The Ex Factor

‘Why did you write?’

She looked into the eyes of the man who’d changed her life for ever. ‘Because your mobile phone number didn’t work, my emails bounced back. It was my last hope.’

His expression sharpened further, his lips pulling tight as he worked through her words. ‘Last hope?’ His voice was harsh, derisive. ‘If it had been that important you could’ve tried the next logical step of contacting my parents by phone.’

Oh, how she burned to tell him, but what good would it do now? He was obviously back here to reconnect with them and no way did she want to sabotage that. She’d have given anything to have her own parents back; their deaths had rocked her world. No, she simply couldn’t do it.

Anyway, who would he believe—a five-minute lover or his father? No contest. So she gave him a deliberately vague shrug. ‘I…wanted to make sure it was over between us.’

‘I thought you made yourself perfectly clear on that last night.’

Her body suddenly felt drained and limp and she had to stop herself from reaching out to touch him, to absorb some of his strength, to tell him. ‘I took your non-reply as your answer.’

His jaw clenched, he closed his eyes briefly. ‘I’m sorry.’ He reached for the barely touched bottle of wine still on the table from dinner and poured himself a full glass. ‘I stepped straight into a promotion and was overseas a month after I’d started in Queensland. I changed my phone number and my email address.’

And didn’t give me another thought. ‘Yeah, well, it’s all rain down the drain now.’

She watched him raise the crystal, sparking in the firelight, its ruby liquid caress his upper lip a moment before he drank.

She heard him swallow, felt her own throat tighten in response. If she leaned closer…would that potent blend of heat and wine and Luke still taste the same? Still lead her down that same dizzy, out-of-control course? Or, in this case, to that warm and tempting king size bed a few quick steps from here?

She picked up her mug, wrapped her stiff fingers around it and tried to sip the chocolate, but there was a lump in her throat and it wasn’t the marshmallow. It was resentment, hard and bitter and impossible to swallow.

Ignoring his own mug, Luke drank the rest of his wine, poured himself another. Mel started to warn him he’d pay for it in the morning but instantly bit down on her words. If he wanted to get quietly drunk that was his business. Cripes, she was almost tempted to join him, but someone needed to be alert if the storm did any more damage.

So she leaned back and let her lips caress the china. What would Carissa make of all this? Oh, she knew already what her stepsister would say and she was sick of hearing about signs and fate and soul mates. Which was why she hadn’t told Carissa about Luke’s return yet.