The Ex Factor

As if to punctuate his words, lightning stabbed through the window, followed immediately by a crack that shook the house on its foundations.

She matched his glare with one of her own. ‘I can’t stay here.’ With you naked under that robe. With five years of loneliness and frustration chipping away at my will-power. She turned away and began walking towards the door. ‘I have to get home.’

‘I saw the state of the track and that was a good hour ago,’ he said, and she felt the air move as he dumped his clothes on the couch. ‘No streetlights till you hit sealed road, maybe not even then. No one to lend a hand if you get bogged.’

She swung back to face him. ‘I’ve got my mobile phone.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Mel. Surely we can manage to share a meal and a fire without…’

Tearing each other’s clothes off? Ah, yes, exactly what he’d been going to say, Mel thought, watching the tell-tale line of colour etch his cheekbones, feeling the flare of response smouldering in her own traitorous body.

She let out a slow breath. ‘Okay.’

It wasn’t one of Carissa’s ‘signs’—it wasn’t—but she could do this; they could do this. Two intelligent, civilised adults could share an evening, no problem. If she didn’t dim the lights and use the candles, if she stuck to the rock CD or no music at all—if she didn’t look at him—they’d do fine.

She could retire to the second bedroom after tea, catch up on some much needed rest, and in the morning this whole getaway retreat thing would be over and the Rainbow Road would be ten thousand dollars richer.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘WILL anyone worry if you don’t come home tonight?’

His voice took on a low, husky sound and all manner of scenarios involving her and Luke and why she wouldn’t be home tonight danced into Melanie’s mind. She slammed a mental lid on that Pandora’s box and shook her head.

‘No. I stay over at Carissa’s sometimes. Adam and I don’t keep tabs on each other.’ She gestured at the bench. ‘Your dinner. I’ll let you get on with it.’

‘Alone?’

The breath caught in her throat as the unspoken message in his smoky voice shivered through her, as the lambent heat in his eyes sent her pulse sky-rocketing. ‘You obviously intended solitude,’ she pointed out.

‘When circumstances change—’ he shrugged ‘—hardly seems fair that the cook goes hungry after all the trouble she went to.’

Circumstances had changed all right. Which was why she was stuck here for now, alone with Luke Delaney.

Resigned, and, yes, hungry, she slipped her keys back in her pocket, shrugged off her coat and moved to the small kitchen area off the living room. ‘Why don’t you try the wine while I get the seafood? We can eat by the fire, it’s warmer there.’

And she didn’t need to face Luke in a robe across the intimate table setting with its scented candles and vase of violets. She took the cocktails out of the fridge and set them on the bench.

‘Here you go.’ The husky sound of his voice made her jump.

She hadn’t heard Luke come up behind her and jerked around, almost knocking the two wineglasses from his hands.

It was easier—but safer—to look straight ahead at the large, blunt fingers curled around the delicate crystal stem…and on that soft V of the robe…than to tip her head back and meet his eyes.

He smelled of soap and new fabric and if she leaned closer her lips would meet warm, masculine skin just above that V. She remembered in full detail the exact spot where her lips touched his body when they stood toe to toe. Thigh to thigh. Breast to chest.

Oh, boy. Not so safe after all.

She tried to ignore her body’s toe-curling, lip-tingling response and took the glass with a murmured, ‘Thank you,’ and stepped back.

Except that now she could see the masculine texture of his jaw, the fullness of his lips and the dark stillness in his eyes, like a deep river with hidden depths and mysteries.

She took a sip to moisten her suddenly parched throat and watched him do the same. Watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. Oh, stop. Watching, staring, admiring. Remembering.

‘Why don’t you—’ get out of my space, you’re crowding me ‘—go make yourself comfortable and I’ll bring the food.’

Her fingers tightened around the glass. The storm’s ferocity matched the beat of her heart, the stunning impact of his gaze while he took another gulp.

‘Give me your glass, then.’ He took it from her numb fingers, then turned and carried both glasses to the living area while she remained on the other side of the bench.

‘Prawn cocktails coming right up.’ She huffed out a breath, angry that her voice sounded breathless and weak. ‘Steady,’ she ordered herself quietly. ‘No more confined spaces.’

When she moved to the living area he was crouched in front of the fire, feeding it another log. She took the opportunity to put their prawns on the coffee-table and sink onto the safety of an armchair.

There’d been nights like these when they’d shared their passion in front of an open fire in Luke’s parents’ house on cool summer evenings. Grossly unnecessary in mid-January, but oh-so-romantic. He was remembering too—she knew by the silence, so tense she swore she could hear it snapping over the drumming of the rain.

Big mistake. The fireplace wasn’t any safer than the table setting.

Then the lights flicked once and went out. Blackness and tension suddenly filled the room, relieved only by the flames. She held her breath as Luke stood and turned to her, eyes glittering in the reflected glow.

‘Well, I guess that takes care of any paperwork I planned to do.’

‘I wonder how long it will be?’ Mel shivered. It felt even more isolated, more confining, more dangerous now. The world had shrunk to the ruddy sphere of firelight and she leaned instinctively towards it. Towards Luke.

‘Could be hours.’ He reached for one of the silver compotes and sat down on the leather couch across from her.

When she just stared at him, amazed at his casual attitude, he shrugged. ‘Might as well eat.’

Melanie tried, but her stomach was too tight with nerves to swallow more than the first couple of mouthfuls. Luke on the other hand suffered no such problem.

Twenty minutes later he’d finished a healthy serving of her casserole and started on the sticky date pudding. Apart from brief comments about the food, when the rain might ease, whether they had enough wood inside to last, hardly a word passed between them.

Yet Melanie could feel the tension. It hummed in the air, louder than the rain’s rhythm on the roof, the hiss of the fire, more powerful than the wind whipping around the windows.

‘So what papers were you going to work on?’ she asked. Anything to drown that lack of normal human conversation.

‘Just some of Dad’s finances. I promised I’d take a look. Thought I might as well start tonight.’

‘You’re staying a while, then? In Sydney?’

‘Yes.’ He stopped scraping the bottom of his dessert bowl to look at her. ‘It’s a big city, Mel.’

‘Not so big. You’re Adam’s friend.’

‘Our paths don’t have to cross. Unless you want them to.’ He set the bowl on the coffee-table and watched her as long, tension-filled seconds ticked by.

Waiting for a response? Her heart stalled, then kaboomed once.

‘We’re adults,’ he said, when she didn’t answer. ‘We can bury the past and try to get along.’