The Last Time I Saw Venice

She recoiled at the harsh words, hurt piercing her at the reminder that they’d only married because he’d made her pregnant, the legacy of their last rapturous night together in Venice four years ago. It was something they hadn’t expected would happen, naively hoping it wouldn’t happen after only that one time…even after finding that the condom he’d used that night had split.

Attracted as they’d been to each other, they’d been virtual strangers at the time, both immersed in their high-powered careers, blazing ambition driving them equally—she striving to reach the top of her field in a male-dominated corporate law firm, he determined to be the best in his own demanding field of neurosurgery. Neither had been ready for marriage or commitment, let alone children. Finding herself pregnant after returning to Sydney from Venice had come as a shock. She’d only called Simon because she’d needed someone to confide in after making the difficult decision to keep the baby. Even though he was working in New York at the time, she’d felt it was right that he, as the child’s father, be aware of the situation.

“You only married me because I insisted on coming back to Australia and giving our child a name and two married parents,” the deep, relentless voice went on. “I’m not even sure you would have gone ahead and had the baby if I hadn’t persuaded you to marry me.”

She jerked back, horrified that he could believe such a thing. Her heart cried out to him. No! I’d already fallen in love with you, Simon, even though we barely knew each other! Having already decided to keep the baby by then, she’d hoped he would stand by her, though it had come as a shock when he’d asked her to marry him. That had been the last thing she’d expected, after what he’d said in Venice about not being ready for marriage or children, wanting to reach the top of his specialized field before settling down. After she’d said the same thing. She’d hesitated at first, but when he’d refused to take no for an answer, she’d surprised herself by agreeing to marry him, knowing in her heart, after only that short time together in Venice, that she’d found the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

Simon had been her rock back then. He’d given up his work at the hospital in New York and returned to Sydney to be with her, taking up a post at a top Sydney hospital. He’d supported her through her pregnancy and made it possible for her to keep on working after the baby arrived. A daily nanny and a housekeeper twice a week had allowed them both to keep on working at the same frenetic pace, each determined not to allow a baby, even a much loved baby, to disrupt their high-flying ambitions.

Now, forcing herself to look into his eyes—coldly glinting and remote as they were—she said evenly, “There was never any question of not having the baby, once I knew I was pregnant. I—I would have managed somehow.” But as a struggling single mother, what would have happened to her lofty hopes of a partnership and a brilliantly successful career at the top of her elite field? And oh, how her father, back in Queensland, would have crowed as it all crashed down around her! I told you you’d never make it. Careers are for men, love, not for women. Women belong in the home. Mothers belong at home with their children.

“But you didn’t have to manage on your own, did you?” Simon reminded her tonelessly. His hand had dropped to his side. “I flew back from New York and we got married. But marriage didn’t change your life, did it, Annabel? Having a baby didn’t change anything. You didn’t even change your name. Your career still came first. Never our marriage.” Or me, he might as well have added.

She almost moaned aloud. How could she dispute it? But she hadn’t been the only one obsessed with a demanding career. “It didn’t change your life, either,” she reminded him. “We both messed up big time. Neither of us was ready for marriage.” Or for babies, she thought, feeling the old hollow pain inside. But she wasn’t brave enough to mention Lily. Since the accident, neither of them had been able to talk about their daughter…least of all Simon. And here in crowded St. Mark’s Square certainly wasn’t the time or place.

“No.” Simon puffed out a sigh. “And marriage is still not a priority with you…obviously.” He glanced again at the sleeping baby nestled against her. “But having another child is?” This time he didn’t hide the bitterness, the raw pain in his voice. “Or was this one a mistake, too? Where is the father, by the way? Did he hang around? Or have you had to manage on your own this time?”

The baby started making whimpering sounds, and Annabel, losing her nerve, seized her chance to make a run for it. Let him think what he liked…it was over between them. Nothing could ever change what had happened or repair the damage from the past. Or make him love her again. “I must go. What I do is no longer any of your business.”

“You’re still my wife.” His hand caught her arm again, his fingers scalding her bare skin, his intense blue eyes far too close, burning into hers.

She felt another surge of panic. “We’re separated. I’m free to see any man I please.”

“Separated!” He made a sound that was almost a snarl. “We never even discussed it. You just walked out. No warning, no discussion, nothing.”

She turned on him. “You’re pretending to care now?”

He flinched. “And you did? It didn’t seem that way when you left without a word, except for a brief Dear John letter saying our marriage was over and you were leaving Australia to work in London. You couldn’t even face me. You didn’t explain…or ask for any help…for a settlement…for anything. You just cut me out of your life.”

She steeled her heart, holding herself together with an effort. “I didn’t need anything from you. We were both financially independent. Our marriage was dead. What was the point in going on?”

His hand slid away. “No…you never needed anything from me, did you? Not after…” His voice cracked.

He still couldn’t say Lily’s name. Since the day their baby had died, he hadn’t even been able to talk about her, let alone discuss what had happened. Annabel felt the old anguish, the deep, suffocating hurt of two years ago, swell in her throat. He was still suffering from what she had done. Still blaming her. What hope did they have? Blinking, she swung away, plunging into the crowd, scattering pigeons as she left him standing.

Chapter Two

Good grief, what have I done to her? Scowling at the fluttering pigeons, Simon trudged back across the crowded square, his heart twisting with guilt and self-loathing.

Oh, Annabel… Still as beautiful, as desirable as ever, but so thin and pale, the lovely green eyes smudged and clouded with pain, her cheekbones too stark, a shadow of her old vibrant self. Even at the time she’d walked out on him, she hadn’t looked as frail as this.

Of course, she’d been sick. She’d had pneumonia, her secretary had told him last week when he’d finally taken the bit between his teeth and called Annabel’s London office to inquire about her. But he’d started her on her downward slide, crushing her last desperate hope, breaking her heart and spirit. He’d wrecked her life, as he’d wrecked…their child’s. As well as his own, for what it was worth.

Damn damn damn. He’d thought that after this long healing break away from each other, and by taking the plunge finally and pursuing her to Venice, where they’d first fallen for each other, she might have been prepared to thaw a little and feel more forgiving, maybe even give him another chance. But he’d come back for her too late. She’d found someone else. She’d even had another man’s child!

He groaned aloud. How the hell had she been managing, working long demanding hours in a strange city, and having to care for a baby? The guy must still be with her. Some wealthy, high-powered legal hotshot, no doubt, who was supporting not only her and their baby, but her dream of a partnership in her prestigious law firm. A man who could give her everything she’d ever wanted.

Not a broken-down brain surgeon like himself.

He swore. What a humiliating comedown! From a stunningly successful neurosurgeon, brimming with self-confidence and his own lofty importance, treated almost like a god who could do no wrong, he’d sunk to this. A failure—despite what others might have tried to tell him. His pride and his confidence had taken a beating, but that was nothing compared to what else he’d lost. His child, his wife, his marriage.

He shouldered his way through a Japanese tour group clustered round a guide with a yellow umbrella, barely seeing them, only knowing they were in his way. He could only see Annabel. His wife. The thought of her making love to another man was like a knife twisting in his gut.

Who was he, this jerk who’d come between them? A close colleague at her London law firm, as likely as not, knowing how hard she worked and how determined she was to reach her longed-for goal. Maybe even a senior partner at Mallaby’s. What better, quicker way to achieve her coveted ambition?

Unless they’d made her a partner already. The legal secretary he’d spoken to had not been communicative. It had taken all his charm and persuasion just to find out that Annabel had been ill and was recuperating in Venice.

“Well! Simon Pacino! I don’t believe it!”

The tormenting images in his mind disintegrated as a vaguely familiar face materialized out of the crowd. The sandy hair…the cocky grin…the short, stout body…

“Remember me, mate? Tom Robson. We were at med school together in Melbourne. Many moons ago, before you moved to Sydney and we lost touch.”

The years rolled back. “Tom! Of course I remember. You planned to specialize in orthopedics.”

“And you in neurosurgery.”

They both gave a laugh, a chopped-off laugh, eyeing each other as if wary of asking if the other had achieved his goal.

“You didn’t change your mind?” Simon asked finally, getting in first as he prepared his own answer in his mind. The fewer details, the better. It was no one’s business but…Annabel’s. If she wanted to hear. And if he had the chance to open up to her…finally. And could open up, spill his guts, lay himself bare. Hell! Why was exposing his darkest feelings and private hells always so damned difficult for him?

“No way,” said Tom. “I’m considered a top orthopedic surgeon these days.” False modesty had never been Tom’s way. “I work in Chicago now, by the way. I’m here in Venice to give a presentation at an orthopedics convention.” He glanced at his watch. “Look, I have to rush off now, but how about joining us for dinner? My wife’s here with me and we’ve a free night. We could catch up on everything then.”

Everything? I don’t think so. Simon hesitated, searching for an excuse. He wanted—needed—to be at a particular hotel tonight…to look out for Annabel. Annabel and her…lover.

“We’re staying at the Gabrielli Sandwirth, on the Lagoon.” Tom was already backing away. “Say you’ll join us. Seven-thirty in the dining-room? Hope that’s not too early? We’ve a new baby and my wife prefers early nights.”

Another baby? Simon groaned inwardly. Just what he needed. More reminders of…

“Congratulations, Tom.” He mouthed the platitude while his mind was racing off at a tangent, having seized on the name of the hotel. The Gabrielli Sandwirth…the very hotel where Annabel was staying! He’d spent all morning checking out the hotels until he found out. Annabel’s secretary wouldn’t divulge that information when he’d called London, only relenting enough to mention that she was in Venice. Learning she’d already left the hotel for the day, he’d hung around St. Mark’s Square in the hope of finding her. And by some miracle, she’d shown up there. With a baby. He grimaced.

“I’ll be there,” he promised, his mind on his wife, not on meeting up again with Tom. Dining at the Gabrielli with other people would give him some cover if Annabel walked in with…lover boy. If she walked in alone— he sent up a silent prayer—he’d excuse himself as soon as he could and join her…if she would let him. He wasn’t going to give her up without a fight, without thrashing things out…not this time. He’d already lost her once.

And he would lose her again if he couldn’t face up to his demons and deal with them.

“Great. See you tonight, mate.” Flashing a broad grin, Tom strode off.

Simon had a satisfied smile on his lips and almost a skip in his step as he walked on. Dinner at the Gabrielli? What a stroke of luck. He would have to see if the hotel had a spare room. If they did, he’d retrieve his bag from the railway station and move in there. Annabel was still married to him and, new lover or not, baby or not, he was damned well going to win her back and convince her they could make it work. Somehow. He had nothing to lose.

Hell, he’d lost enough already.

Annabel came down to the dining room early, not wanting to keep Tessa and Tom waiting. But only Tom was there, at a table set for four. Four? Oh well, she hoped that whoever else they’d invited would keep the conversation rolling, because she didn’t feel like being the life of the party herself. She was weary after sightseeing all day and emotionally drained after bumping into Simon.

“Annabel! Glad you could join us. Tessa’s just feeding the baby. She’ll be down in a minute.” Tom settled her into a chair. “We owe you for what you did for Tessa this afternoon. She’s bankrupted me, but hey, she tried on her new dress for me and she looked a dream. She’ll knock everyone’s eyes out tomorrow night.”

He chatted on easily until Tessa arrived, carrying a portable crib. “Gracie’s been well fed and is fast asleep already,” she said, slipping into the chair beside her husband and placing the baby capsule on the floor beside her. “Now we should be able to have dinner without being disturbed.”

“Ah, and here’s Simon,” said Tom, raising his arm.