Play Our Song Again (Lynsey Stevens Romance Book 13)

by Lynsey Stevens

  All except Alex. She found it impossible to make a move, and Chris and Justin looked at her questioningly.

  ‘Shall we go, Miss Marshall?’ His hand went out to take her elbow and the pressure of those strong fingers willed her to start towards the door.

  ‘Glad to have met you, Justin,’ said Chris as he left them. ‘See you next week, Alex.’

  Of course it was impossible for them all, plus the equip­ment, to fit into the one elevator, so Alex found herself alone with Justin in the silent sterile confines of the purring lift. Paul’s narrow features, set in lines of per­plexity, stayed in her mind as the door slid closed.

  She was certain Justin would be able to hear the thump of her heartbeats as they rose deafeningly in her ears to thunder almost painfully. Tilting her head for­ward, she fixed her eyes on a spot on the carpet at her feet and her hair fell about her face successfully shielding her expression from his probing gaze. And his eyes were on her. She didn’t need to look at him to know that. She could feel their touch burn over her and she shivered slightly as the door glided open and she could stumble out of the confined space like a drowning man surging into an air lock.

  She should run, just break away, leave him standing there. But as the thought was relayed from her brain those long sensitive fingers took her arm again and turned her firmly towards the exit to the car park. They still hadn’t exchanged a word as he settled her into the passenger seat and closed the door with a subdued click that seemed to demand she remain where she was while he moved around to his side and slipped into the seat beside her.

  As he rested his arms lightly on the steering wheel, she sensed him turning and felt his eyes on her again. Like a moth drawn to a flame her eyes were compelled from her hands clutched together on her lap and she turned her head to meet the steadiness of his gaze.

  Through the haze of pain that engulfed her at the familiarity of that face, the straight nose, firm chin, square jaw, she heard him sigh.

  ‘Well, Alex, it’s been a long time.’

  Chapter 3

  Alex only trusted herself to nod her head. She must remain cool and calm, must not let him suspect that their years apart had made little or no change to the way she felt about him. His nearness still had the power to set her traitorous body pulsing for his touch. ‘What made you come back, Justin?’ she asked quietly.

  He smiled humourlessly. ‘I could say to see you,’ he replied, and she felt warm colour flood her cheeks in the glow of the interior light. He looked away and his hand flicked on the ignition. ‘It’s the first engagement I’ve had in Brisbane in recent years. I thought I’d look you up.’ His hands competently swung the car out of the narrow parking space, headed down two levels of the car park and turned left on to the city street, taking the freeway exit to Coronation Drive.

  ‘Things have changed around the city,’ he remarked, and Alex dragged her eyes from his hands moving expertly on the wheel and looked unseeingly out over the dimly lit river.

  ‘Yes. You must have a little trouble finding your way about with all the new one-way streets and freeways.’

  ‘Actually I haven’t had a lot of free time to get out and about. I rarely seem to these days. My engagements are usually fairly tight, so,’ he shrugged, ‘it’s a case of all work.’

  Silence fell between them, only broken by the low purr of the engine, and Justin turned the car away from the river and was soon moving slowly along Alex’s street.

  ‘You… You know where I live?’ she asked in surprise, realising she hadn’t mentioned her address.

  ‘From the phone book,’ he said levelly. ‘Which house?’

  ‘The white one on the left.’

  The car stopped smoothly and he switched off the ignition, moving out to open her door for her, taking her make-up case from her nerveless fingers.

  Surely he didn’t expect her to invite him inside? But he walked along the pathway beside her and waited quietly while she unlocked her door with a less than steady hand. Remaining on the top step, she reached inside and switched on the foyer light so that they were bathed in the glow through the open doorway. Facing him, she held out her hand for her case.

  ‘Thank you for driving me home,’ she said, hoping he would take the hint from her tone and leave but, of course, she should have known better.

  Ignoring her hand, Justin stepped past her into the flat. ‘It seemed a good opportunity to speak to you,’ he said in that same even tone, looking about at the simple but pleasant decor of the living room, then slowly setting her case on to the floor.

  ‘What did you want to talk to me about?’ She stood stiffly just inside the doorway, her mind moving in slow motion.

  ‘Nothing in particular.’ He gave a soft laugh and sank on to the lounge seat. His head was telling him he was making a monumental mistake, that he should leave before he got in any deeper. But he couldn’t seem to think past other so familiar sensations, like that same stirring of his senses at the low huskiness of her voice. ‘Old times. New times. What’s wrong with that? Surely we can be civilised?’ He could almost laugh at himself. His feelings at the moment were far from civilised, if she but knew.

  ‘Of course.’ She tried to match his ease. ‘It’s just that I’m a little tired. I’ve… I’ve had a long day and I still have some packing to do.’

  ‘Ah, yes. You’re going down to the Gold Coast. But you can spare me a few minutes?’ His smile only lifted the corners of his mouth momentarily. ‘After six years? Why don’t you sit down and relax?’

  Alex subsided into the farthest chair from his lounging figure, wishing this just a dream, a crazy nightmare, and that any moment she would awaken to find it was pure fantasy. What could he want anyway? she asked herself. They could have nothing to say to each other. Nothing. It had all been said six years ago.

  A thought crossed her mind with painful suddenness. Divorce! It had to be that. Justin had come to ask her for a divorce. Her face paled as she felt the knife edge of that word sear through her.

  ‘That’s better,’ he was saying as she sat down, his eyes moving around the room again so that he missed her fleetingly stricken look. ‘You have a nice place here. But then you always had a flair for decorating.’ He glanced back at her.

  Alex strove to pull herself together. ‘Thank you. I… It’s not a bad flat and very convenient,’ she said, feeling trite. ‘I took it on when Mum and Dad went to Canada a couple of years ago to help my brother and his wife with their new business over there.’

  Alex’s parents had not been in favour of her marriage to him. It was all too sudden. She barely knew him. She was too young to know her own mind. And Alex knew Justin had felt their animosity towards him.

  He nodded, watching her through half-closed eyes. She used to be quite a timid little thing, like a bird, and he would never have imagined she would be able to exist alone, stand so well on her own two feet. She appeared to be managing admirably and for some irrational reason this thought did not sit easily on him.

  ‘How about a cup of coffee?’ he asked, and watched irritatedly as she stood up and hurried into the kitchen, her expression one of thankfulness to be getting away from him.

  With lithe grace he stood up himself and went to follow her out of the room, then changed his mind, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and prowling about the living-room.

  Standing in front of the wall unit, he flipped through a small pile of CDs and then ran his eye over the books on the shelf above the stereo outfit. They were arranged neatly, apart from one, which had been shoved hori­zontally on top of the others. He lifted it down. Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnets from the Portuguese. One corner of his mouth lifted. She had always been a romantic, loved poetry. This was her style.

  He opened the book and the flourishing writing on the title page caught his eye. Darling Alex, the Happiest of Birthdays. You know how I love thee. Paul. He read th
ose words twice before snapping the book shut and throwing it on to the shelf. A cold white anger took hold of him, twisted deep within him, and his hands clenched futilely.

  So she had been finding some solace all these years. Somehow he really hadn’t thought she would have. God, he was naïve! Why shouldn’t she feel the need of a rela­tionship with a man? he sneered at himself. Why not, indeed? From the first their own relationship had been physically explosive and Alex had been as easily aroused as he was, had matched his rising passion with her own.

  He felt his muscles tense and swung irritably away from the sight of that leather-bound tome. The room was suddenly hot and he reached up to loosen his tie, unbutton the collar of his shirt, and then shrugged his arms out of his suit jacket, throwing it on to the lounge chair where he had been sitting. He flexed his shoulder muscles. That felt better.

  His eye was caught by the sight of another jacket draped over the arm of the third chair in the room and he lifted it, holding it up. It was obviously not feminine and his lips thinned as he looked about the room for any more signs of masculine occupation, wondering angrily why he hadn’t thought of it before now. She could be living with someone for all he knew. His anger glowed brighter and, not stopping to think, he crossed the lounge in long strides and swung open the bedroom door.

  The double bed covered by a colourful Indian weave spread seemed to mock him and he swallowed the bitter taste that rose in his mouth as his eyes flicked over the room. The dressing table was all feminine and a half full suitcase lay open on the bed. However, he could see nothing to indicate that a man shared the room.

  Alex returned to the living room carrying two mugs of coffee, and at the sight of Justin closing her bedroom door she paused on one foot, her face mirroring shocked surprise. Slowly, she set the mugs on the low coffee table before she turned back to him. And anger had replaced her surprise.

  ‘What do you think you were doing, Justin?’

  Unconcerned, he sat back down in the lounge chair and lifted one of the mugs of coffee. ‘Looking about,’ he replied, sipping the dark liquid, his face showing no sign of contrition.

  ‘With what in mind exactly? Scouting out the area?’ She stood stiffly looking down at him, her face flushed and her blue eyes angrily disdainful. ‘Well, think again, Justin! And on second thoughts, you may as well leave. It’s late and we have nothing to say to each other.’

  He sighed, seemingly unmoved by her outburst, making no move to do as she directed. ‘Sit down, Alex. I was simply ascertaining the fact that you were or were not living here alone. I thought a little detective work would be less painful than asking straight out.’

  Her colour deepened at the implication behind his words. ‘I’m living alone and I like living alone. So now that you’ve discovered what you came to find out per­haps you’ll be kind enough to leave me to continue living happily alone!’

  One corner of his mouth lifted almost bitterly. ‘Alone seems to be the operative word. Are you sure you’re not protesting too much, Alex?’ He raised his hand as she drew a sharp breath. ‘Calm down. What was I supposed to think? I saw that jacket on the chair and it crossed my mind that you might have been sharing the flat.’

  ‘With a man, of course,’ she stated sarcastically.

  He shrugged his broad shoulders and her eyes moved involuntarily to the ripple of muscles beneath the fine material of his shirt. ‘It was a man’s jacket.’

  ‘It belongs to a… a friend.’ She paused almost im­perceptibly before she used the word, angry with herself for offering any explanations.

  ‘The young lead guitar player I met tonight?’ It was more of a statement than a question.

  ‘The three of them are good friends,’ she said flatly.

  ‘What have you been doing these past years?’

  The abruptness of the change of subject had her blinking for a moment before she answered. ‘Working,’ she replied carefully. ‘I’ve been with the Everglades for four years, the last year at Christie’s.’

  There was a moment of silence and she watched him as his eyes appeared to be fixed on the coffee mug he had clasped in his long sensitive fingers.

  ‘What about yourself?’ she heard herself ask, as she sat down on the edge of the chair opposite him.

  He looked up then. ‘Working, too.’

  ‘You’ve obviously done well.’ Alex swallowed a lump that inexplicably threatened to rise in her throat. ‘I… I suppose your parents are very pleased.’

  A slight frown washed over his face. ‘Yes, I suppose they are,’ he replied in a tone as flat as her own.

  ‘Are they enjoying their retirement?’

  ‘I think so. Dad has the time now to spend in his garden.’ His frown deepened. ‘He hasn’t been very well these past months, has to take things a little easier.’

  Alex was genuinely perturbed. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. What’s the trouble?’

  ‘His heart. He had a mild attack just after Christmas, although he seems to be out of danger now. But you know how my mother fusses over him.’

  Yes, Alex could imagine. Justin’s mother was an ex­tremely forceful woman and although Alex knew she did care for her husband and sons Grace de Wilde always gave the impression that she ruled her family with an iron hand. When Justin had first taken her to meet his parents his mother had terrified her, giving her the distinct feeling that she was found wanting as an adequate wife for the elder de Wilde son.

  His father had been totally the opposite. He had taken Alex as a daughter, and the fact that he would have been upset when he learned that she and Justin had separated had caused Alex some uneasy feelings of guilt in the early days. And she felt a twinge of that same guilt now, wishing she could personally wish him an improvement in his health.

  ‘Ben’s up here in north Queensland filming something or other,’ Justin was saying.

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Alex smiled crookedly at his look of surprise at her words. ‘He called to see me a couple of months ago on his way up north. He’s doing a documentary on the Great Barrier Reef for the National Conservation people and then I think he said he was beginning on some kind of adventure-cum-thril­ler set on the Gold Coast.’

  Justin was watching her through half-closed lids, his jaw set tightly. ‘I didn’t realise you two kept in touch,’ he remarked a little sharply.

  It was Alex’s turn to shrug her shoulders. ‘He usually phones or calls in when he’s in Queensland,’ she said simply.

  ‘I see.’ His tone added volumes to those two words, and Alex’s hackles rose.

  ‘No, I don’t think you do see, Justin,’ she said quietly.

  His head rose and it crossed his mind that she was even more self-possessed then he had given her credit for earlier, and he had to admit that the knowledge threw him somewhat. She used to be so— What was the word? So bidd­able. Added to this revelation was the familiar stab of envy? Jealousy? Call it what you like, but it had always assailed him before when he witnessed the rapport Alex seemed to have with Ben. She had no trouble relaxing with his brother, laughing, and teasing him as much as he teased her. At times Justin had almost wanted to lash out at his brother, and if Ben had been here at this moment, he would have done just that.

  With dire difficulty he pulled his thoughts into order. ‘So? Just what is it that you don’t think I see?’ The low controlled quality of his voice had an ominousness that was not lost on Alex.

  ‘That Ben and I are friends.’

  ‘Friends. Oh, just friends,’ he repeated.

  ‘Yes, just good friends. Sometimes you’re lucky enough to meet people you click with,’ she tried to explain, ‘and you just feel a kind of bond with them. Even if you don’t see them for years when you do meet up with them again you simply pick up where you left off. There’s nothing male-female about it. You’re simply friends. That’s how it is with Ben and me.’

  H
is lip curled sardonically and Alex shook her head a little exasperatedly.

  ‘I can’t see any reason why our conflicts have to make any difference to my friendship with Ben. Why should it? For heaven’s sake, Justin, if he’d had to take sides he’d have backed you without hesitation. He all but worships you,’ she said shortly, her anger rising because she should feel she had to justify her actions.

  This new Alex was becoming more of a surprise to him, and rather than putting him off, he found it was only adding to the attraction she had for him. Justin put his empty coffee mug on the table and stood up moodily, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his slacks. ‘I never suggested that anyone should take sides,’ he said, his back to her.

  Alex found her eyes taking in the dark hair lying over his collar, the width of his shoulders, the narrow waist and tapered hips, and she knew a sharp pang of regret that she was not still able to run her hands over the firm smoothness of the body beneath. She had always had such pleasure simply touching him.

  When she made no comment he turned around, sur­veying her through brooding eyes. ‘There shouldn’t have been anything to take sides about.’ His voice had dropped lower, his words causing Alex’s heartbeats to accelerate wildly.

  Her breath came sharply through her cold lips and momentarily she wished what he said was true, that nothing had come between them, that she could feel the joy of going spontaneously into his arms. But too much had happened to drive a wedge that forced them apart until the gap had widened and finally severed the tie.

  A feeling of panic rose within her, panic that the con­versation was getting out of hand, would touch on a subject she had no desire to rake over tonight or any night, and her reply came out harshly in her distress, sounding biting to her ears. ‘Well, there was, and for­tunately it’s all water under the bridge now, so there’s simply no point in talking about it.’

  ‘What you mean is, sweep it under the rug and pre­tend it’s not there.’ His tone matched hers. ‘Just as we did from the moment we were married. Everything got swept under the rug until we had a pile so high we couldn’t see our way over it.’