Surprise Baby, Second Chance
Therese Beharrie
Reunited for one night…bound forever by the consequences!Rosa had her reasons for leaving husband Aaron. Yet, stranded together for one night during a storm, they are forced to confront their past and infinite attraction. And when she discovers she’s pregnant Rosa knows it’s time to fight for their future.
Reunited for one night...
Bound forever by the consequence!
Determined never to become a burden on the person she loves most, Rosa walked away from her husband, Aaron. Now she’s back on his island home for a family party, and they end up stranded together during a storm! Forced to confront the past and their infinite attraction, a kiss leads to one more night... And when she discovers she’s pregnant, Rosa knows it’s time to fight for their future.
Being an author has always been THERESE BEHARRIE’s dream. But it was only when the corporate world loomed during her final year at university that she realised how soon she wanted that dream to become a reality. So she got serious about her writing, and now writes books she wants to see in the world, featuring people who look like her, for a living. When she’s not writing she’s spending time with her husband and dogs in Cape Town, South Africa. She admits that this is a perfect life, and is grateful for it.
Also by Therese Beharrie (#ulink_30696190-e6b5-5e0b-a815-cbfda91ed296)
The Tycoon’s Reluctant Cinderella
A Marriage Worth Saving
The Millionaire’s Redemption
Tempted by the Billionaire Next Door
Conveniently Wed, Royally Bound miniseries
United by Their Royal Baby
Falling for His Convenient Queen
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Surprise Baby, Second Chance
Therese Beharrie
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07798-9
SURPRISE BABY, SECOND CHANCE
© 2018 Therese Beharrie
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Grant.
Thank you for keeping me steady through my anxieties.
My ROSA Typewriter Club.
I’m so lucky to have found you both.
Thank you for believing in me.
Always remember how much I believe in you.
And Megan.
Thank you for your patience with me.
You’ve taught me so much. I can’t wait for the rest of our books together—sorry, I couldn’t resist!
Contents
Cover (#ube3e62c5-1f5d-50aa-907d-432035cae26b)
Back Cover Text (#u231f7ef4-fdcc-58b5-b605-e50b82174e8c)
About the Author (#u5552a2d2-1f44-5ef2-a6a3-5d0d91fb2446)
Booklist (#ulink_29a2f744-af75-5a30-9451-1596c2c2f07f)
Title Page (#u6276476f-95a3-5d9c-9644-33d9931f3944)
Copyright (#uc1967bde-7a56-5cba-bd3b-eb5d100599b6)
Dedication (#u22b09b7c-5989-5864-9e96-3953d5ef17be)
CHAPTER ONE (#u24d5ceea-e676-58d0-a18d-8d97941f1956)
CHAPTER TWO (#u700e57cd-9a5e-5c7e-a251-8aa722cdffc4)
CHAPTER THREE (#uaa04bbc3-43cc-5616-97a0-3d40c41ba00c)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ud4a21f3f-7f54-57da-8400-358de1301bbd)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_73c65d56-4482-5cf2-ab9c-a3289bde3c67)
ROSA SPENCER HAD two options.
One: she could get back into the taxi that had brought her to the house she was currently standing in front of.
Two: she could walk into that house and face the man she’d left four months ago without any explanation.
Her husband.
When the purr of the car grew distant behind her she took a deep breath. Her chance of escape now gone, she straightened her shoulders and walked down the pathway that led to the front door of the Spencers’ holiday home.
It could have been worse, she considered. She could have bumped into Aaron somewhere in Cape Town, where she’d been staying since she’d left him. And since they’d lived together over a thousand kilometres away in Johannesburg, Rosa would have been unprepared to see him.
Since she worked from home most days, she would have probably been wearing the not-quite-pyjamas-but-might-as-well-be outfit she usually wore when she ventured out of the house during the week. Her hair would have been a mess, curls spiralling everywhere—or piled on top of her head—and her face would have been clear of make-up.
Exposed, she thought. Vulnerable.
At least now she was prepared to see him.
Her gold dress revealed generous cleavage and cinched at her waist with a thin belt. Its skirt was long, loose, though it had a slit up to mid-thigh—stopping just before her shapewear began—to reveal a leg that was strong and toned: one of her best assets.
Her dress made her feel confident—after all, what was the point of being a designer if she couldn’t make clothes that did?—as did the mass of curls around her face, and the make-up she’d had done before she’d got onto the private plane her mother-in-law had sent for her.
She hadn’t seen Liana Spencer in the four months since she’d left Aaron either. And perhaps that was part of the reason Rosa had agreed to attend a birthday party that would put her face to face with the man she’d walked away from.
The other reason was because of her own mother. And the birthday parties Violet Lang would never get to celebrate.
Rosa took another breath, clinging to the confidence she’d fought for with her dress. It was a pivotal part of the armour she’d created when she’d realised she’d be seeing Aaron again.
She needed the armour to cloak the shivering in the base of her stomach. The erratic beating of her heart. The combination of the two was so familiar that she didn’t think she’d ever truly lived without it. Though that hadn’t stopped her from running from it all her life.
The door of the house was open when she got there and Rosa slipped inside, thinking that it would be easier than to announce her arrival by ringing the bell. There was nothing to indicate a celebration on the first floor—just the usual tasteful but obviously expensive furniture and décor—though that wasn’t surprising. Liana usually went for lavish, which meant the top floor. The one where the walls were made entirely of glass.
It offered guests an exceptional view of the sea that surrounded Mariner’s Island just off the coast of Cape Town. Of the waves that crashed against the rocks that were scattered at the beach just a few metres from the Spencer house. And of the small town and airport that stood only a short distance away from the house too.
Rosa held her breath as she got to the top of the stairs, and then pushed open the door before she lost her nerve.
And immediately told herself that she should have escaped when she had the chance.
There was no party on this floor. Instead, it looked like it usually did when there were no events planned. There was a living area and a bed on one side of the room—the bathroom being the only section of the floor with privacy—and a dining area and kitchen on the other side.
There was an open space between the two sides as if whoever had designed the room had decided to give the Spencers an area to be free in.
But in that open space stood her husband. Only her husband.
And the last thing Rosa thought of was freedom.
His back was to her, and she thought that she still had the chance to escape. He didn’t know that she was there. If she left he wouldn’t ever have to know. What harm would it do?
Except that when she turned back to the door it was closed. And when she looked over her shoulder to see if he’d noticed her she saw that Aaron was now facing her, an unreadable expression on his face.
‘Running?’
‘N-no.’ Be confident.
His mouth lifted into a half-smile. ‘No?’ he asked in a faintly mocking tone.
Her face went hot. The shivering intensified. Her heart rate rocketed. But, despite that, she was able to offer him a firm, ‘No’.
‘Okay,’ he replied in a voice that told her he didn’t believe her. And why would he? Hadn’t she run from him before? Without the decency to explain why? Hadn’t the anxiety of that decision kept her up night after night?
Guilt shimmered through her.
She ignored it.
But ignoring it meant that her brain had to focus on something else. And—as it usually did—it chose his face.
Her eyes feasted on what her memories hadn’t done justice to over the last four months. His dark hair, dark brows, the not-quite-chocolate colour of his skin. The mixture of his Indian and African heritage had created an arresting face, his features not unlike those Rosa had seen on movie stars.
But his face had more than just good looks. It spoke of the cool, calm demeanour that had always exasperated her even as it drew her in. He rarely let his emotions out of wherever he kept them, so they seldom claimed the planes of his face.
Except when he and Rosa were having a conversation about their feelings. Or when they were making love. There’d been nothing but emotion on his face then.
‘Where is everybody?’ she asked in a hoarse voice.
Aaron slid his hands into his pockets, making his biceps bulge slightly under the material of his suit jacket. Her breath taunted her as it slipped out of her lungs. As it reminded her that it wasn’t only Aaron’s face that she was attracted to.
It was his muscular body. It was how much taller than her he was. It was his broad shoulders, the strength of his legs, of everything in between.
He’d always been thrilled by the curves of her body. But his hands were large enough, strong enough, that she’d always thought he wouldn’t have wanted her as much if her curves hadn’t been as generous.
Aaron took a step towards her.
Which was no reason for her to move back.
But she did.
‘Well, if I’m right—and I probably am—everyone’s here who’s supposed to be.’
‘I don’t understand. It’s just you and...’ She trailed off, her heart thudding. ‘Did you—did you do this?’
‘Oh, no,’ Aaron replied, and took another step towards her. This time she managed to keep her feet in place. ‘Why would I want to see the wife who left me with no explanation?’
‘Great. Then I’ll go.’
She turned to the door again, ignoring her confusion. She’d figure it out when she was off the island that reminded her so much of her husband.
The island where he’d taken her months after her mother had died. Where he’d got down on one knee. Where he’d told her he couldn’t imagine life without her.
Where they’d spent time after their wedding. Lounging in the sun at the beach. Lazily enjoying each other’s bodies as only newlyweds could.
Where they’d taken holidays. When life had become too much for her and Aaron had surprised her with a trip away.
The island where he’d held her, comforted her, loved her on the bed that stood in the corner, its memories haunting her. Overwhelming her.
Yes, she’d figure it all out when she was away from the island. And far, far away from her husband.
A hand pressed against the door before she could open it. She swallowed and then turned back to face him.
Her heart sprinted now. Her body prickled. The scent of his masculine cologne filled her senses. Memories, sharp and intimate, could no longer be held back.
Again, she tried to ignore them. But it was becoming harder to do.
‘Why are you stopping me from leaving?’ she managed in a steady voice.
‘Did you think you were just going to walk in here, see me, and then...leave?’
‘I thought I was attending your mother’s sixtieth birthday party.’
‘Which I would have been at too.’
‘And we would have seen each other there, yes. But you’re the only one here. I’ve seen you. Now I want to leave.’
‘Just like that?’
‘Just like that.’
He inched closer. ‘You’re not the slightest bit curious about why you and I are alone here?’
‘Sure I am. But I’m also pretty sure I can figure it out on my way to the airport.’
‘The airport?’ His lips curved into a smile. ‘Honey, the airport’s closed.’
‘No,’ she said after a beat. ‘No, it can’t be. I just got off a plane. Your mother said it would be waiting for me when I was done here.’
His smile faded. ‘She lied. Your flight is likely to be the last one until Monday. The airport’s closed this weekend.’
Panic thickened in her throat. ‘All weekend?’
‘Don’t sound so surprised, Rosa,’ he said mildly. ‘You know Mariner’s Island doesn’t work the way the rest of the world does.’
‘Yes, but...but it was a private plane. Yours.’
‘It still needs somewhere to take off from. To land at. And since the airport’s closed we won’t have that until Monday.’
She ducked under his arm, put distance between them. But it didn’t make breathing any easier. ‘So...what? Your mother just decided to leave her guests stranded here until Monday?’
‘Not guests,’ he corrected. ‘Just you and me.’
‘Did you know about this?’
‘No.’
‘Then how did you not suspect something was off when the main route off the island would only be viable again on Monday?’
‘She told me that the party would be going on for most of the weekend.’
‘And you believed her?’
‘Yes,’ he said coldly. ‘It’s not unusual for one of my mother’s parties to continue for an entire weekend. You know that.’
‘Okay,’ she said, and lifted the curls off her forehead with a shaky hand. ‘Okay, fine.’ Her hand dropped. ‘Then I’ll take a boat home.’
‘It’s too late to get one tonight.’
‘I know,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘I’ll take one tomorrow morning.’
‘There’s a storm warning for tomorrow. Starting tonight, actually.’
She looked beyond the glass walls, saw the dark clouds rolling in. Her stomach tumbled. ‘That’s fine.’
‘It’ll be a rough storm, Rosa. It’s anticipated to last until tomorrow evening at least. Do you still want to take a boat?’
‘Yes.’
He laughed softly. ‘You’re so determined to get away from me you’ll take an almost two-hour boat ride in a storm? Even though you get sick when the water is calm?’
She hesitated. ‘I’ll be fine.’
His half-smile mocked her. ‘I’m sure you will be.’
He was right, she thought, and hated herself for admitting it. Hated him for being right.
Except that what she felt in that moment was anything but hate.
Confusion, yes. How had this happened? Had Liana really orchestrated this on purpose?
Guilt, of course. She’d walked away from him. From their relationship. She hadn’t even said goodbye.
Anger, absolutely. She hated feeling trapped. It reminded her of her childhood. Of being caught in her mother’s world.
But hate? No, she thought, her eyes settling on Aaron again. There was no hate.
‘Why are you so calm?’
‘I’m not,’ he replied in a tone that gave no indication that he wasn’t. ‘But I know my mother. And I know this scheme is probably well-thought-out. Much like the first time we met. Or don’t you remember?’ His voice was soft, urgent. ‘Have you run away from the memories too, Rosa?’
She didn’t reply. There was no reply she could give. She couldn’t tell him that she hadn’t been running away from him, not really, but saving him. From the anxiety, the stress, the worry of being with someone who was terrified of losing the health of their mind, their body.
Rosa had spent her life looking after someone like that. She knew the anxiety, the stress, the worry of it. She knew the guilt when the fear became a reality.
She’d saved him, she thought again. She’d saved him from going through what she’d gone through with her mother’s hypochondria. She’d saved him from having to take care of another person. From having it break him.
The moment she’d felt that lump in her breast, she’d known she couldn’t put him through all of that. So she’d walked away. Had tried to move on.
But the memories wouldn’t let her. No, the memories were always, always there.
* * *
‘Great,’ Rosa said loudly. ‘No one’s here.’
But that didn’t make sense. Her mother had told her there was a Christmas ball for cancer patients that night. Had asked Rosa to be her partner at the ball.
Of course, Rosa had agreed. Her father wasn’t in Cape Town, though she doubted he would have agreed to accompany her mother even if he had been. Irritation bristled over her, but she forced her attention to the matter at hand. She’d spent enough of her time being annoyed at her father.
The room was decorated as if there was supposed to be a ball. A large crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the ceiling, white draping flowing from it to different spots on the walls. It lit the space with soft light, brightened only by the small Christmas trees in each corner of the room that had been adorned with twinkling lights.
There was only one table at the end of the room, standing next to the largest Christmas tree Rosa had ever seen, with champagne, canapés and desserts spread across it.
‘Am I early?’ Rosa wondered out loud again.
But, like the first time, she got no response. Throwing her hands up, she turned to try and find someone who could explain what was happening. As she took a step towards the door, it opened and her breathing did something strange when a man joined her in the room.
‘Who are you?’ she blurted out.
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Aaron Spencer. Who are you?’
‘Rosa Lang.’ She swallowed. How had the air around her suddenly become so charged? ‘I’m, um, here for the Christmas ball...’
‘Me too.’ His eyes lazily scanned the room. ‘Either we’re really early or—’
‘Or our mothers have decided to play a game on us,’ Rosa said, his name suddenly registering with her.
He was Liana Spencer’s son. Rosa had only met the woman a few times during her mother’s group chemotherapy sessions but she’d been charmed. Not only by the woman’s energy—which she envied greatly—but because she’d done an amazing job at keeping Rosa’s mother’s energy up, despite the fact that she was going through chemo too.
Liana had been vocal about wanting Rosa to meet her son, and Violet had tried to get Rosa to agree to it just as passionately. The dress Liana had sent her—along with the make-up, hair and car she’d arranged—began to make more sense. And seeing Aaron now had Rosa regretting that she’d resisted an introduction for such a long time...
‘I wouldn’t put it past my mother,’ Aaron replied darkly. It sent a shiver down her spine. But she didn’t know if that was because of what he’d said or the fact that she felt inexplicably drawn to him. Even though he didn’t seem quite as enamoured.
‘This does seem like an excessive prank though.’
‘My mother’s speciality.’
‘Really?’ She tilted her head and, for once, let herself lean into what she wanted to do, refusing to give the doubt that followed her around constantly any footing. ‘How about we have a glass of champagne and you can tell me all about it?’
She wasn’t sure how long he studied her. But when his lips curved into a smile—when his expression turned from reserved into one she couldn’t describe but felt, deep in her stomach—she knew she would have waited an eternity for it. And thought that—just maybe—he was drawn to her too...
* * *
‘I remember,’ Rosa said softly. ‘It was a hospital Christmas ball. Or so we thought. Our mothers told us they wanted us to go with them. That they’d meet us there because they wanted to have dinner before. But there was no hospital Christmas ball. Just a party for two that our mothers had arranged so that we could meet.’
There was a tenderness on Rosa’s face that didn’t fit with the woman who’d left him four months ago. An indulgence too, though he suspected that was for her mother who’d passed away a year after that incident. And for his mother, who Rosa still had a soft spot for, despite what she’d seen Liana put him through over the years.
Aaron clenched his jaw. The emotion might have been misleading but her actions hadn’t been. She’d left him without a word. Without a phone call. Without a note. He’d got home from work one day to find her clothes gone. She’d taken nothing else, and he’d had to face living in the house they’d furnished together—the home they’d built together—alone.
‘I imagine my mother wanted this to be much the same,’ Aaron said curtly. ‘She forces us to be alone together but, instead of starting to date this time, we work things out.’
‘But it’s not like before,’ she denied. ‘There actually was a ball then. Sure, no one else was there, but there was food and drink, and the place had been decorated for a party. This—’ she gestured around them ‘—is so far away from that.’
‘But she sent you a dress again?’ He tried to keep what seeing her in that dress did to him out of his voice.
‘No. I designed this one.’
‘You’ve never made anything like this for yourself before.’
‘I know. It was...a special occasion. Your mom’s sixtieth birthday,’ she added quickly. But it was too late. He’d already figured out that she’d made the dress because of him.
He wasn’t sure if he was pleased or annoyed by the fact. He’d been trying to get her to make something for herself for years. Now, when they were...whatever they were, she’d chosen to listen to him.
Perhaps that was why she’d left. Because he’d been holding her back. He’d add it to the list of possibilities. A list that spoke loudly—accusingly—of his faults.
‘I’m sure she would have if you hadn’t told her you’d sort yourself out,’ he said to distract himself. ‘And she arranged the plane for you. And the car to get you here. She’s a regular old fairy godmother,’ he added dryly.
‘No. No,’ she said again. ‘That can’t be it. She wouldn’t have arranged all of this just to play at being a fairy godmother.’
‘She did it before. When we met.’
‘That was just as much my mom as it was yours.’
‘Somehow, I think my mother had more to do with it.’ His shoulders tightened. ‘She likes to think she doesn’t live in the real world. And now, with this, she gets to play the perfect role. The good guy. The fairy godmother. To orchestrate a happy ever after.’
‘For you and me?’
‘Who else?’ he asked sharply, hating the surprise in her voice. She winced, stepped back, brushed at her hair again. It spiralled around her face in that free and slightly wild way her curls dictated.
‘You’re saying your mother tricked us into being here together because she wants us to...reconcile?’ He nodded. ‘Why?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said sarcastically. ‘Maybe because we were happily married until I got home one day to find you’d disappeared?’ She blanched. ‘Or maybe I’d fooled myself into believing we were happy.’
She bit her lip, looked away. ‘Did she tell you that she wanted us to have a happy ever after?’
He gritted his teeth, then forced himself to relax. Control was key. ‘Not directly. But she’s been urging me to contact you for the last four months.’ He cocked his head. ‘How did she contact you?’
‘My...email. I’ve been checking my emails.’
Tension vibrated between them. As did the unspoken words.
I’ve been checking my emails. I just haven’t replied to yours.
‘I was always going to attend her birthday, Aaron,’ Rosa said softly. ‘You know this is about more than your mother. More than you and me.’
He did. Rosa’s mother had made his mother promise to celebrate each birthday with vigour. A reminder that they’d lived. That they’d had a life.
That had been a deathbed promise.
It angered him even more that his mother would use her birthday as an opportunity for her scheme. In all the years she’d manipulated situations—in all the years she’d blamed her ‘zest for life’ for interfering in other people’s lives—she’d never done anything this...conniving.
And in all the years since he’d taken responsibility for Liana since he’d realised she wouldn’t take responsibility herself, Aaron had never felt more betrayed.
Or perhaps the betrayal he felt about Rosa leaving was intensifying his reaction.
Whatever it was, he wouldn’t allow it to control him any more. He walked to the door...and cursed when he found it locked.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_21344146-14c7-5939-b3e8-a725f5c9cfd5)
‘WHAT?’ ROSA ASKED, anxiety pounding with her heart. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s locked.’
‘It’s—what?’ She strode past him and tried the handle of the door. It turned, but no amount of pressure made it open. ‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘This is not happening. We are not locked in here. There must be some mistake.’
Panic spurred her movements and she reached into the clutch she’d forgotten was in her hand. She took her phone out. ‘I have signal!’ she said triumphantly. ‘Only a few bars, but it should work. Who should I call?’
‘I suppose we could try the police.’ His calm voice was a stark contrast to the atmosphere around them.
‘Do you have the number?’
‘No.’
She stared at him. ‘How do you not have the number of the police?’
‘It’s on my phone. It’s dead,’ he said, nodding in the direction of the table where it lay.
‘You didn’t charge it,’ she said with a sigh. It was something he did—or didn’t do—regularly. Which had driven her crazy on good days. This day had been anything but good.
But if he was going to pretend to be calm—if he was going to pretend he wasn’t freaking out when she knew that he was—she could too.
‘Okay, so we don’t have the number for the police station. I’m assuming that covers all emergency services?’ He nodded. ‘I guess we better hope that nothing happens during this storm,’ she muttered, and scanned her contacts for the number she was looking for.
As if in response to her words, a streak of lightning whipped across the sky. It was closely followed by booms of thunder. Rosa closed her eyes and brought the phone to her ear.
‘Liana, we’re locked in,’ Rosa said the moment she heard Liana’s voice—distant, crackling—on the phone.
‘Rosa?’
‘Yes, it’s Rosa. Aaron and I are trapped on the top floor of the house.’
‘What?’ Static dulled the sound of Liana’s voice even more. ‘Did you get to the house safely?’
‘I’m fine. But we’re locked in, so we can’t get off the top floor.’
Liana didn’t reply and Rosa looked at the phone to see if they’d been cut off, but the call was still ongoing.
‘Here, let me try,’ Aaron said and she handed him the phone. And bit back the response that him speaking to his mother couldn’t magically make the connection better.
‘Mom? We’re locked on the top floor of the house. Hello? Hello?’
Rosa waited as Aaron fell silent, and then he looked at the display on the phone and sighed. ‘It cut off. I don’t think she got any of that.’
‘We could try someone else—’
She broke off when thunder echoed again, this time followed by a vicious flash of lightning. And then everything went dark.
‘Aaron?’
‘Yeah, I’m here.’
Her panic ebbed somewhat with the steadiness of his voice. ‘Does this mean what I think it means?’
‘Yeah, the power went out.’ She heard movement, and then the light of her phone shone between them. ‘The generator should be kicking in soon though.’
Silence spread between them as they waited.
And relief took the place of tension when the lights flickered on again.
‘I think we’re going to be stuck here for a while,’ Aaron said after a moment.
‘We could just try calling someone again.’
‘Who?’
‘Look up the number for the police,’ she snapped. Sucked in a breath. Told herself her confident façade was slipping. Ignored the voice in her head telling her it had slipped a long time ago.
Aaron didn’t reply and tapped on the screen of the phone. Then he looked up. ‘There’s no signal. It must have something to do with the electricity being out.’
‘That’s impossible. We can’t not have a connection.’
‘It’s Mariner’s Island,’ he said simply, as though it explained everything.
And, if she were honest with herself, it did. Mariner’s Island was tiny. The locals who lived and worked there did so for the sake of tourism. And it was the perfect tourist destination. In the summer. When the demands on power and the likelihood of storms were low.
There was a reason the airport had closed over the weekend. A reason the lights had gone out. The island thrived during summer, but survived during winter.
A clap of thunder punctuated her thoughts and she turned in time to see another flash of lightning streak across the sky. She badly wanted to try the door again, but when she turned back she saw Aaron watching her. And if she tried the door again she would be proving him right. She would be proving to him that she was running. She would look like a fool.
She didn’t want to look like a fool. A fool desperate not to be in the same room with the husband she’d left.
With the husband she still loved.
* * *
Again, Aaron found himself enthralled by the emotion on her face. She looked torn, though he didn’t know between what.
It wasn’t the ideal situation, them being locked in this room together. But it was what it was. And, since the storm was probably going to keep the good folk of Mariner’s Island in their homes, no one would be saving them for a while.
They’d have to accept that fact and do the best that they could.
It almost seemed as if he were okay with it. As if being alone with the woman who’d left him wouldn’t remind him of all the reasons he’d given himself for why she’d left.
His reluctance to be spontaneous. His caution surrounding their lives. How he always had to clean up the messes his mother created. How he did so without a word.
She hadn’t seemed to mind any of it before. But then she’d left, so what did he know?
‘You should turn your phone off.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Preserve the battery.’ He took off his jacket, loosened his tie. Threw them both over the couch. ‘We’re not calling anyone for a while, but we’ll have to do so tomorrow.’
‘But what if someone tries to contact us?’
‘No one is going to contact us.’
He opened the top button of his shirt, and then narrowed his eyes when he saw two suitcases in the corner of the room. He’d known something was up when he’d got to the top floor and saw that it hadn’t been set up for a party. Instead, it looked as it usually did when they visited normally.
Perhaps that had dulled his suspicions. He’d thought his mother had wanted them to share a meal, or that they’d meet there before going to the actual party.
He should have known better.
The pieces had only fallen into place when he’d seen Rosa. And he’d barely managed to see the whole picture those pieces painted when he’d been battling the emotion at seeing her again.
He walked over to the cases and laid them both on the bed. The first held men’s clothing. The second, women’s.
‘Is that lingerie?’
His lips twitched. ‘Yes.’
She’d come over from where she’d been standing on the opposite side of the bed and now began to throw the offending items out of the case. ‘Well, at least there are some other things here too.’ She paused. ‘Did your mother pack this?’
He shrugged.
‘The other things—’ she pulled out a casual-looking dress, holding it between her index finger and thumb ‘—are less...seductive, I suppose. But I don’t think any of them would fit me.’ She frowned. ‘If it was your mother, this makes no sense. She knows what size I am.’
‘Maybe the selection was meant to seduce anyway.’ He fought to steady his voice. ‘You’d be able to wear that, but it would be tighter than what you’re used to. Or more uncomfortable. So you’d—’
‘Be encouraged to wear the lingerie?’
‘I was going to say you’d look different.’ He said the words deliberately now, determined not to show her how the conversation was messing with his head.
‘There’s nothing wrong with how I usually dress.’
‘No,’ he agreed.
‘So...what? Tighter, more uncomfortable—different—clothing would seduce you? And then we’d reunite.’ She said the last words under her breath, as though saying them to herself. ‘There isn’t anything I can wear here that’s appropriate for this.’ She gestured around them.
‘I don’t think my mother intended this.’
‘Us being trapped?’
He nodded. ‘She probably wanted us to go out and enjoy the island like we have in the past.’ He let that sit for a moment. ‘You’re free to use whatever she’s packed for me.’
‘It’ll probably only be jeans and shirts.’
You could wear the lingerie, if you like.
The words seared his brain. Out loud, he said, ‘You’re welcome to help yourself.’
He walked to the other side of the room, as though somehow the distance would keep him from remembering her in lingerie. And what had happened after he’d seen her in lingerie. It would do nothing for his need for control to remember that.
He eyed the alcohol his mother had left on the counter of the kitchen—at least she’d done that—and reached for the rum and soda water, adding ice from the freezer. He was sipping it when he faced her again, but her back was towards him and the memories he’d tried to suppress struggled free, even though he couldn’t see her front.
But he didn’t need to.
Because, from where he stood, he could see the strong curve of her shoulders, the sweeping slope of her neck. He’d only have to press a kiss there, have his tongue join, and she would moan. She’d grab his hands as his mouth did its work and pull them around her, over her breasts, encouraging him to touch them...
He gritted his teeth. Reminded himself—again—that he needed to be in control. But his reaction wasn’t a surprise. His attraction to Rosa had always goaded him in this way. When he’d first seen her—her curves, the curls around her face, the golden-brown of her skin—it had kicked him in the gut.
He’d managed to ignore it for a full year, and only because both their mothers had been going through chemotherapy and acting on his attraction had seemed inappropriate. But their year of friendship hadn’t been enough for him. And their chemistry had constantly reminded him of its presence.
Stalking him. Mocking him.
It was why control was so important now. He couldn’t act on his attraction this time. He couldn’t show Rosa how much she’d hurt him when she’d left. And how shaken he was to see her again. He’d only just begun to face the fact that the morning she’d left might have been the last time he’d ever see her...
Control meant that he had a plan. And plans were how he lived his life. How he made sure his law firm remained successful. How he tried to make sure his mother hadn’t created another problem for him to fix.
He hadn’t had a plan in his marriage, and he’d wondered if that had contributed to how—and why—it had ended so abruptly.
Or had his need to plan been the cause of its end?
He took a long drag from his drink and shook the feelings away. He might not know if his plans—his need for control—had contributed to Rosa leaving, but having a plan was the only way he’d survive the night.
Now he just had to come up with one.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_c971648a-30f7-5b34-b430-12951ea46442)
‘DO YOU HAVE any intention of offering me a drink?’ Rosa asked when she turned back and saw Aaron sipping from a glass. It was filled with golden liquid, the kind she was pretty sure would help steady the nerves fluttering in her stomach.
‘What do you want?’ he asked flatly.
She almost winced. ‘Whatever you’re having is fine.’
He nodded and went about making her drink. She walked towards him cautiously and then busied herself with putting the bottles from the counter into the cabinet beneath. It wasn’t necessary, but it was a way to keep her hands busy. Especially since something about his expression made her want to do something remarkably different with her hands.
Or was that because the clothing—the lingerie—had reminded her of all the times she’d wanted to seduce him? Of all the times it had worked?
Her hands shook and she waited for them to steady before she packed the last bottle away.
‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘I know.’
But I was thinking about all the times we made love and I needed a distraction.
‘Do you think your mother left something for us to eat?’
‘Try the fridge.’
She did, though she wasn’t hungry. Again, it was just because she wanted something to do. To distract from the ache in her body. From the ache in her heart.
She found the fridge fully stocked.
‘How nice of her,’ Rosa said wryly. Her patience with Liana had dropped dramatically after the seductive clothing thing. And now, finding the fridge filled with food, she couldn’t deny that Liana had planned this any more.
She’d indulged Liana over the years she’d got to know the woman. Understandably, she thought, considering Liana’s history with her mother. With her, during Violet’s declining health. And...after.
But Rosa had let that influence her view of Liana’s actions. Actions that Rosa had condoned by not speaking out. She wouldn’t let that happen again—once they got out of their current situation.
‘It’s full?’
‘Yeah.’ The hairs on her neck stood when Aaron moved in behind her to look for himself. ‘There’s this dish—’ she took it out, handed it to him—anything to get him away from her ‘—which I assume is something readymade for this evening. And the rest is ingredients to make meals. Eggs, vegetables, that sort of thing.’
‘There was some meat in the freezer.’
Rosa closed the fridge. ‘She’s thought of everything, hasn’t she?’
‘She generally does,’ Aaron said and handed her the drink. She braced herself for the contact, but it didn’t help. A spark flared anyway. She’d never really been able to come to terms with the attraction she felt for him. That she’d felt for him since day one.
Or with your love for him, a voice whispered in her head, reminding her of why she’d had to leave—before either of those things had tempted her into staying.
Staying wouldn’t have done either of them any good.
‘She just doesn’t think about consequences.’
‘Oh, I think she knows.’ She removed the foil that covered the top of the dish and found a rice and chicken meal of some kind. She took out two plates and, without asking him if he wanted any, dished portions for both of them. ‘That there are consequences, I mean.’
‘But she never stops to consider what those consequences might be.’ His voice was steady, but there was frustration there. He’d never been able to hide it completely when he was talking about his mother. ‘You know how many times I’ve had to deal with consequences that weren’t favourable. Like the time she gave her car to a guy she met at a conference she attended.’
Rosa nodded. ‘She thought it would be easier for him to get to his job in the city if he had a car. And that would make sure he didn’t lose his job, and that he’d be able to look after his family.’
‘Instead, the man still lost his job because he couldn’t drive, and he ended up selling the car, which then got him into trouble with the police because she hadn’t transferred the car into his name.’
‘And you had to sort it all out,’ she said softly. The microwave sounded, and she handed Aaron the heated plate before putting in her own. ‘I’m sorry, ba—’
She stopped herself. She’d been about to call him ‘baby’. And it wouldn’t have been like the ‘honey’ he’d called her when she’d first tried to leave. No, that had been said sardonically. This? This would have been said lovingly. Endearingly.
It was because of the routine she’d slipped into. Dishing for him, heating his food. Normal parts of what had been their life before. But that life was gone. She’d walked away from it. It didn’t matter why or how—she had. Which meant accepting that she couldn’t just slip back into routine.
The microwave finished heating her food and she used it as an excuse to turn her back to him. To ignore the emotion that was swirling inside her.
‘You didn’t change,’ he said into the silence that had settled in the room. She took her plate and drink to the couch and tried to figure out how to sit down without the slit revealing her leg.
‘No,’ she replied after a moment, and then gave up and lowered to the seat. She set her food on the coffee table in front of them, covered as much leg as she could and then took a long sip of the drink before she answered him. ‘As I predicted, there were only a couple of shirts in there and jeans. The jeans wouldn’t fit me.’
He settled at the opposite end of the couch. ‘You could have worn one of the shirts.’
She lifted a brow. ‘And that wouldn’t have been...distracting?’
‘What you’re wearing now isn’t?’
His eyes lowered to the leg she’d been trying to cover, and then moved up to her cleavage.
‘I’ll go change,’ she said in a hoarse voice, setting her drink down.
‘No, you don’t have to.’
His gaze lifted to her face, though his expression didn’t do anything to help the flush that was slowly making its way through her body.
‘It’s probably for the best.’
‘Are you afraid I’ll do something neither of us wants?’
‘No.’
Because both of us would want it.
‘I just think it would be better for us not to...cross any boundaries.’
‘Are there boundaries?’ he asked casually, though she wasn’t fooled by it. She could hear the danger beneath the façade. ‘I didn’t realise a married couple had boundaries.’
‘That’s not quite what we are now, though.’
‘No? Did I miss the divorce papers you sent to me while you were in Cape Town?’
Bile churned in her stomach. ‘There are no divorce papers.’ She frowned. ‘You knew where I was?’
He nodded. ‘I needed to make sure you were okay.’
She closed her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think—’
‘That I’d want to know that you were alive?’
‘I took my clothes. I thought—’ She broke off as shame filled her. ‘I should have let you know.’
A chill swept over her as she took in his blank expression. ‘You said we aren’t quite married, but you haven’t asked for a divorce.’ He stopped, though she clearly heard the yet he hadn’t said. ‘Which is it, Rosa?’
And, though his expression was still clear of emotion, the danger in his voice was coming out in full now. She swallowed and reached for her drink again.
‘I don’t want to get into this,’ she said after she’d taken another healthy sip. She’d need a refill soon if she went on like this.
‘You can’t get out of it. We’re stuck here.’
‘I know.’ Couldn’t forget it if she tried. ‘I also know that if we start talking about this stuff, being trapped here is going to be a lot harder than it needs to be.’
‘Stuff,’ he repeated softly. Her eyes met his and she saw the anger there. ‘Is that what you call leaving me after five years of being together? After three years of marriage?’
‘I call it life,’ she replied sharply. ‘Life happened, and I had to go.’ She stood. ‘There’s no point in rehashing it now.’
He stood with her, and the body she’d always loved cast a shadow over her. ‘Where are you going to go, Rosa?’ he asked. ‘There’s nowhere to run. This room is open-plan. The only other room is the bathroom, and even then you wouldn’t be able to stay there for ever.’
She took a step back. Lowered to the couch slowly. ‘You’re taking too much joy from this.’
‘This isn’t joy.’ He sat back down, though his body didn’t relax. She nearly rolled her eyes. What did he think he was going to have to do? Tackle her if she tried to get past him?
‘What would you call it then?’
‘Satisfaction. Karma.’
‘Karma?’ she said with a bark of laughter. ‘I didn’t realise you believed in karma.’
‘I didn’t. Until today. Now. When it’s become clear how much you want to run from this—from me—and can’t.’
Now she did roll her eyes. ‘And what are you paying for? What did you do that was so bad that you deserve to be locked in a room with the wife who left you?’
His features tightened. ‘Maybe I don’t believe in karma then.’
‘Sounds like you’re taking the easy way out.’
‘Or like I’m doing whatever the hell suits me.’ His voice was hard, and surprise pressed her to ask what she’d said that had upset him.
But she didn’t. She didn’t deserve to know.
‘Doing whatever the hell suits you does sound like you’re enjoying this.’
‘Maybe I am. Hard to tell since I’ve forced myself not to feel anything since you left.’
And there it was. The honesty, the vulnerability that had always seeped past the coolness he showed the world. The emotion that showed her how deeply he cared, even when he pretended he didn’t.
It had always managed to penetrate whatever wall she’d put up with him. Or whatever wall he’d put up to make her believe he didn’t feel. But he did. Which made her actions so much worse.
She’d done many stupid things in her life. Most of them because she’d wanted to find out who she was after giving so much of herself to her mother.
Like dropping out of college because she didn’t think they were teaching her what she needed to know about design.
Like moving out when she was tired of being responsible for her mother’s mental health.
Like ignoring her mother’s phone calls for almost two months after she moved out, because she thought Violet was trying to manipulate her into coming back home. When really her mother had been calling to tell her about her cancer.
She hadn’t thought anything about her relationship with Aaron had been stupid. At least she hadn’t until she’d found the lump. Until it had reminded her of how stupid she’d been by choosing not to be tested for breast cancer when her mother’s doctors had advised it.
And suddenly all the uncertainty she’d battled with in the past about her decisions had returned. Maybe they’d never really gone away. And the disaster scenario of what that lump could mean had echoed her mother’s own anxieties so closely that it had reminded Rosa that she was her mother’s child.
It would have been selfish of her to stay. To put Aaron through what she’d gone through with her mother. To put him through anything that would cause him to suffer as he had when his mother had been ill.
‘Maybe that’s for the best,’ she told him, kicking off her shoes. ‘If we don’t feel anything, we don’t get hurt. And since we’re already in this situation—’ she waved between them ‘—committing ourselves to not getting hurt doesn’t sound so bad, does it?’
* * *
He stared at her. ‘Are you...are you serious?’
‘Yes,’ she said, and lifted the plate she’d set on the table, resting it on her lap as she leaned back into the couch. ‘Doesn’t it sound appealing to you? Us not hurting each other?’
‘Is that why you left? Because I hurt you?’
She toyed with the food on her plate. ‘No,’ she said, lifting her gaze to his. ‘You didn’t hurt me.’
‘Then why did you leave?’
‘Because I would be hurting you by staying.’
‘Why?’ But she shook her head. ‘Rosa, you can’t just tell me something like that and not give me anything else.’ Still, she didn’t answer him. He clenched his jaw. ‘You don’t think you’re hurting me now? With this?’
‘I know I am.’
‘And that doesn’t mean anything to you?’
‘It...can’t.’
He wanted to shout. To demand answers from her. But that would only keep her from talking to him.
And he needed her to talk to him. He needed to know why she was saying things his wife never would have said. The Rosa he’d married would never have given up on anything. She would never have settled for backing away from the possibility of pain when there was a possibility for joy.
Or perhaps this was karma, like he’d said. Maybe this was his karma. For not acting with reason when it came to Rosa. She’d only been twenty-three when they’d married. He’d been twenty-six. Older. Wiser.
At least old enough to know that she might not have been ready to marry him. She’d still been grieving for her mother when he’d proposed. Her decision might not have been entirely thought through.
But as he thought back to the moment he’d proposed he couldn’t remember any hesitation from Rosa...
* * *
He wanted everything to be perfect. Simple but perfect. That was his plan. And, since only he and Rosa were on the beach in front of the house on Mariner’s Island, there’d be no one but himself to blame if everything didn’t go perfectly.
He took a deep breath and Rosa looked up at him. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You’re sure?’ Her brow furrowed. ‘Because you’ve been quiet since we got here. I mean, quieter than usual.’
She gave him a small smile and his heart tumbled. Even her smile could make his heart trip over itself. No wonder he was proposing to her when he’d never thought he’d get married.
‘I’m thinking.’
‘About?’
‘This. Us.’
‘Really?’ She pressed in closer at his side when the wind nipped at their skin. It was cooler than he would have liked, but he supposed that was what he got by wanting to propose just as the sun was going down on an autumn day. ‘And what have you come up with?’
‘You’re amazing.’
His feet stopped, though they weren’t close to the place where he’d planned on proposing. This was good enough. Waves were crashing at their feet. Sand around them. The sun shining over them as though it approved of his actions.
Besides, none of that mattered anyway. Not any more. All that mattered was her. And that he couldn’t imagine another moment going by without knowing that she’d one day be his wife.
‘Well, yeah,’ she said with a smile that faded when she saw his expression. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I have something for you.’
‘Okay.’ Confusion lined every feature of her beautiful face, but there was trust in her eyes. He hoped he would never betray that trust. ‘Aaron?’ she asked quietly after a moment. ‘Are you going to tell me what it is?’
Instead of replying, he stepped back from her and removed the rose petals he’d been keeping in his pocket. It had been a silly idea, he thought now as the confusion intensified on her face. But it was too late to stop now.
He cleared his throat. ‘I got these from the house.’
‘You stole...petals from the garden?’ Her lips curved. ‘Just petals? Not the actual flowers?’
He smiled. ‘I wanted to take a picture of you standing in a shower of petals.’
‘Aaron,’ she said after a moment. ‘You realise you’re being weird, right?’
His smile widened. But he only nodded. She let out a frustrated sigh. ‘Okay, fine. Should I just—’ She cupped her hands and mimicked throwing the petals into the air.
‘Yes. But throw them over your shoulder.’ He handed her the petals, careful to protect them from the wind. ‘So, turn your back to me while I get the camera ready.’
There was impatience in her eyes now, but she didn’t say anything. Only turned her back to him. She was indulging him, he thought. Because that was who she was. Always putting him first, even when she didn’t understand why.
He took the ring from his pocket and took another deep breath. And then he got down on one knee and said, ‘I’m ready.’
She threw the petals into the sky and turned, a smile on her face for the picture she’d thought he was about to take. At first the confusion returned. Her eyes searched for where she’d thought he’d be as the petals swirled around them. Then, as they were carried up and away by the wind, her gaze lowered, settling on him.
She sucked in her breath and then, on an exhale, said his name. The surprise had turned into something deeper, more meaningful, as she did. And suddenly all the fear, all the uncertainty disappeared.
It was going to be perfect.
That was the last thing he thought before telling her why he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
* * *
No, he thought as he closed his eyes briefly. There had been no hesitation when Rosa had accepted his proposal.
But hadn’t his mother shown him that he would need to take responsibility for others at some time in his life? So why hadn’t he realised Rosa might have needed that from him too?
But now that he thought about it, he wondered if it was because he had been responsible when it came Rosa. He’d promised her mother that he would look after her. And, since he’d loved her so damn much, marriage had seemed like the perfect way to do it.
But maybe that had been his mistake.
Or maybe he was the mistake...
‘Okay,’ he said curtly, ripping himself out of the web his memories had caught him in. ‘Do you want another drink?’
She blinked at him, and then silently nodded and handed him her glass. He deliberately brushed his fingers against hers as he took it, and saw the slight shake of her hand as she drew it back to her lap.
He turned away from her, satisfaction pouring through him. Whatever it was that she was going through—whatever it was that they were going through—he hadn’t made up their attraction. And that attraction had come from their feelings for one another.
Perhaps he’d made one too many mistakes with Rosa. Heaven knew he had with his mother, so it might not have been different with his wife. But at least he could make sure Rosa didn’t forget that they were drawn to one another. Something neither of them had ever been able to deny.
And then what? an inner voice asked as he poured their drinks. Would they just become hyperaware of their attraction, since their feelings were seemingly out of bounds, and then let it fizzle out between them?
There was no way that was happening. And if they acted on it...what would that mean for him? For them? Would she just walk away from him again? Would he just let her go?
An uncomfortable feeling stirred in his stomach and he walked back to her, setting her glass down on the table to avoid any more touching. He had no idea what he wanted to achieve with her. With his marriage. And he’d never thought he would be in the position to have to worry about it.
He’d thought he’d done everything right in his life. He’d looked after a mother who hadn’t cared about looking after herself. About looking after him. He’d got a stable job. Succeeded in it. He’d fallen in love—though it had been unplanned—and he’d married.
And still everything had gone wrong.
Though, if he was being honest with himself, perhaps that had started when his mother had been diagnosed with cancer and he’d realised the extent of his mistakes.
Now, the fear that had grown in the past four months pulsed in his chest. Had him facing the fact that everyone in his life who was supposed to love him had left him. His mother. His father. And now Rosa...
He couldn’t deny that he was the problem any more.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_0570607d-3ec6-5df5-a1be-9b92376b1d18)
‘SO, WHAT HAVE you been doing these last four months?’
Somehow, she managed to keep her tone innocent. As if she wasn’t asking because she desperately wanted a glimpse into the life he’d made without her.
It was veering into dangerous territory, that question, and yet it was the safest thing Rosa could think to ask. Something mundane. Something that didn’t have anything to do with what they’d been talking about before.
Feelings. Emotions. Their relationship.
But the expression on his face told her that perhaps the question wasn’t as safe as she’d thought. Still, he answered her.
‘Work.’
‘Work?’ When he didn’t offer more, she pressed. ‘What about work? New clients?’
‘New clients.’
She bit back a sigh. ‘And?’
‘We’re expanding.’
‘Oh.’
Expanding? He’d never spoken about the desire to expand before. His law firm was one of the most prestigious family practices in Gauteng. He had wealthy clientele, made sure his firm helped those in need, and he’d always spoken about how content he’d been. Proud, even. So why was he expanding?
She waited for him to offer an explanation. He didn’t. And she didn’t have the courage to ask him. Not when she would have known if she’d just stayed.
‘You?’
Her gaze sprang to his. She hadn’t expected him to engage. ‘I’ve been working on a new line. Evening gowns.’
‘Like the one you’re wearing.’
‘Exactly like the one I’m wearing. For women like me.’
His eyes swept over her, heating her body with the faint desire she saw on his face. He was controlling it well, she thought. He never had before. She’d always known when Aaron desired her. It would start with a look in his eyes—much more ardent than what she saw there now—and then he’d say something seductive and follow his words with actions.
She’d loved those times. Loved how unapologetic they had been. How freeing. And since they both had problems with being free—no matter how much she pretended that she didn’t—those moments were special.
And now she’d lost them.
‘It’ll be popular.’
‘I hope so.’ She paused. ‘I did a sample line. I’ve been promoting it on the website for the past month, and it’s got some great feedback. I might even do a showcase.’
‘I told you it would be great.’
‘You did.’
Neither of them mentioned that for years he’d been telling her that she needed to make clothes for herself. For others like her. But that wasn’t why she’d got into fashion. At least, not at first. She loved colours, patterns, prints. She loved how bold they could be, or how understated. She loved the contrast of them—the lines, the shapes.
She hadn’t wanted to confine herself when she’d started out. She’d wanted to experiment, to explore, to learn about everything. And, because she had, she now had momentum after being labelled a fresh and exciting young designer. Enough that she could finally design the clothes she wanted to. For women who looked like her. Who were bigger. Who weren’t conventionally curvy.
She’d shared all her worries, her fears, her excitement with Aaron. And she wanted nothing more than to tell him about the challenges, the joys she’d had creating this new line now.
But the brokenness between them didn’t lend itself to that discussion.
Her heart sank and her eyes slid closed.
How had her safe question led to this?
* * *
Watching her was going to be the only way he’d figure out what was going on in her head. It was clear she wasn’t going to tell him. And, since he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming himself, he could hardly ask her what was causing the turmoil on her face.
But he couldn’t be forthcoming. How was he supposed to tell her that his expansion plans had started the moment his mother had informed him of where Rosa was? He hadn’t been interested in finding her...at least, that was what he’d told himself. But then he’d received Liana’s email telling him Rosa was in Cape Town.
And suddenly he was planning to expand his firm to Cape Town.
How was he supposed to tell her all that?
‘Oh, look,’ she said softly, her gaze shifting to behind him. The pain had subsided from her face—had been replaced by wonder—tempting him to keep looking at her.
Dutifully—though reluctantly—he followed her gaze and saw that she was watching the rain. He didn’t know what she found so fascinating about it. Sure, it was coming down hard, fast and every now and then a flash of lightning would streak through it. But still, it looked like rain to him. Regular old rain.
And yet when he looked back to Rosa’s face he could have sworn she had just seen the first real unicorn.
She got up and walked in her beautiful gown to the glass doors, laying a hand on them as though somehow that would allow her to touch the rain. It was surprisingly tender, but he refuted that description almost immediately. What he was witnessing wasn’t tender. How could his wife watching the rain be tender?
But he couldn’t get the word out of his mind as she spent a few more minutes there. Then she walked to the light switch in the kitchen and turned it off. The entire room went dark and she murmured, ‘Just for a moment,’ before returning to her place at the door.
He still wasn’t sure what was so special about it. About watching the rain in the dark. But her reaction had cast a spell around him. And now he was walking towards her, stopping next to her and watching the rain pour from the sky in torrents.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen a storm more beautiful,’ she said softly from beside him.
‘An exaggeration,’ he commented with a half-smile.
She laughed. Looked up at him with twinkling eyes. ‘Of course it is. But I like to think that I use my opportunities to exaggerate for effect. Is it working?’ she asked with a wink.
His smile widened and, though his heart was still broken from her leaving, and his mind was still lapping up every piece of information she’d given as to why, as they looked at each other, he was caught by her.
He told himself it was the part of him that wanted things to go back to the way they’d been before. The part that mourned because it was no longer an option. Not with how things had shifted between them. Not when that shift had confirmed that they were no longer the same people they’d been before she’d left.
And still he was caught by her.
By her brown eyes, and the twinkle that was slowly turning into something else as the seconds ticked by. By the angles of her face—some soft, some sharp, all beautiful.
He didn’t know why he still felt so drawn to the woman beside him when she wasn’t the woman he’d fallen in love with any more. Or was it himself he didn’t recognise? He’d spent the four months since she’d left racking his brain for answers about what had gone wrong. And what he’d come up with had forced him to see himself in a new light. A dim one that made him prickly because it spoke of things he’d ignored for most of his life.
‘Why do you still make me feel like this?’
He hadn’t realised he’d spoken until her eyes widened. His gaze dipped to her mouth as she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. It instantly had his body responding, and he took a step towards her—
And then suddenly there was a blast of cold air on him and Rosa was on the balcony in the rain.
‘Rosa! What are you doing?’
But she turned her back to him and was now opening her palms to the rain, spreading her fingers as though she wanted to catch the drops, but at the same time wanted them to fall through her fingers.
‘Rosa!’ he said again when she didn’t answer him. But it was no use. She didn’t give any indication that she’d heard him.
He cursed and then took off his shoes and stepped out onto the balcony with her, hissing out his breath when the ice-cold drops immediately drenched his skin.
Her eyes fluttered open when he stopped next to her, and he clearly saw the shock in them. ‘What are you doing?’
‘The same thing as you, apparently,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘Care to explain why we’re out getting soaked in the rain?’
‘I didn’t think you’d—’ She broke off, the expression on her face frustratingly appealing. Damn it. How was that possible when their lives were such a mess?
‘Rosa,’ he growled.
‘I wanted to get out of that room,’ she said. ‘I wanted to breathe in proper fresh air and not the stifling air in that room.’
‘That room is over one hundred and fifty square metres.’
‘You know that’s not what I meant,’ she snapped. ‘I just felt...trapped. With you. In there.’
‘You felt trapped with me,’ he repeated.
‘No, not like that,’ she said. ‘I felt... It’s just that room. And the fact that resisting you—resisting us—is so hard. Everything between us is suddenly so hard.’ She let out a sound that sounded suspiciously like a sob. ‘Mostly I feel trapped by what I did to us.’ She closed her eyes and when she opened them again he felt the pain there as acutely as if it were in his own body. ‘I threw what we had away.’
He took a step forward, the desire to take her into his arms, to comfort her compelling him. But then he stopped and told himself that he couldn’t comfort her when he didn’t know why. That he couldn’t comfort her when, by all rights, she was supposed to be comforting him.
She’d left him behind. She’d hurt him.
And yet there he was, outside, soaking wet in the rain because of her.
He moved back. Ignored the flash of hurt in her eyes.
‘We’re going to get sick if we stay out here,’ he said after a moment.
‘So go back inside,’ she mumbled miserably.
It was a stark reminder that she hadn’t asked him to come outside in the rain with her. And it would be logical to listen to her and go back inside.
Instead, he sighed and held his ground. Tried to commit the experience to memory. He suspected that some day he’d want—no, need—to remember this moment, however nonsensical it appeared to be.
To remember how she looked with her curls weighed down by the rainwater, the make-up she wore smudged dramatically on her face. How her one-of-a-kind dress clung to her beautiful body, reminding him of all that he’d had.
To remember how this—standing on a balcony while it poured with rain—spoke of her spirit. The passion, the spontaneity. How he’d never consider doing something like this and yet somehow he found it endearing.
Heaven only knew why he wanted to remember it. Because the feelings that accompanied it gutted him. The longing, the regret. The disappointment. Heaven only knew why he was thinking about how incredibly beautiful she was when empirical evidence should have made him think otherwise.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ she demanded.
The misery, the pain in her voice had disappeared. Had been replaced with the passion he was used to.
‘Like what?’
‘Like that,’ she told him, without giving any more indication of what she meant. ‘You know what you’re doing.’
Was he that obvious? ‘I’m waiting for you to decide to go inside.’
She stepped closer to him. ‘No, you weren’t.’
‘You’ll get sick.’
‘And you won’t?’ He lifted his shoulders in response. She took another step forward. ‘You’re not helping me feel any less trapped than I already do, Aaron.’
Again, he shrugged. Again, she took a step forward.
‘And you’re not as unaffected by all this as you’re pretending.’
‘What are you doing?’ he asked, clasping her wrist just before her hand reached his face. Somehow, she’d closed the distance between them as she’d said her last words without him noticing.
‘I’m trying to show you that you’re not as aloof as you believe,’ she said, and dropped her hand with a triumphant smile. ‘I told you.’
He didn’t reply. He couldn’t do so without telling her that she was right—unaffected was the last thing he felt. But he showed her. Slid an arm around her waist and hauled her against him.
‘Maybe you’re right,’ he said, his voice slightly breathless, though measured, he thought. But he could be wrong. Hell, he could have been imitating the President of South Africa right then and he wouldn’t have known. ‘Maybe I was thinking about the first time we kissed.’ He dipped his head lower. ‘You remember.’
It wasn’t a question. And the way her breath quickened—the way her hand shook as she wiped the rain from her brow—confirmed it.
* * *
‘Aaron, wait!’
He turned back just in time to see Rosa running towards him. His stomach flipped as it always did when he saw her. And he steeled himself against it. He couldn’t fall into the attraction. He hadn’t for the last year. He could survive whatever she was running to tell him.
‘Would you give me a lift home?’ she asked breathlessly when she reached him. As she asked—as he nodded—a menacing boom sounded in the sky before rain began pouring down on them.
‘Here, get in,’ he said, starting towards the passenger’s side of the car. But she put a hand on his chest before he could make any progress, and he held his breath.
Control. Steel.
‘No,’ she replied tiredly. She leaned back against his car, dropping her hand and lifting her head to the sky. ‘No, this is exactly what I need.’
‘To be drenched in rain?’
She laughed huskily and need pierced him. ‘No. Just...a break.’
‘Hard day?’
‘Isn’t every day?’
She glanced back at the hospital where her mother was staying overnight. His mother had a chemo session but she’d left the book she’d wanted to read at home. And since Rosa’s mother—Liana’s usual companion—had started a new course of treatment, she wasn’t in Liana’s session to keep her company.
And because Liana knew Aaron would do anything to make what she was going through easier, she’d asked him to fetch her book.
‘But today was particularly hard,’ Rosa continued with a sigh. ‘I had to meet a deadline for a couple of designs. And my creativity hasn’t exactly been flowing over the last few months.’
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