chair and felt her pelvic floor contract again as his gaze followed her movement.
‘No tests, I promise. You said you were together a while?’
She nodded. ‘Ten years.’
Marcus had to refrain from spitting his mouthful of beer all over her. A decade! He swallowed the mouthful and whistled instead. He couldn’t even begin to contemplate being with someone that long.
She laughed at the rank incredulity on his face. ‘How long were you and your ex together?’
‘Three years. Married for two.’
‘Yeah, I guess it is a long time.’ She shrugged. ‘We’ve actually known each other since kindergarten but got really close after his mother died. My mum had not long gone either so I understood what he was going through.’
Mutual grief? Didn’t sound like the best basis for a relationship. Marcus was surprised it had lasted a year. He watched her as she spoke. She was staring into her wineglass, one hand twirling the stem, the other arm bent at the elbow, the fingers absently worrying the knot of hair at the nape of her neck, working it loose strand by strand.
‘What happened with your parents?’
‘My dad died in a car accident. I was just starting grade twelve. And my mum was diagnosed with breast cancer two months later and lasted nine months. I’m sure her broken heart hastened her end.’
Marcus heard the anguish hidden behind her controlled delivery. His first instinct was to pull her into his arms and comfort her. His second was to run like hell. He took a sip of his beer, acknowledged the dangerous zone he was entering and took a mental step backwards. He was buying her a drink and a meal and seeing her home, and that was it.
But then she sighed loudly and gave up on the strands, pulling the pins out instead, throwing them on the table as she raked her hands through her hair until the knot loosened and the curls sprang gently around her shoulders. He watched, fascinated, as her body moved, as her neck twisted from side to side, as her breasts jiggled with each arm and shoulder movement. And the button maintained its precarious hold.
Dear God. He couldn’t run now if he wanted to. He had a sudden vision of that hair spread on his pillow, wrapped around his hand, trailing across his body, and tried to remember why hitting on a woman who had just ended a relationship was a bad idea.
‘Sorry, this must be depressing the hell out of you,’ she said, shooting him a sad smile as she picked up her wineglass and sipped the dry white appreciatively.
He laughed. ‘And this from the woman who sent me Connie Fullbright.’
They laughed together and Marcus pointed to her nearly empty wineglass. ‘Another?’
Madeline hesitated. For a second.
Rebound sex.
‘Sure why not?’ The wine was giving her a pleasant buzz that, combined with Marcus’s obvious appreciation, was quite exciting. She deliberately adjusted her collar and noted Marcus pause as he rose, his eyes widening as his gaze followed the path of her fingers as they lingered near the holding-it-all-together button at her cleavage.
He continued on his way to buy another round but not before Madeline had seen the bob of his Adam’s apple and the flash of desire glitter in his eyes. She smiled to herself. So this was sexual power? How could she get to her thirties and not know how heady it was?
Rebound sex.
God damn it. All right, all right!
Marcus approached her warily from behind, praying that he had himself together now. There was something different about her tonight that trebled her sexiness. Even from behind she stood out from the crowd. Her gorgeous crop of lush red ringlets falling to her shoulders separated her from every other woman in the pub.
‘Thanks,’ she said, as he put her wine down.
He smiled and they both tasted their drinks. She crossed her legs and brushed her foot against his bare calf. ‘Oh, sorry,’ she said, smiling at him over the rim of her glass.
Marcus almost choked on his beer. The contact had been too slow to be accidental. It had lingered a little too long. He gave her a searching look and she held his gaze steadily. He’d seen that look before. Great! He was going to be rebound sex? Not that he had anything against it per se. Hell, he’d been used on more than one occasion on the rebound and had enjoyed himself immensely.
But he remembered
not that long ago he had stupidly been rebound guy for his ex and it hadn’t been his wisest moment. Maddy was emotional and he didn’t want her to confuse his intent. He would probably see her most days—it would be smart to keep things between them strictly business.
‘Tell me more about Abby,’ he said, grabbing the first thing that popped in his head and then wished he hadn’t. ‘Sorry, no, bad choice. I’m supposed to be cheering you up.’ He just needed to get her off track. Because if she came on to him, he thought, trying not to stare at that damn button, he wasn’t sure how good his powers of resistance would be.
‘It’s OK, I don’t mind talking about her.’
‘You blame yourself for her death?’
She sucked in a quick breath. How had he had seen so deeply inside her on such short acquaintance? ‘Of course,’ she said in a small voice, and shrugged. ‘I was her older sister. I was supposed to be looking after her. Just before my mother died she said to me, “Look after Abby, she’s impulsive, she’ll need you.” For God’s sake, I was practically a doctor. I should have been able to save her.’
‘What happened?’ he asked gently.
‘She’d been gone for a few days. We shared a flat close to campus, she often stayed over at her boyfriend’s unit. I wasn’t concerned.’
‘What was she studying?’
‘She was doing an aromatherapy course,’ Madeline said. ‘She was always a bit alternative. You would have loved her.’
He laughed and took a swallow of his beer waiting for her to continue. She was leaning forward on the table again, her elbow bent, her palm cradling her chin. He could see the creamy rise of her cleavage.
‘Then late one night Nathan, her boyfriend, came to my door, with Abby in his arms. He was really upset. She was sick, he said, and strode past me, laying her on the lounge.’
Madeline stopped for a moment and took a sip of her wine. She could still see her sister’s face and feel the horror when she had realised Abby had been desperately ill.
‘She was burning up, barely rousable. Nathan told me they’d taken her to a psychic surgeon earlier in the day and he’d removed her appendix and given her some white powder for the pain. She’d been asleep most of the day but had woken feverish and doubled over. The autopsy showed her appendix had ruptured and she’d had raging peritonitis.’