by Nicola Marsh
Her eyes focused on the polished boards beneath her feet, unwilling to meet his gaze, though it was the slightest slump of her shoulders that had him broaching the distance between them.
She stiffened at his approach and he forced himself to keep his hands by his sides when all he wanted to do was touch her and hold her and reassure her that he was feeling just as confounded as her.
‘Tell me, Ava.’
Her bottom lip quivered for a second and he clenched his fists to stop from bundling her into his arms, answers be damned.
Before he could think of something to say to retrieve this situation, she lifted her head and squared her shoulders.
‘Was I just a challenge for you? The newest and brightest thing before you move on to the next?’
He swore and this time followed his instincts, crushing her to him. She resisted at first, her body stiff and unyielding but he didn’t let go and after several seconds she relaxed into him.
‘You know that’s not how I think of you.’
He only just heard her muffled, ‘How do I know?’
Gently disengaging, he held her at arm’s length. ‘Because we both felt that zing at the start, that special something drawing us together.’
He tilted her chin up and stared into her eyes. ‘We’ve got an amazing chemistry and it was right there from the very beginning, surely you see that?’
Understanding scudded across her eyes as she reluctantly nodded.
‘Is that why you’ve been keeping your distance? Because you took one of my answers to your interview questions and twisted it around to second-guess yourself?’
She didn’t need to answer; he saw all the affirmation he needed in her slight grimace.
Rubbing her upper arms, he said, ‘Listen to me. You’re a gorgeous, warm-hearted, incredible woman and I’ve had an unforgettable time.’
His stroking slowed as an answering spark lit her eyes. ‘We don’t have that much time left together. Let’s make the most of it.’
Indecision warred with yearning before she deliberately looked away and he knew if he was to convince her he’d have to give her something more.
‘You were right about me holding back. About my family.’
For the first time since he’d barged his way in here she touched him, a briefest brushing of her fingertips against the back of his hand, encouraging him to go on.
‘You already know I haven’t a clue about my dad.’
The urge to step back was strong but he forced his feet to stay. He’d finally made some inroads into getting Ava to listen; he’d be a fool to stuff it up now.
‘And I think that’s half the problem with my mum, the fact that whoever the guy was he’s not around any more.’
He wished she’d say something but she remained silent, her attention unwavering. For a guy who usually lapped up this kind of attention, he found himself battling the urge to squirm. Then again, having the adulation and admiration following a jump was a hell of a lot easier to cope with than this intense one-on-one attention when he was semi-baring his soul.
‘When I was a kid, my mum didn’t want to know me. She pretty much ignored me most of the time, which I hated. ’Til I started hating something else more.’
This time she slid her hand into his, intertwining her fingers through his before squeezing in reassurance.
‘She had these really dark patches, where she’d hole up in her room for days. I learned not to intrude when she went ballistic once after I tried to bring her food.’
Acid burned his gut as he remembered the rest: the insults, the put-downs, the deliberate silences that went on for days. Ironic, in the end he’d come to prefer those fraught silences than her ranting.
‘As I got older I realised those dark times were when she drank. Which didn’t make sense, because I thought alcoholics craved a drink all the time but she’d be sober for a while then suddenly boom, she’d be hiding away with her stash.’
The gleam of tears in Ava’s eyes slugged him as hard as his memories.
‘I’m so sorry you had to grow up with that,’ she said, holding his hand so tight it tingled.
He nodded his thanks, spooked by this urge to unburden himself but grateful if he had to talk about it that Ava was the listener.
‘She’s always had this inherent sadness that I attributed to not having my dad around, or maybe he broke her heart. Whatever the reason, her condition has worsened and these days she refuses help. The few stints in rehab have been a bust when she checks out after a day or two, she ignores medical advice…’
He choked off his ‘and me’ for it was pretty obvious from Estelle’s sorry tale that her son had little influence in her life.
‘What about you? Does she listen to you?’
His harsh laugh held little humour. ‘I’m usually there to pick up the pieces but no, my opinion means little.’
‘Have you tried—?’
‘I’ve tried everything and now I’m done.’
She flinched as if he’d struck her. ‘She’s your mum, you can’t abandon her—’
‘She’s threatened to ruin me, to take away the one thing she knows I’ve worked so hard for.’
Ava radiated pity and he hated it.
‘My reputation is important to me, she knows that, and she said she’ll plaster our sordid little family tale across the media.’
He wrenched his hand from hers and dragged it through his hair. ‘Extreme sports is my life and I’ve spent years cultivating my reputation and it’s helped get me to the top. I’ve got it all now. Fame. Recognition. Sponsors. Money. And the head-honcho job. But do you think she’s happy for me?’
He shook his head, the pain of having his own mother want to ruin him slashing him anew.
‘She wants to tear it all down, to turn the media I’ve learned to twist around my finger against me, unless I stop insisting on rehab.’
Ava laid a hand on his arm. ‘She’s only lashing out because she’s frightened, terrified even.’
She wasn’t the only one. Right now, with Ava touching him, listening to him, understanding him, he was terrified too, terrified of how she made him feel: as if he could tell her anything.
‘I guess you’re right. I’m the closest to her so I cop the brunt.’
Her hand slid down his forearm to clasp his. ‘Has she made empty threats before?’
He shook his head, not wanting to relive their final confrontation even in his head. ‘Nothing like this.’
‘You’re all she’s got. She’s probably afraid to lose you.’
It was as if a switch had flicked in his head and he stared at Ava in amazement. ‘So you think she’s trying to drive me away before I walk, that kind of thing?’
‘Could be.’
She squeezed his hand for reassurance. ‘If she refused to go to rehab and you’ve had enough of her binges, she must be petrified you’re going to walk out of her life and never come back.’
‘And the threat’s a way of getting my attention and keeping me close.’
She nodded. ‘She’s your mother so she probably won’t do it but either way you’ve got to confront this and sort it out.’
Feeling as if a weight had fallen from his shoulders, he glanced at the phone. ‘She rang yesterday, left a civil message. I haven’t returned her call.’
‘Maybe you should?’
Ava released his hand and he immediately wanted to grab it back, to hold on to it for strength, for support, and that was when he realised how important she’d become to him.
No one knew about his mum. Not his sporting buddies, not his co-workers, not any of the women he dated.
Yet in less than a week Ava had crawled into his heart and curled up there, a niggling reminder that he wasn’t as immune to emotional involvement as he’d always professed.
He cupped her cheek. ‘Thanks.’
‘For what? Speaking your thoughts out loud? I was just a sounding board—’
‘For listening, for understanding.’
He wanted to kiss her so badly he ached but he reined in his impulse, knowing he’d shatter the tenuous bond they’d developed over the last few minutes with any overt displays of physicality.
Until now, that was all their relationship had been built on and it had suited him just fine. They’d be separating in a few days, their lives heading down different paths. So why the insistent, gnawing unease he’d be losing something precious?
She must’ve seen a spark in his eyes for she stepped away, his hand falling uselessly to his side.
‘I really do have to work.’
Her rejection now, after he’d just unburdened himself for the first time to a woman, stung like hell.
‘But maybe we can catch up later?’
The tension around his mouth eased into a smile. ‘You’re on.’
Unable to resist touching her one last time, he traced her deliciously tempting bottom lip with his thumb. ‘Let me know when you’re done, okay?’
Her tongue darted out to follow the path his thumb had just traversed and his groin tightened in response.
He had to get out of here.
‘See you later.’
He’d almost made it out of the door when she said, ‘Thanks for trusting me enough to share that stuff about your mum.’
With his hand on the door handle, his heart gave another uncharacteristic lurch and this time, he bolted.
Ava had run out of excuses to stay away from Roman.
She’d made a highly convincing list in her head the last few days: she had an important article to write, she had to research other jobs just in case Rex hated what she wrote, she had to start house-hunting on the Net, she had to protect herself from falling any deeper.
That last excuse had been the clincher and she’d buried herself in work, deciphering and collating the answers Roman had given her, merging them with the information she’d gleaned through research and presenting it in an interesting, informative article she hoped readers of Globetrotter would devour.
The good news, she’d finished the first draft.
The bad news, the moment she’d seen Roman again all her previous excuses had instantly wiped clean.
He’d opened up to her, really opened up, and that had meant more to her than all the toe-curling kisses and intimate caresses over the last week.
She understood him now: what drove him to seek out publicity. He craved attention he’d never got as a kid. As for valuing his reputation and wanting to protect it at all costs, she empathised one hundred per cent.
She’d worked a lifetime at cultivating an image her dad could be proud of, and later Leon. But her version of polite elegance she’d presented to the world had been misinterpreted and twisted to sell newspapers. What would the press that adored Roman do if they were fed sordid, elaborate tales by his mother?
Tonight, she didn’t want to think about her past or his future. She had to make the most of their limited time left and with a determined step she pushed open the glass door to the Salus Per Aquum.
Once again the striking ambiance of the dark indigo and emerald pool made her blink, the darkness broken by a few muted down-lights. She’d never seen anything like this, the atmosphere a potent mix of decadent relaxation and exotic mystery.
Stepping onto the tiles, she glanced around for any sign of Roman when she heard the door lock click.
‘Glad you could make it.’
She turned, her heart thudding painfully at the sight of him in the hotel’s signature ebony plush bathrobe. He wore a wicked grin along with the robe and it catapulted her straight back to their first meeting.
Had it only been a few days ago? Could her life have changed so radically in that time frame? Logically, it didn’t make sense. Then again, she’d spent her life being logical and methodical and look where that had got her.
Willing her pulse to subside, she waited as he stalked towards her, sinful and scintillating and sexy as hell in that robe.
‘You work too hard.’
‘If it means I get to unwind here, maybe it’s worth it.’
‘I’ll make it worth your while, trust me.’
Her breath hitched a little as he took her hand and led her to the pool’s edge, sliding his hands around her waist from behind and untying her sash.
Sensation rippled through her body as he slid the robe off her shoulders, revealing a simple black one-piece, the cross back being the only variation on the swimsuit she’d been wearing when they met.
Not remotely sexy but when his hand splayed against her belly and pulled her back against the evidence of how much he wanted her, she felt like the most beautiful woman in the world.
‘You’ve got a thing for pools, don’t you?’
‘I’ve got a thing for you,’ he whispered in her ear, shrugging off his robe before taking her hand and leading her into the water.
I’ve got a thing for you.
Each word shot like an arrow and lodged in the last place she needed: her heart.
He meant nothing by it. But hot on the heels of his opening up to her this afternoon it merely served to reinforce her treacherous position.
Given half a chance and a little longer she could easily fall in love with this guy.
Bad move. Seriously bad move.
He chose that moment to tilt her chin up and look into her eyes and in the few seconds it took for her to slide a familiar mask in place the depth of her feeling was clearly visible.
It registered. For his eyes widened and his lips compressed and the slightest dent grooved his brows.
‘Last one in’s a rotten egg.’
Releasing his hand, she dived into the cool water, staying submerged for as long as she could hold her breath, buying precious time to ensure she didn’t make the same mistake again.
When she finally broke the surface he was right there, his hands spanning her waist as he lifted her up so she had no option but to wrap her legs around him.
‘We’re in a public place.’
‘I booked out the Salus.’
‘People do that?’
‘I did it. For you,’ he said, adding to her confusion.
By his reaction to her emotionally revealing slip-up, she would’ve thought he’d stick to slick lines and funny quips.
This intensity? Unexpected.
‘Why?’
Capturing her face in his hands, he stared at her so seriously her lungs seized.
‘The last few days have been great, Ava. Really great. And I hope you know how memorable this time together has been.’
Now she knew where this was going.
Searching his dark eyes, as fathomless as the water lapping them, she came out with it.
‘This is a goodbye speech, right?’
Regret clouded his face. ‘I leave in the morning.’
‘A day early.’
It was a statement, not a question and while she’d known this moment was inevitable it didn’t make it any less painful.
‘Some work in the Whitsundays has come my way.’
‘Sure, I understand completely.’
Then she did what she’d always done when faced with unpleasantness: fixed a great big smile on her face and pretended it didn’t mean a damn.
‘I’ve had a great time too. Thanks for everything.’
She untangled her legs and pushed away from him, and he let her go.
She had no idea how he’d planned this evening to go but she had two choices: make an excuse and run or make the most of their last night together.
Jogging lightly up the steps, she grabbed her robe and slipped into it, tying the sash as she glanced over her shoulder.
She’d never forget this moment, with the man she had feelings for standing waist deep in shimmering midnight-blue water, looking like Neptune rising from the deep.
She couldn’t read his expression in the dimness, but she bet it read relief she’d accepted his departure stoically.
He’d wait for her to make a move.
‘
If we only have tonight left, I’d rather spend it in your suite, so what are you waiting for?’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ROMAN had taken the only way out.
Could also be construed as the coward’s way out but he preferred to think of it as being smart. The instant he’d seen that look in Ava’s eyes at the pool last night, he knew he had to get out. Fast.
For all her vows of independence and living in the moment and having a fling, he knew that look: the look of emotional involvement. The look of a woman who’d moved past their easy-going fling and into a no-go zone.
He never would’ve picked it, especially considering her history. Recently divorced women weren’t usually in the market for a relationship. But Ava had certainly had that look in her eye last night and he’d done what he’d done his whole life: run.
She’d bought his business excuse but he’d seen the momentary hurt, quickly masked by her customary bravado. And rather than give him some flimsy excuse to avoid him for the rest of the night, she’d blown his mind with her pluck, issuing that challenge to make the most of their remaining time together.
They’d done that and how, but that was where he’d taken the coward’s way out and done a runner. Him, who’d never shirked a bridge or cliff or building in his life? Who’d held the record for the highest altitude free-fall jump? Who’d challenge any fellow adventure-sport fanatic to climb higher or fall longer or ski faster?
He didn’t avoid challenges, he faced them head-on, grabbing them with both hands and giving them a good shake along the way.
So what the hell had happened with Ava?
He could blame it on her getting too close. He could blame it on avoiding the dreaded goodbye. But deep down, he knew who to blame and he was looking at that guy in the jet’s restroom mirror.
The truth was he’d felt something for Ava, had felt something for a woman for the first time in his life and he couldn’t deal with it.
Coming clean to her about his mum might have been cathartic but it had cemented what he already suspected: falling for Ava would be far scarier than any jump he’d ever faced.
