by Heidi Rice
‘Claudio and I met at a Christmas party I was catering for one of my celebrity clients. His family is a big deal in Italy. They own land in and around Sorrento. He was dabbling in Formula Two at the time and fancied himself a racing driver—which in his case basically entailed being a globetrotting playboy who drove fast cars. He was charming, debonair, and he knew his way round a clitoris. After three dates, I was smitten.’
She’d worked so diligently to drag herself out of the pit where Luke had left her, to make a success of the cake designing, to bring up her baby girl solo, to schmooze as many celebrity contacts as she could and earn a regular spot on Living’s morning show as their baking expert. Claudio had been her reward. A chance to finally enjoy at least some of the fruits of being an independent, semi-successful career woman, who hadn’t had anything resembling a sex life in close to six years. She’d still been so young, only twenty-five—unfortunately, she’d also still been stupidly optimistic and incredibly naive, despite the lessons Luke had taught her.
‘We’d only been dating a few months when I got pregnant. Which was the result of a drunken bonk in a nightclub toilet.’ She gave a pained laugh. ‘I seem to have a knack for hitting the jackpot during drunken bonks in and around music venues, don’t I?’
‘You’re not the only one,’ he replied wryly.
‘Anyway, I planned to have an abortion. It was a hard decision, but I didn’t feel I had much of a choice. I had Lizzie to think about. And my career and it had been a mistake.’
And after what had happened with Luke, she didn’t want to ever be in that situation again, but she couldn’t tell Luke that, it would be far too revealing.
‘But Claudio …’ She paused, the conflicting emotions always there when she thought about Aldo’s father. He had been a tosser, but he had at least done one thing right, even if it had been for all the wrong reasons. ‘Claudio argued me out of it. He was Catholic, he said, it was a sin and he would be a good father. I suspect now his desire to keep the baby had more to do with his ego than any religious convictions, because he quickly became less keen on the idea as the pregnancy progressed. Dating someone with swollen ankles and ballooning breasts who wanted to hibernate instead of hang on his arm at celebrity parties hadn’t been part of the plan, apparently.’
‘He didn’t like the ballooning breasts? You’re kidding,’ Luke interrupted. ‘I thought that was the best bit.’
She laughed, as she suspected he had intended. The sickening tension in her gut eased, until the ripple of memory brought with it an uncomfortable blast of heat. Luke had certainly never been turned off by her pregnant body the way Claudio had.
She chucked one of the chewed chicken bones at him, determined to stop the stupid warm spot sinking south. ‘Shut up, do you want to hear the rest of this or not?’
He caught the bone one-handed and smiled. ‘Absolutely.’
She settled back on the rock. ‘So, as the months wore on, we saw each other less and less. By the end of the pregnancy I wasn’t into sex, and without that there really wasn’t anything else to keep us together. But even so, I thought …’ She hesitated, suddenly feeling like a fraud.
Had she really hoped Aldo, once he arrived, would bring Claudio back to her? When she was fairly sure she hadn’t wanted Claudio in her life by then?
‘Anyway, Claudio finally showed up at the maternity hospital the day after I’d given birth. He held Aldo, for about ten seconds, then handed him back to me and explained, very politely, that he had made a terrible mistake. He said he really wasn’t ready to be a father. That he had found someone else more suited to his lifestyle, and that he would be happy to make a financial contribution to Aldo’s upkeep, whatever I thought was fair, but he didn’t feel there was any point in forming a relationship with the child.’ She sighed. ‘“The child”, that’s what he called my beautiful baby boy.’
‘I hope you took him to the cleaners.’
The bite of anger in Luke’s tone felt comforting.
‘Actually, no, I told him to shove his offer of financial support somewhere anatomically impossible.’ She released a shaky breath. ‘The last thing I wanted was his money.’
Because it would have given her a connection to Claudio she didn’t want.
Which begged the question why she had never told Luke the same thing? When she’d always refused to spend any of the money he’d sent without fail every month for Lizzie?
‘He doesn’t sound like a tosser. He sounds like a total arsehole,’ Luke said, rescuing her from stressing over that glaring inconsistency.
‘Yes, he was, but …’ She forced herself to breathe round the granite boulder now sitting on her chest. ‘I know the pregnancy wasn’t only my fault.’
Even if two accidental pregnancies in one lifetime makes me the poster girl for dumb blondes.
‘And it definitely wasn’t my fault Claudio turned out to be such an immature, selfish git.’ The pressure on her lungs became painful.
Bloody hell, why is it still so hard to admit, even now?
‘But I wish I could have given Aldo a better dad. Or any kind of dad really.’
It might also be nice to know how I’ve managed to plan my career so successfully but made such a monumental cock-up of my private life.
‘So that’s why you never told Aldo the guy’s name?’
She glanced over at Luke, a bit disorientated to realise he was still sitting there, listening patiently to her confession. Luke had never seemed all that priestly. But he’d always had that knack of letting her do all the talking. After their split, she’d come to the conclusion that was because he’d never actually been listening. All he’d really been doing was allowing her to fill the void, so he could avoid talking back. But now she wasn’t so sure. Could that interested crease on his forehead be so easily faked?
The warm spot grew.
She turned away. Enough already. Luke’s ability to be such a patient and attentive listener was simply because he was a good journalist.
‘Once Aldo started asking questions, it was easier to avoid giving him a straight answer than make the effort to contact Claudio again.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I didn’t want to see Aldo hurt.’
Or at least that’s what she’d always told herself.
‘Fair enough,’ Luke said evenly. ‘Why set him up to be smacked down?’
‘Except that …’ She appreciated Luke’s vote of confidence, more than he would ever realise. But now she wondered, had Claudio really been the only selfish one involved? ‘The truth is I didn’t want to contact Claudio.’ Yes, she’d been frightened of having her child rejected again, but had she ever really wanted Claudio to be a part of Aldo’s life?
‘I have no idea how Claudio feels about his son now. It’s been ten years. He might have had a change of heart. What if he wants a relationship with Aldo and I’m the one who’s stopping it from happening?’
She’d been wrong about Luke, about how deeply he cared for his daughter, because she’d stubbornly refused to talk to him. What if she’d made the same mistake with Claudio and denied Aldo a father just to protect herself?
‘If that were the case, what’s stopping the guy from contacting you? Or Aldo?’ Luke said, reasonably, neatly cutting the guilt down to size. ‘He won’t, though, because the guy’s definitely still an arsehole,’ he continued. ‘I interviewed Claudio Benedetti last year for a piece I was doing on the Delanyo Scandal and he came across as a selfish, self-aggrandising twat.’
Halle bolted upright at the offhand comment, her heart racing. ‘How do you know who he is? I never said his surname.’
What the hell had she done? Luke was a bloody journalist. What if he published the information? Then Aldo would know that …
‘Hal, chill the hell out,’ he said evenly. ‘How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not a celebrity hack, or that much of an arsehole, frankly.’
‘But how did you figure out Claudio’s identity?’
‘Not from your comment about him
knowing his way round a clitoris, if that helps,’ he countered, a slight edge to his voice. ‘I’m a journalist. You gave me enough clues to make an educated guess. I do this stuff for a living, remember. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to exploit a ten-year-old boy. I do have a few scruples, you know.’ He began packing up the debris from their picnic. ‘Although, just for the record, I’m not sure you do. What made you fall for that wanker? Are clit skills really that high on your list of attributes?’
Interesting, he certainly seems to have gotten fairly hung up on that nugget of information.
She choked out a laugh, determined not to remember Luke was the one who had introduced her to the gold standard of clit skills.
‘I didn’t fall for him. I wasn’t in love with him.’ Not the way I thought I was with you. ‘I was lonely, I suppose, and he filled a need. Not getting any for six years can make you overlook a heck of a lot of personality flaws.’
He paused while packing the last of their lunch debris into the backpack. ‘Hang on a minute. He was your first? After me?’
‘Not all of us bounced back as quickly as you did,’ she declared, annoyed by the echo of bitterness.
Amelie Brouchard doesn’t matter to you any more. She’s just a French tart who probably can’t even make a decent tarte Tatin.
‘And I didn’t have a lot of spare time,’ she added. ‘I had a child to look after.’
Unlike you and Amelie the tart.
‘Well, shit.’ He relaxed back on his heels. ‘I never figured the three years it took me to get back in the game was particularly quick. I stand corrected.’
‘Don’t bullshit me, Luke.’ Annoyance flared, stirring the residual hurt. ‘I happen to know you shacked up with your photographer on that assignment, Amelie Brouchard, the day after you walked out on me and Lizzie.’
How could saying the woman’s name out loud still bring with it the sting of remembered pain?
‘Who told you that?’ he asked.
‘Your helpful friend Ned.’
‘Ned told you Amelie and I were an item?’
‘Stop pretending you weren’t.’ Really? We’re going to play this game?
Maybe she had misjudged his reliability as a father, but she knew exactly how fickle he had been as a life partner. And she certainly wasn’t the gullible nitwit any more who believed everything he told her.
‘Amelie and I were never lovers. And Ned knows we weren’t,’ Luke said. ‘I always knew he had the hots for you. That son of a bitch.’ He sounded furious.
‘Bugger off, Luke. What were you doing living in her apartment for six months if you weren’t banging her? I happen to have first-hand knowledge of exactly how much sex you need.’
Because I’m fairly sure the fact I stopped supplying it whenever you wanted it was the real reason you left me.
The accusation echoed off the rocks and sharpened the pain in her chest.
Why was the pain still so raw? At the thought of all the times he’d come on to her and all the times she’d turned him down because she was exhausted after Lizzie’s birth?
And all the times she’d been forced to regret that after he’d left. God, it was lowering to realise she could still be angry at how much she’d berated herself for not being more accommodating, more considerate of his sexual needs … And how long it had taken her to finally realise Luke was the one who had been insensitive to her needs. Not the other way round.
‘If you must know,’ he said, ‘I was sleeping in Amelie’s spare room while she and her girlfriend went at it every night in the room next door. And while that was certainly an education in sexual frustration, because the walls in that apartment were paper-thin and the two of them were both screamers, I didn’t get any, either, for three years. And I never got any with Amelie.’
‘You’re kidding. Amelie was a lesbian?’ The outrage blossomed anew. Spurred on by indignation. Had she been angry at Amelie the French tart for sixteen years, for no good reason?
‘She wasn’t a lesbian, exactly,’ he clarified. ‘She had a girlfriend, but she was into guys, too. And they did offer to have a threesome a couple of times.’
That bitch. ‘How accommodating of her.’
He shrugged, and the tinge of colour hit his cheeks. ‘But I turned them down.’
‘How very noble of you,’ she said waspishly, not sure now whether she was more annoyed with Luke or Amelie. Or his shit-stirring friend Ned. ‘I never would have expected you of all people to be such a prude.’
Am I actually hoping he had a threesome with her now?
‘It wasn’t that.’ The pink tinge touched the top of his ears. ‘I mean, it wasn’t that I wouldn’t have been up for it, so to speak. It’s just I couldn’t do it.’
‘Why on earth not?’
‘I don’t know, I guess because it felt like cheating, on you.’
She sat perfectly still, listening to the quiet hum of a passing insect. With no clue what to say to that. Or how to deal with the squeezing pain in her ribs.
‘Luke, you left me,’ she said at last, settling on pointing out the glaringly obvious. ‘You didn’t even contact me for two weeks. And when you did, I got exactly six torturous words that explained exactly nothing. I had to find out from your wanky friend Ned where you were living over a month later. How on earth could you have felt like you were cheating on me? For three years? Can’t you see how ridiculous that is?’
And not all that believable.
But somehow she did believe him. Which made his confession only all the more ridiculous. But not as ridiculous as the feeling of something warm and fluid in her abdomen.
Apparently, I’m glad he didn’t have that threesome.
How could the fact he hadn’t left her for another woman be important now?
‘It’s not ridiculous at all.’ He stretched his neck, looking more uncomfortable by the second. ‘I didn’t walk out on you because of our sex life. I know it changed a lot after Lizzie, and it took me a while to adjust to that … but I’m not that much of a shallow jerk.’
‘Then why did you leave?’
‘I told you, it had nothing to do with you. It was me.’
Well, hooray, that tells me precisely sod all.
‘We should get going.’ He got up and marched over to the laurel bush to whip his dry boxers off the branch. ‘I’ve gotta figure out how to use the two-way and tell Bill where to pick us up.’ Then he strode into the undergrowth, obviously to put his boxers back on.
Subject comprehensively closed.
She lifted her own underwear off the bush, contemplating her next move as she put her bra on under her T-shirt and stuffed her knickers into the pocket of her shorts.
His explanation wasn’t just cheesy, it was half-arsed. And if he thought that was all he was going to say on the subject, he had another think coming.
But she needed to be careful and protect herself before she had that discussion.
As they trudged back along the trail towards their pick-up point, she comforted herself with how much better able she was to hear the truth now than she had been sixteen years ago.
She wasn’t that reckless girl any more, increasingly scared and anxious, beaten down by the responsibility of a child and terrified of losing the man she loved. Whatever Luke had to say on the subject, if she could shoehorn it out of him, she certainly wasn’t scared of hearing it any more. Her need to know now was mere curiosity.
Maybe it was time to get in his face, instead of staying out of his way. Why shouldn’t this communication thing, the communication thing he’d started by getting her here, work two ways?
Obviously, she’d be a fool not to acknowledge the sexual tension. But she could handle it. She was a mature woman who didn’t have sex for the sake of it any more. Especially not with men whom she already knew weren’t good for her.
Holding back a branch of laurel that hung across the path, Luke beckoned her to precede him. As she stepped close to him, she inhaled his scent. Lake water and laundry s
oap and fresh sweat, overlaid with the cinnamon smell of the gum he was chewing. The sinew in his forearm stretched, making the muscles in his shoulder bunch. She caught his gaze on her before it flicked away. The look in his eyes was both wary and intense.
Moisture collected as her naked and unprotected vulva rubbed against the rough linen seam of her hiking shorts.
Awareness snapped in the humid air between them, until his gaze connected with hers again. His jaw moved, working the gum.
‘Take out the gum.’
He looked puzzled, but he obeyed, licking his fingers to extract the wad. ‘Why?’
She placed her hands on either side of his face, letting the rough stubble abrade her palms.
His jaw tensed. ‘Hal, what are you doing?’
He sounded concerned. No wonder. With one arm occupied stopping the branch from whacking them both in the face and the other hand busy holding the gum, he was entirely at her mercy. She took a moment to appreciate the rush of power and to consider her purpose.
Because she had something vitally important to prove.
She might be a smidgeon sex-starved. And far too aware of those intoxicating pheromones that had always hovered around Luke in a cloud, prompting women to do stupid things. But she wasn’t afraid of the siren call of her own senses any more. She’d already come a cropper on those rocks once. She wasn’t about to go sailing that way again. She was in command of her libido now, and she was immune to Luke’s charms. Or immune enough. And here was her chance to prove it.
Then she stopped thinking and let instinct take over. Rising on tiptoes, her chest brushing his, she heard his sharp intake of breath before her lips settled over his.
His mouth pursed into a tight line as she pressed against it. So she licked along the seam of his lips. They opened at last on a tremulous sigh, which brought with it the taste of cinnamon and need. Their tongues tangled briefly. Tip to tip. Cautious, gentle, coaxing, at first. But then the need turned to exploration, and exploitation, their tongues duelling as he delved deeper. Demanded more.
