by Nicola Marsh
She didn’t stand a chance.
No matter how often she told herself this was just a quick catch-up supper while they discussed business, no matter how hard she tried to believe she wasn’t doing this because she was curious to hear his excuse for what he’d done, no matter how much she wanted to turn him away, to hurt him as he’d hurt her six years ago, she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Blane Andrews, in all his tempting glory, still intrigued her enough to sit down over her favourite dessert after all this time…with her husband.
CHAPTER 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 easy-going 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 minefields’ 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 chocorange 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!