by Amy Andrews
And was he ready for it?
‘Pete,’ Max warned as his friend headed for the deck.
But Pete did what he always did—exactly as he pleased—and he was standing in front of Ali in less than ten seconds.
‘Hello, Pete,’ Ali greeted, trying to keep it light but wishing the ground would swallow her. Wishing that the real world hadn’t intruded into her weekend fantasy world.
Max sighed as he pulled up behind his friend. ‘You remember Ali, Pete?’
‘But of course.’ Pete beamed. ‘Ali, Ali, Ali … how are you? I see you won the court case.’
Ali nodded. ‘With a little help from my … ‘
She glanced at Max. What was he exactly?
Her lawyer?
Standing beside her in his underwear?
Damn Pete for his intrusion, for forcing her to ask all those questions she was putting off for the weeks ahead. ‘Friends.’
Max could see Ali disappearing into the shell she’d been humping around when he first met her. ‘Was there something you wanted … mate?’
Pete grinned, looking from one to the other, unperturbed. ‘Ah, yep, but you’re obviously … otherwise engaged so it can wait.’
‘Excellent,’ Max said, clamping a hand on Pete’s shoulder.
‘No, no,’ Ali said, standing. ‘You guys hang out for a bit. I’ll make myself scarce.’
Max opened his mouth to protest but Ali was already picking up dishes off the table and heading into the kitchen. He turned to Pete with exasperation and noticed his friend checking out Ali’s very delectable sway.
He clenched his teeth. ‘Don’t even think about it.’
Pete was taken aback by the sinister tone in his friend’s voice. Max was using his court voice. And frankly it had always scared the be-jeebers out of him.
Ali must mean something.
Which was just as well given the news he had to impart.
‘So … you and Ali,’ Pete said as Ali stepped into the apartment and out of earshot.
‘What do you want?’ Max demanded.
‘Oh, come on, Maxy, throw me a bone. What’s she like?’
Max thought back to their sexual feast over the last couple of days with absolutely no intention of sharing any of it.
‘She’s hell on my training schedule,’ he dismissed with a cryptic smile. ‘Now … What. Do. You. Want?’
Pete hesitated. ‘I found something out this morning that I think you’re not going to like. So I wanted you to hear it from me. I think you may need to sit down.’
Ali hadn’t planned on eavesdropping. But the window near the sink faced the deck and it was already open, the men’s voices carrying easily on the light morning breeze as they sat at the table.
‘Okay. I’m sitting. Now what?’
Pete fished his mobile out of his pocket. ‘I was online this morning. Tori posted a status update.’
Max frowned. He didn’t care about social media. Or Tori. ‘I thought Tori unfriended you?’
Pete shook his head. ‘No. Just you.’
Max sighed. ‘What is it?’
Pete paused for a moment to decide if there was some way to soften the blow. He handed the phone over to Max, open on Tori’s social network page. ‘She’s pregnant.’
Max stared at the gadget in his hands, not quite comprehending for a moment even after he read the gushing update.
It’s official—I’m pregnant. It’s amazing how it all falls into place when you meet the right man. I haven’t been this happy in a very long time. I love you baby. Both of you.
‘You okay?’ Pete asked.
Max clenched his jaw. Tori was pregnant. Tori, who didn’t want babies, was pregnant.
And apparently ecstatic about it.
He remembered back to their one and only pregnancy scare. How angry she’d been, how indignant. How certain she’d been that she didn’t want the potential new life that might have been growing inside her.
Her threats to have an abortion.
His hand tightened on the phone as he glanced at Pete without saying a word.
Ali didn’t dare breathe as she stood at the sink. Max’s rigid profile sucked the marrow from her bones.
He was still in love with his wife.
It was as plain as the nose on her face.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. The truly horrible thing was she loved him. She’d actually fallen for him.
And … he was still in love with his wife.
Pete watched as his friend’s knuckles whitened around his expensive new phone and wondered for a moment if Max was going to shatter the screen.
‘She was a bitch, Max. She didn’t deserve you.’
‘She wasn’t, Pete,’ Max said, his voice controlled as he handed back the phone.
Max knew that he’d spent a good chunk of the last eighteen months hating Tori—for the affair, for leaving, for denying him a shot at being a father. But he also knew she’d essentially been a good person. He wouldn’t have fallen for her if she hadn’t been. The truth was, they hadn’t wanted the same things and he’d always known it deep down inside.
‘She just … didn’t want my babies.’
Ali felt as if she’d taken a hammer blow to the middle of her chest at the lament in Max’s words. She’d expected anger. She remembered the pain of Tom’s betrayal—how deep it had cut—and Max had been betrayed doubly.
Instead she detected regret and loneliness and resignation.
And her heart broke. For him. And for her. She’d already loved one man who had ditched her for another; she wasn’t stupid enough to make that mistake again.
She had to get out of here!
Pete was heading back out of the door when he ran into a fully dressed Ali searching the lounge room for her handbag she vaguely remembered discarding somewhere between the door and the bedroom.
‘You’re leaving?’ he said, taking in her change of clothes.
Ali looked down at the outfit she’d worn into court on Friday morning and tried not to look guilty. ‘Yes.’
‘You heard?’
Ali nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Please don’t. He’s going to need you today. Can you be here for him?’
Ali shut her eyes to block out the painful truth. Even Pete thought he was still in love with Tori. Pete, his best friend, the man who knew Max probably better than anyone else.
She nodded. ‘Sure.’
‘Promise?’
Ali nodded.
Even though she knew it was a promise she had no intention of keeping. There was absolutely no way she could stay a second longer than was necessary. Her heart had had enough trampling this past year, she needed to guard it as best she could from any further damage. If she walked away now and never looked back maybe it was just possible.
A quick goodbye and she was out of here.
Max was still on the deck when Ali joined him a few minutes later. He was staring out over the river, a frown furrowing his forehead. He didn’t even seem to notice the tap of her heels against the wooden decking that echoed loudly into the tranquil morning air.
‘Max?’
Max dragged his gaze away from the river and his turbulent thoughts. Ali stood fully dressed before him in that skirt, her butterscotch curls brushing the see-through blouse, and a sudden fierce welling of desire crashed like a tsunami through his system.
It was totally unexpected in his current state of turmoil. And utterly welcome.
Twenty minutes ago he’d resented Pete for making him examine what the hell he and Ali were doing.
Now it was clear.
Ali was who he wanted. Ali was who mattered.
He stood abruptly, the scraping of his chair ringing across the river. He took three paces towards her and hauled her into his arms, swooping his head, crushing his mouth to hers.
Her instant response was gratifying and he groaned as he grabbed both her butt cheeks and jammed her up against his hard raging body. He pulled at her blouse, unzipped her ski
rt.
Ali held onto him for dear life as her head spun and her insides turned to liquid.
‘Max,’ she panted, pulling away, her eyes shutting as his mouth moved to devour her neck. She was pretty sure Pete hadn’t meant to be there for Max like this. ‘Do you want to talk about this?’
Max ran his tongue over her ear lobe. He didn’t want to talk. He just wanted to feel. To bury himself in her. Get lost in her essence. Just be with her. He wished he didn’t want it so much. But he did. ‘No.’
Ali gripped his biceps as his hot, desperate kisses eroded her determination to flee. She reached for a modicum of common sense in a rapidly diminishing world. ‘I know what it’s like, Max. To want a baby. To have that taken from you.’
‘No talking,’ he muttered against her neck as he yanked a bra cup aside and claimed her breast with his palm.
A surge of lust pounded through Ali’s veins as his thumb stroked her nipple and she cried out. It washed through her brain crippling everything but the imperative to kiss back.
Long, deep, wet and hard.
Open-mouthed.
As good as she was getting. Better.
Obliterating everything. Making her forget. About Tori and the baby. About her promise to Pete. About her deep-and-getting-deeper-every-second love for him.
About practically fornicating in full public view on his deck.
And then he was kissing her again and lifting her up and carrying her, not breaking their lip lock or his stride as he blindly navigated the inside of the apartment. Suddenly she was horizontal on his bed, sucking in much-needed air as she watched him strip off underwear that was barely concealing him.
She should stop him, have more pride. Was it even her he was making love to? But she wanted him too fiercely, was powerless to resist the thrum in her blood and the love in her heart.
Powerless to deny him this outlet.
And too selfish not to take whatever of himself was on offer.
Because after today, she’d only have the memories.
With no underwear and her skirt ruched up around her hips she was totally bare to his fiery gaze.
She spread her legs in silent invitation.
Max grabbed a condom from the very well used box and was sliding into her moist heat within seconds. He groaned into her neck and let the wild impulsive rhythm playing in his head take control.
Ali, her clothes still askew, slipped out of the bed half an hour later. Max had drifted to sleep almost immediately and she’d been content to cuddle up close and listen to his breath, mentally cataloguing every husky nuance.
But it was time to go. She’d given up being a victim in court on Friday and she wouldn’t leave herself open to it again.
She was a survivor. She could do it.
Her breath caught on a sob as a sudden rush of loss stabbed like a hot knife between her ribs.
Could she? Could she really?
How much loss could a human being take? How much more could she bear? Max. Nathaniel Cullen. Tom. Her baby.
The knife twisted viciously. God, she’d been so caught up in winning and being with Max she’d forgotten she’d promised herself she’d grieve her baby’s passing after the case.
Her tiny, defenceless baby. The small but potent life force that she’d known for only a few short weeks.
The pain and the anguish of that horrible day drove the knife a little deeper and Ali stifled a sob. She pressed her palm against her belly, where her baby had grown. It felt so empty and the ache inside that had been there for a year intensified.
She looked down at a sleeping Max and her vision blurred. He’d lost a baby too. It might not have been conceived yet but, if his devastated face earlier was any indication, he’d wanted a baby as badly as she had.
Her heart felt as if it were cracking wide open. How much loss could it stand? First her baby and now the man she’d foolishly fallen in love with.
The man she loved, loved another.
Ali felt herself crumpling from the inside. She had to get out of here. She whirled away, strode out of his door and didn’t look back.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A WEEK passed, two, since Max had woken to an empty bed and a note on his kitchen bench. Ali had thanked him for the weekend and then left him in no doubt that it was all it was ever going to be. They were both still too raw from their previous relationships to be anything more than transient distractions, she’d written. And she had a life to get back on track. She didn’t need any diversions while she was doing it.
Which was fine. Perfectly fine.
He just hadn’t expected to miss her this much.
In the middle of a court case he’d suddenly realise he was thinking about her instead of listening to the proceedings. Or at home each night he realised he was waiting for the phone to ring. Itching to pick it up himself, hear her voice as she rattled off her next hare-brained career scheme.
And then there was the bedroom. Vanilla permeated his sheets and haunted his macaroon dreams. His towels carried the scent, even his shower.
She was everywhere and he missed her.
It wasn’t the same as the way he’d missed Tori, either. In fact he’d been too angry to miss her and, if he was being honest, somewhere deep down there had been a small sense of relief.
But all there was now was a constant heavy feeling inside his chest.
He kept hoping an excuse would come up to ring her or see her. Anything …
And then in the third week his prayers were answered and he wished like hell he could take them back.
Notification of the lodgment of an appeal against the findings in the wrongful death suit against Brisbane Memorial Hospital and Dr Aleisha Gregory landed in his in-tray.
His heart sank as he read the documentation.
Anything but this.
It had always been a possibility, they’d known that, but he hadn’t thought the Cullens would go through with it.
He stared at the papers for hours wishing it weren’t his way back to Ali. But she had to be told.
And he didn’t want it to come from anyone else.
Max jogged along the darkened Southbank pathway later that night on his way to the River Breeze café. At almost ten on a Tuesday night the place was nearly deserted as restaurants and outdoor eateries wound up their trade.
He didn’t even know what he was doing here. He hadn’t planned on telling her tonight at all. But the longer he sat with the news alone in his apartment, the more it felt like a ticking bomb.
In the end, he couldn’t stand keeping it to himself any longer. He rang her home number and got no answer. He rang the River Breeze and got Kat who—thankfully—informed him that Ali was working until close. He’d left his apartment immediately, deciding an extra run would be good for his training schedule.
Thirty minutes later he was almost there and he slowed his pace as the lights of the River Breeze came into view. Unfortunately, despite grappling with the words all the way here, he wasn’t any closer to finding the right ones.
Some lawyer he was if he couldn’t even articulate a very simple concept without tying himself in a knot.
He paused outside, stretching out his legs on the bottom of four steps that led into the café, catching his breath, wanting to go in, desperate to see her and yet not under these circumstances.
Not wanting to be the portent of doom.
He almost changed his mind. Turned around and ran all the way back home. He could get Helen to ring her tomorrow during business hours, set up an appointment. But then the glass doors opened and he caught a glimpse of her and her butterscotch curls bouncing by and he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer.
Ali was wiping down a table when the hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she turned to identify the cause even though, deep inside somewhere, she already knew.
He stood before her in his jogging gear looking warm and male and vital and her gaze devoured him. He looked as he had that morning she’d persuaded him to u
se her for his morning workout and it had been two weeks since she’d kissed him and every cell in her body was screaming.
‘Max,’ she said, hating the breathiness of her voice.
‘Hi.’
It was another moment or two before Ali realised they were standing like statues staring at each other. His gaze felt like a white-hot laser as it grazed her breasts and her thighs and her belly and her body bloomed with heat.
Kat bustled by and Ali gained some cerebral function. ‘Would you like a table?’ she asked.
Max shook his head. She was all business in her tight black T-shirt, black trousers and long maroon apron emblazoned with a River Breeze logo. ‘I’d like to talk to you.’
Ali felt her silly heart leap in her chest before she ruthlessly crushed it. The man was still in love with his ex-wife—what else was there to talk about?
‘I’m busy,’ she said stiffly because she couldn’t bear to be this near to him and yet feel so far away.
Max looked around at the half-full café seemingly oblivious to their exchange. He shrugged. ‘I can wait.’
Ali felt suddenly churlish as he stood there calmly looking at her. She’d meant what she’d said in her note—why didn’t he just let her get on with it?
‘Suit yourself,’ she said and left him standing as she returned to the kitchen. To her job. Her very simple, non-stress, non-critical job.
Over the next half-hour Max sat and watched Ali as she flitted between tables. She laughed and joked, chatted, cleared away, took orders and generally seemed to fulfil the role of waitress very efficiently. But when he watched her examine a customer’s leg and then go away and come back with some kind of cream in a tube he couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
It was plain to all but her, apparently, that she had a true calling and being a waitress was never going to be a fulfilling career choice.
Finally, with all but two tables empty, she approached him with a couple of steaming coffee cups in hand. She plonked one in front of him and took the seat opposite. The aroma of Arabica beans enveloped him and Max watched as she stirred sugar into her coffee, waiting for her to say something.
