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‘I’m tougher than you think, Boss.’
Luke smiled. ‘You haven’t called me that in a long time. I think I like it.’
The wrestling stopped. The air in the taxi turned a little thick. Amy stopped moving and stilled her hand where it rested, on his thigh. High on his thigh. His hands stilled too.
‘You like it when I call you Boss?’ Amy’s eyes skirted to Luke’s lips. They were slightly parted. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to do bad, bad things to him.
‘I like you having your hand there.’ Luke’s voice was deep and he shifted his leg a little, underneath where her hand sat.
There was no mistaking what he wanted and how he felt. And it sent a thrilling ripple through her to think that she could finally have what she’d wanted all those years ago. Time alone with Luke. Luke wanting her. It was everything she’d wanted as an eighteen-year-old and she could finally take it—if she wanted.
JENNIFER RAE was raised on a farm in Australia by salt-of-the-earth farming parents. All she ever wanted to do was write, but she didn’t have the confidence to share her stories with the world until, working as a journalist, she interviewed a couple of romance-writers. Finally the characters who had been milling around Jennifer’s head since her long years on the farm made sense, and she realised romance was the genre for her and sat down to release her characters.
www.millsandboon.co.uk
This book is for the boys in my life.
For the boys who loved me when I wasn’t very lovable, the boys who cheered me up when I was feeling down, and the boys who took care of me when I needed it.
I’m grateful for you all.
But mostly this book is dedicated to the two boys who mean more to me than any other boy ever has or ever will.
To Archie and Max
The two boys I love the most.
Table of Contents
Cover
Excerpt
About the Author
Title Page
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
THREE MILLION DOLLARS. The sweet, stupid lunatics at Amy McCarthy’s work were seriously trusting her with three million dollars? No matter how many times it happened Amy was still amazed that she’d managed to convince people she knew what she was on about. Didn’t they know that she was a five-year-old dressed in a twenty-six-year-old’s clothing? If they had, perhaps they wouldn’t have opened that bottle of champagne tonight and toasted her success.
Perhaps they wouldn’t have told her how proud they were of her for landing the biggest account in the company’s history. Perhaps they would have done what they should have and handed the account to Maree, or Thomas, or another of one of the senior PR consultants. The grown-ups. The sensible, reliable, practical grown-ups who knew what the hell they were doing. Not her. Who considered it a win when she managed to find matching socks to wear to the gym.
The grin on Amy’s face was almost manic as she pushed open the heavy door to Saints, the hip bar and restaurant in Surry Hills where she was meeting the others. Seriously. She totally had no idea what she was supposed to do with these new clients. They were the biggest luxury hotel chain in the entire Asia Pacific region.
She knew nothing about hotels! She was all talk. She knew that. She’d been able to sweet-talk people into anything since she was little. She’d even considered using her sales ability as her talent when she’d entered the Miss Northern Suburbs competition in high school. But she’d gone with magic instead. Which was probably why she’d lost. Either that or the fact that she’d been the dumpiest, plumpest, most unfashionable girl in the competition.
Amy remembered the long flowing bohemian dress she’d chosen for the ‘formal wear’ part of the competition. She’d loved it. It had made her feel pretty and feminine and free. But the judges had called her a hippy, and apparently hippies didn’t win beauty contests. So she’d lost. But her mother had hugged her and told her she was cleverer than those silly judges and her father had insisted she was the most beautiful girl there.
Her parents were two more sweet, silly people in her life. Thinking she was so much brighter and cleverer and better than she actually was.
Perhaps that was why, Amy thought, she had a tendency to make bad decisions. Too many people telling her she could do anything. Maybe she needed to surround herself with some more realistic people. Grounded, sensible people, who didn’t hope for the impossible but had their feet firmly set on the ground.
People like Willa. Amy spotted her best friend as soon as she alighted from the small flight of stairs that led to the dark bar that had become her local in recent months. Willa’s bright smile caught on the light and Amy smiled. Funny, clever, crazy Willa.
Amy couldn’t wait to tell her friend about her latest mad scheme. Of course Amy would exaggerate and make it seem even more outrageous than it actually was. She knew that would make Willa laugh and she loved to make Willa laugh. Because that made Amy laugh and there was nothing Amy liked to do more than laugh. And go out. And work. And stay as busy as possible. Staying busy meant staying high. And staying high meant not thinking about things that made her sad.
A familiar fleeting pull swept through Amy’s stomach. It shot up her body like a firecracker, passed her brain and went straight for her eyes. Amy stilled. Gulped. Then shook her head. Shook the feeling away. Where had that come from? There was no time for sadness. No time for thinking about anything that made her unhappy. No time for thinking about all the people she’d hurt or those people who had hurt her. She wanted to have fun. She wanted to laugh. She needed to talk to Willa. Now.
With a somewhat forced skip in her step she headed for the banquette that held Willa and her boyfriend, Rob, as well as their other friends, Scott, Kate, Chantal, Brodie and Jess. Amy counted them all off in her head, knowing she was the last one to arrive. She was often the last one to arrive these days. Work was becoming more manic as she took on more clients but that was the way she liked it. Busy.
Amy stilled. She counted her friends’ heads again. There should be seven. But there were eight. Another head. An unfamiliar head. A male head with its back turned towards her. Amy wondered for a moment who the newcomer was. Their group was pretty tight. Newcomers weren’t usually a thing, and if anyone was to introduce anyone it was usually her.
Amy’s eyes skirted to Jess, who was looking at the newcomer with a strange, faraway look in her eye. Aha! That was it. Jess had invited a man. But that didn’t make any sense, because Amy had spoken to her this morning before dashing out through the door and Jess hadn’t said anything about a man.
Not that she had time to worry about Jess and her man or anything else. She’d won a massive contract. There were tales to tell and cocktails to be ordered.
Amy swung the Louis Vuitton bag she’d splurged on with her last bonus cheque onto the low seat the strange man happened to be sitting on and used her best PR voice.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, hold your applause, but I must inform you that you are about to share copious amounts of alcohol with Bird Marketing’s newest superstar.’
Everyone looked up and smiled at her encouragingly. Amy focussed on Willa, barely containing her need to say something outrageous and make her laugh. Willa had a strange smile on her face. A smile that wasn’t quite a smile. And her eyes kept looking downward, then scooting back up. What was she doing?
‘And, furthermore, I’ve managed to convince the idiots in charge that allowing me full control of their newest and most important client as well as their three million dollars was the best bloody idea they’ve ever had.’ Amy laughed.
Scott stood and gave her a hug. Jess squealed in delight and called out congrats, and Brodie said loudly that her bosses must be nut-jobs.
Strangely, though, Willa didn’t move. She smiled a tight smile. Frankly, Amy had expected more. A laugh, a joke, a call for drinks all round. But Willa sat still, that silly strange smile still planted on her face and her eyes now frantically moving up and down.
‘Amy…’ she started, finally getting up from her seat.
Her eyes were still scooting down and Amy finally realised where she was looking. At the stranger. Who Amy could now feel was looking at her. So Amy looked back. Then she looked at Willa. Who had stopped still. As had Amy. Her brain seized. Every cell in her body froze. No air was being released from her lungs and she was pretty sure her heart had actually stopped beating.
‘Ames…’
Willa again. Amy willed herself to breathe. She felt the warmth of her best friend’s hand on her arm and she was grateful for it. Because right at the moment she wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t faint. Her knees gave a little as her eyes met Willa’s, holding them steady.
A conversation went on between the two friends without one word being spoken. A telepathic conversation that they had a knack for.
Is it?
Calm down.
No. Tell me it can’t be.
Hold steady. It’ll be okay.
I’m not prepared. What did I say? Did I make a fool of myself?
Just look at him.
So Amy did. She looked down at him. But right at that moment he stood. All six feet of him. Tall. Solid. Strong and dark. Amy forced herself to swallow and made her eyes trail up his chest, past his broad shoulders and to his face. A face she thought she’d forgotten. A face she’d never forget. It was him. He was here. In the flesh.
Luke.
Amy tried to speak but nothing came out. She tried again. She knew what she wanted to say. She’d practised what she wanted to say. Ever since she’d got back in contact with her old friend Willa months ago she’d been going over and over what she might say should she meet Luke, Willa’s brother, her former boss and the man she’d had the fiercest crush of her life on. Who also happened to be one of only two people who knew her deepest, darkest secret. But all those words were gone. Somewhere. In the ether.
‘Hello, Amy. It’s been a long time.’
Yes, it has. Hello, Luke. Nice to see you. How are you? There were any number of things Amy could have said right at that moment. She dug her nails into Willa’s flesh and jerked her friend towards her.
‘I’m…gonna go get a drink.’ Then she turned and fled, pulling her poor friend with her.
‘Now, Amy, before you lose it…’
‘Before I lose it? Before I lose it? Willa—I’ve already lost it! Why didn’t you tell me Luke was coming? You should have warned me!’
‘He literally just landed today and texted me. I told him to come along but honestly I didn’t think he would.’
‘Oh, God, what did I say? I can’t even remember.’
As was the norm whenever Luke was around, Amy became a little ditzy. That logical, clever part of her brain evaporated when she saw him. Which was crazy. It had been—what? Seven years? No. Eight. Eight years since she’d seen him. Eight years since that night. The swooping roared through her stomach again.
Amy pulled her face into a smile.
‘Okay—that’s okay. It’s fine. I’m fine. I was just shocked, you know…? I want to see him. I’m happy to see him. Let’s get a drink—what are you drinking? Actually. drinks all round! We’re celebrating. remember?’
Willa’s eyes were soft, her expression so readable.
‘Don’t look at me like that, Willa. I’m fine.’ Amy said it firmly. With one of her signature smiles. Before turning to the bearded, tattooed bartender.
‘Dave, darling. You look hot tonight! Sweet haircut. Sharp.’ She smiled with all her teeth and winked. It was the smile she used when she wanted people to smile back.
She wanted everyone smiling tonight. She wanted everyone talking and happy. She needed her heartbeat to return to normal so she could turn around and face Luke. She wasn’t even sure what she was getting so wound up for. Luke was an old friend—that was all. Sure, she’d had some silly little crush on him once. But that had been years ago. She’d only been eighteen then. A teenager.
She was a woman now. With a lot more confidence and plenty more experience. She’d changed. She’d moved on. And she was sure he had too. He probably barely remembered her. Or what had happened. That feeling again. Swooping through her. Every time she thought that feeling had finally disappeared a night like this would come. A night when it would return and lurk and keep tapping at her like an insistent salesman at a door.
‘Go away!’ she whispered to herself.
‘Not exactly a warm welcome. I’ve only just got here.’
Amy felt him before she saw him. His warm, dark presence behind her. That slightly gruff and very deep voice in her ear. When she was eighteen it had made her melt and giggle. But today she wasn’t melting. She wasn’t giggling. She’d just landed a highly coveted three-million-dollar PR account, for God’s sake. She was strong and powerful and in control. Strong, powerful women didn’t melt.
But Amy grabbed the bar anyway—just in case.
‘I wasn’t talking to you.’ Her voice came out all breathy and high. Dammit. Amy schooled it into something deeper. Her best PR voice. ‘How have you been, Luke? It’s been for ever!’
‘Eight years.’
Luke didn’t move. Amy had used to love that about him. How he was so still and solid. Big. Brave. Everything she wasn’t.
At best she remembered herself as being flaky during the months she’d spent working at Weeping Reef as a receptionist for the tropical resort. At worst selfish, self-centred and a right little brat. No wonder Luke wasn’t smiling. She’d always been his little sister’s troublemaking friend. He’d never seen her as anything but that. And she’d always seen him as Willa’s annoyingly controlling big brother. Hot big brother. As in smoking hot.
And right now, up close, Amy realised that hadn’t changed. Actually, if anything, he was even hotter. He’d always been tall, but now he’d filled out more. His jaw was wider, his shoulders broader. His voice was even deeper. His hair was still thick and dark, but it was clipped a lot shorter than in the old days, when unruly curls had fallen carelessly over his forehead.
And gone were the board shorts and the resort polo shirts he’d used to wear. Luke stood tall in an expensive-looking suit. Complete with tie. Somehow, even though he looked a little restrained by all the neatness and correctness, it suited him. It definitely suited the grim look on his face.
Amy lifted her eyes to his. His eyes were still the same. Green. They were like those old mood rings they’d used to peddle in the gift shop. When he was happy they’d turn bright, like the Whitsunday ocean, and when he was angry or upset they’d come over a shade of stormy dark green. She remembered the stormy green. Luke had always seemed to be upset with her over one thing or another. But she’d only ever seen them violently green once. That one time…
Amy clung to her stomach, willing it not to swoop again. She didn’t want that unwelcome feeling to reach her eyes as it threatened to do each time. She wouldn’t cry. She’d never cry over that. Not again.
‘Eight years. Wow. And still looking over our shoulders, ruining all our fun.’ Amy smiled, hoping he’d take her words as she’d meant them—teasingly.
‘And by the looks of it you two haven’t changed much either. Still giggling over boys and drinking too many cocktails.’
Something resembling a smile lifted the corner of his mouth and he flicked his suit jacket back to push his hands into his pockets. He got it. He got her. He always did.
‘You just wish we were giggling over you.’ Amy smiled again. She couldn’t help it.
She’d always liked to tease Luke. She’d always pushed and pushed till the grim look on his face cracked into a smile. It was a game she’d enjoyed playing when she was eighteen and had had her whole life in front of her. Now, at twenty-six, she should be more cautious. She should have learned a few lessons. But it seemed with Luke she was still clueless. Because flirting with him felt good. Still.
‘I’m sure you are.’
He leaned in and Amy caught his scent. The same fresh, oceany goodness that she remembered. His lips brushed her cheek just lightly. As if he was afraid to go near her.
Amy was grateful. It was important to keep her distance. Especially with Luke. There was no doubt she’d been looking forward to seeing him again. She’d thought about it often since rekindling her friendship with Willa. She’d asked Willa about him a few times. Subtly. Without letting on to her friend how she felt.
Not that she was sure how she felt. Luke was someone from her past. Her very long ago past. And even then he hadn’t been anything to her…just a crush. And she hadn’t been anything to him. Just his sister’s silly little friend. An idiot who’d needed rescuing.
Amy clutched at her stomach and turned back to the bar, where Dave was now racking up the drinks. She smiled, she flirted, she paid all her attention to Dave. So much so that she could see him blushing underneath his beard. Her stomach settled. Her heart returned to normal. She wouldn’t think of that night. She wasn’t sure why she kept thinking of it—she’d learned to block it out years ago.
Maybe it was because Luke was here. And he smelled the same. She still remembered breathing him in as he carried her out to the Jeep and took her to the hospital. She remembered clinging to him shamelessly as he laid her in the back seat.
‘Don’t leave me.’
‘I’m not. I’m right here. But I have to drive.’
‘No!’ The tears from her eyes had met her still wet cheeks. ‘Please. Just hold me.’
She’d been irrational. She’d known that at the time. But she hadn’t been able to help it. For those three minutes the fact that his arms were around her had been the only thing stopping her from collapsing, and she’d been convinced she’d stop breathing if he let her go.
He’d reached for her hair, stroked it back off her forehead. Then with one finger he’d traced the cut in her lip. She hadn’t winced. His touch had soothed the pain. She’d clung to his hand.
‘No one is going to hurt you again, Amy. I promise you.’
‘But…’
‘Amy—look at me.’
That was when she’d seen his eyes so violently green.
‘I promise you.’
She’d believed him. She’d looked into his eyes and into his soul and seen her protector. She’d let him go then and sat silently until they’d reached the resort hospital.
CHAPTER TWO
‘I THINK YOU may have sufficiently embarrassed the barman, Lollipop.’
Amy’s face broke out into an uncontrollable grin and she turned back to where the voice behind her was coming from.
‘Don’t call me that.’
‘What’s wrong, Lollipop?’ He smiled. The slow, lazy smile that he specialised in. ‘Lost your sense of humour?’
‘No…’ Amy grinned. ‘But I have lost my tolerance for your teasing. And if you haven’t noticed…’ Amy put one hand on a hip and pushed it out ‘…I’m not as skinny as I used to be.’
Yeah, he’d noticed. Luke beat down the heat pumping through his veins. Amy wasn’t the skinny teenager of eight years ago. She’d changed. Filled out. His eyes slipped to her chest. Really filled out. And although he’d always considered her a pretty girl, she’d always been just that—a girl. But she wasn’t a girl any more. She was a woman. And, by the looks of the body she was showing off in a tight white skirt and tan silky blouse, she was all woman.
But she was still his little sister’s friend. Her silly, irresponsible friend. The girl who was too pretty for her own good. The girl who made an art form out of flirting. And that hadn’t changed. The barman was still flushing and throwing furtive glances Amy’s way.
‘Some things have changed, but not everything.’
He nodded towards the barman and Amy turned to see the direction of his gaze. The barman smiled shyly before fumbling with a glass and allowing it to drop with a loud smash to the ground.
He leaned in close to Amy’s ear so no one else could hear. ‘Still making men do stupid things.’
As soon as the words had left his mouth he regretted them. He watched her stiffen. He felt her shrink away from him and her cheeks burned an instant red. He hadn’t meant that. Not what she thought.
‘Amy, I…’
She smiled. Wide. Fake. ‘It’s okay.’ She gathered drinks. She hoisted her purse under her arm, flicked her hair and left. Making him feel like the most insensitive man in the country.
He knew what had happened all those years ago wasn’t her fault. She’d been a kid. Sure, she’d been silly, naïve—reckless, even. But who wasn’t at that age? She hadn’t deserve what had happened to her and he’d made sure that the loser who’d attacked her understood how wrong he’d been.
Luke watched her walk back to the table filled with people he hadn’t seen in years. People who had once been closer to him than his family. People who’d made him feel normal. People who’d made him feel as if he belonged somewhere for the first time in his life. For the only time in his life. He’d never felt like that since.
The memory of that summer on Weeping Reef had got him through some tough times in his life. Had it only been a few months they’d all lived together on the island? It had seemed like longer. It had seemed that summer had lasted for years. It was the place where he’d remembered being young. Having fun. Being himself. But that was over. His reality now was work and responsibility and money and more work.
And he liked his life. He didn’t want to go back. He’d grown up so much since then, learned so much. He was different now. Stronger.
But as he watched Amy walk away, clearly angry and upset, he didn’t feel strong. He felt twenty-four again. Inept. Out of his depth and totally unable to decide what to do next. At twenty-four he would have ignored it. Ignored her. Ignored the way she felt and the fact that he’d put his foot into it. He would have sat with the others and said nothing. Carried on as if nothing had happened.
But he wasn’t twenty-four any more. He was turning thirty-two in a month. And over the years he’d learned that the only way to solve a problem was to throw himself into it. Avoiding problems always made them bigger, more bad and harder to solve. Walking away was for sheep, and he wasn’t a sheep. Not any more.
His feet flew across the floor and he had his arm on hers before she even sat down. ‘Amy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it came out.’