One Unforgettable Summer
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How good it had felt when he’d kissed her—kissed her at any opportunity when they could be by themselves. How his kisses, his caresses, had stirred her body, awakening yearnings she hadn’t known she was capable of.
Yearnings she’d never felt as strongly since. Not even for Jason.
Saying no to going all the way with Ben that summer was one of the real regrets of her life. Losing her virginity to him would have been an unforgettable experience. How could it not have been when their passion had been so strong?
She couldn’t help remembering their last kiss—with her father about to drag her into the car—fired by unfulfilled passion and made more poignant in retrospect because she’d had no idea that it would be her last kiss from Ben.
Did he remember it too?
She searched his face, but he seemed immersed in his own dark thoughts.
Wearily, she wiped her hand over her forehead as if she could conjure up answers. Why had those kisses been printed so indelibly on her memory? Unleashed passion? Hormones? Pheromones? Was it the magic of first love? Or was it a unique power that came only from Ben?
Ben who had grown into this intense, unreadable, tormented man whom she could not even pretend to know any more.
The rain continued to fall. It muffled the sound of the cars swishing by outside the bookshop, made it seem as if they were in their own world, cocooned by their memories from the reality of everyday life in Dolphin Bay. From all that had happened in the twelve years since they’d last met.
Ben cleared his throat, leaned a little closer to her over the barrier of the counter.
‘I’m glad you told me you never got my letters, that you tried to phone,’ he said, his voice gruff. ‘I never understood how you could just walk away from what we had.’
‘Me too. I never understood how you didn’t want to see me again, I mean.’
She thought of the tears she’d wept into her pillow all those years ago. How abandoned she’d felt. How achingly lonely. Even the agony of Jason’s betrayal hadn’t come near it.
Then she forced her thoughts to return to today. To Ben’s insistence that he didn’t want her hanging around Dolphin Bay, even to help his injured aunt at a time of real need for the old lady.
It was beyond hurtful.
Consciously, she straightened her shoulders. She forced a brave, unconcerned edge to her voice. ‘But now we know the wrong my father did maybe we can forget old hurts and...and feel some kind of closure.’
‘Closure?’ Ben stared at her. ‘What kind of psychobabble is that?’
Psychobabble? She felt rebuffed by his response. She’d actually thought ‘closure’ was a very well-chosen word. Under the circumstances.
‘What I mean is...maybe we can try to be friends? Forgive the past. Forget there was anything else between us?’
She was lying. Oh, how she was lying.
While her mind dictated emotion-free words like ‘closure’ and ‘friends’ her body was shouting out that she found him every bit as desirable as she had twelve years ago. More so.
Just months ago—when she’d still had a job—she’d worked on a campaign for a hot teen surf clothing label. Ben at nineteen would have been perfectly cast in the lead male role, surrounded by adoring bikini-clad girls.
Now, Ben at thirty-one could star as a hunky action man in any number of very grown-up commercials. His face was only improved by his cropped hair, the deep tan, the slight crinkles around his eyes and that intriguing scar on his mouth. His damp shirt moulded to a muscled chest and powerful shoulders and arms.
Now they were both adults. Experienced adults. She’d been the world’s most inexperienced eighteen-year-old. What would she feel if she kissed him now? A shudder ran deep inside her. There would be no stopping at kisses, that was for sure.
‘You may be able to forget we were more than friends but I can’t,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I still find you very attractive.’
So he felt it too.
Something so powerful that twelve years had done nothing to erode it.
Her heart did that flippy thing again, over and over, stealing her breath, her composure. Before she could stutter out something in response he continued.
‘That’s why I don’t want you in Dolphin Bay.’
She gasped at his bluntness.
‘I don’t mean to sound rude,’ he said. ‘I...I just can’t deal with having you around.’
What could she say in response? For all her skill as an award-winning copywriter, she couldn’t find the right words in the face of such raw anguish. All she could do was nod.
That vein throbbed at his temple. ‘I don’t want to be reminded of what it was like to...to have feelings for someone when I can’t...don’t want to ever feel like that again.’
The pain behind his confession made her catch her breath in another gasp. It overwhelmed the brief flash of pleasure she’d felt that he still found her attractive. And it hurt that he was so pointedly rejecting her.
‘Right,’ she said.
Such an inadequate word. Woefully inadequate.
‘Right,’ she repeated. She cleared her throat. Looked anywhere but at him. ‘I hear what you’re saying. Loud and clear.’
‘I’m sorry, I—’
She put up her hand in a halt sign. ‘Don’t be. I...I appreciate your honesty.’
Her heart went out to him. Not in pity but in empathy. She had known pain. Not the kind of agony he’d endured, but pain just the same. Her parents’ divorce. Jason’s callous dumping. Betrayal by the friends who’d chosen to be on Jason’s side in the break-up and had accepted invitations to today’s wedding of the year at St Mark’s, Darling Point, the Sydney church famed for society weddings.
But the philosophy she’d evolved in those years when she’d been fighting her father’s blockade on letting her lead a normal teenage life had been to refuse to let hurt and disappointment hold her back for long. She now firmly believed that good things were always around the corner. That light always followed darkness. But you had to take steps to invite that light into your life. As she had in planning to leave all the reminders of her life with Jason behind her.
Ben had suffered a tragedy she could not even begin to imagine. Would he ever be able to move out of the shadows?
‘Honesty is best all round,’ he said, the jagged edge to his voice giving a terrible sincerity to the cliché.
She gritted her teeth against the thought of all Ben had endured since they’d last met, the damage it had done to him. And yet...
From what she remembered of sweet-faced Jodi Hart, she couldn’t imagine she would want to see the husband she’d loved wrapping himself in a shroud of grief and self-blame, not allowing himself ever again to feel happiness or love.
But it was not for her to make that judgement. She, too, belonged to Ben’s yesterday, and that was where he seemed determined to keep her. He did not want to be part of her tomorrow in any way.
If only she could stop wondering if the magic would still be there for them...if they could both overcome past hurts enough to try.
She had to force herself not to sigh out loud. The attraction she felt for him was still there, would never go away. It was a longing so powerful it hurt.
‘Now I know where I stand,’ she said, summoning the strength to make her voice sound normal.
He was right. It was best to get it up-front. Ben was not for her. Not any more. The barriers he had up against her were so entrenched they were almost visible.
But in spite of it all she refused to regret her impulsive decision to return to Dolphin Bay. It was healing to meet up with Ben and discover that he hadn’t, after all, heartlessly ditched her all those years ago. Coming after the Jason fiasco, that revelation was a great boost to her self-esteem.
She forced a smile. ‘That’s sorted, then. Let’s get back on track. Tell me more about Bay Books. I’m going to be the best darn temporary manager you’ll ever see.’
‘So long as you know it’s just that. Temporary.’
She nodded. She could do this. After all, she loved reading and she loved books—e-books, audiobooks, but especially the real thing. Added to that, the experience of looking after the bookshop might help her snag the candle store franchise. Maybe her reckless promise to Ida might turn out to benefit herself as much as Ben’s great-aunt.
Yes, making that swift exit off the highway this morning had definitely been a good idea. But in five days she would get back into her green Beetle and put Dolphin Bay and Ben Morgan behind her again.
Five days of wanting Ben but knowing it could never be.
Five days to eradicate the yearning, once and for all.
But the cup-half-full part of her bobbed irrepressibly to the surface. There was one other way to look at it: five days to convince him they should be friends again. And after that who knew?
CHAPTER FIVE
BEN WATCHED THE emotions as they played across Sandy’s face. Finally her expression settled at something between optimistic and cheerful.
He might have been fooled if he hadn’t noticed the tight grip of her hands on the edge of the countertop. Even after all these years and a high-powered job in advertising she hadn’t learned to mask her feelings.
He had hurt her. Hurt her with his blunt statements. Hurt her with his rejection of her friendship, his harsh determination to protect himself from her and the feelings she evoked.
He hated to cause her pain. He would fight with his fists anyone who dared to injure her in any way. But he had to be up-front. She had to know the score. The fire had changed him, snatched his life from him, forged a different person from the one Sandy remembered. He had nothing left to give her.
Her eyes were guarded, the shadows beneath them more deeply etched. She tilted her head to one side. A wispy lock of rain-damp hair fell across her face. He had to force himself not to reach out and tenderly push it aside, as he would have done twelve years ago.
She took a deep breath and again he couldn’t help but appreciate the enticing swell of her breasts. She’d been sizzling at eighteen. As a woman of thirty she was sexual dynamite. Ignite it and he was done for.
Finally she spoke. ‘Okay, so maybe promising to help your aunt wasn’t such a great idea. But I crossed my heart. I’m here in Dolphin Bay. Whether you like it or not.’
Her lovely pink-stained mouth trembled and she bit down firmly on her lower lip. She blinked rapidly, as if fighting back tears, sending a wrenching shaft of pain straight to his heart.
She choked out her words. ‘Don’t be angry at me for insisting on staying. I couldn’t bear that.’
‘Like I’d do that, Sandy. Surely you know me better?’
She shook her head slowly from side to side. Her voice broke like static. ‘Ben, I don’t know you at all any more.’
A bruised silence fell between them. He was powerless to do anything to end it. Each breath felt like an effort.
Sandy’s shoulders were hunched somewhere around her ears. He watched her make an effort to pull them down.
‘If you don’t want to be friends, where does that put us?’
‘Seems to me we’re old friends who’ve moved on but who have been thrown together by circumstance. Can’t we leave it at that?’
Before she had a chance to mask it, disappointment clouded her eyes. She looked away. It was a long moment before she nodded and looked back up at him. Her voice was resolute, as if she were closing on a business deal, with only the slightest tremor to betray her. ‘You’re right. Of course you’re right. We’ll be grown-up about this. Passing polite for the next five days. Is that the deal?’
She offered him her hand to shake.
He looked at it for a long moment, at her narrow wrist and slender fingers. Touching Sandy wasn’t a good idea. Not after all these years. Not when he remembered too well how good she’d felt in his arms. How much he wanted her—had always wanted her.
He hesitated a moment too long and she dropped her hand back by her side.
He’d hurt her again. He gritted his teeth. What kind of a man was he that he couldn’t shake her hand?
‘That’s settled, then,’ she said, her voice brisk and businesslike, her eyes not meeting his. ‘By the way, I’ll need somewhere to sleep. Any suggestions?’
Wham! What kind of sucker punch was that? His reaction was instant—raw, physical hunger for her. Hunger so powerful it knocked him for six.
He knew what he ached to say. You can sleep in my bed. With me. Naked, with your legs twined around mine. On top of me. Beneath me. With your face flushed with desire and your heart racing with passion. Sleep with me so we can finish what we started so long ago.
Instead he clenched his fists by his sides, looked somewhere over her head so he wouldn’t have to see her face. He couldn’t let her guess the thoughts that were taking over his mind and body.
‘You’ll be my guest at the hotel. I’ll organise a room for you as soon as I get back.’
She put up her hand. ‘But that won’t be necessary. I—’
He cut short her protest. ‘No buts. You’re helping my family. You don’t pay for accommodation. You’ll go in a penthouse suite.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m happy to pay, but if you insist—’
‘I insist.’ He realised, with some relief, that the rain had stopped pelting on the roof. ‘The weather has let up. We’ll get you checked in now.’
The twist to her mouth conceded defeat, although he suspected the argument was far from over. Like Idy, she was fiercely independent. Back then she’d always insisted on paying her way on their dates. Even if she only matched him ice cream for ice cream or soft drink for soft drink.
‘Okay. Thanks. I’ll just grab my handbag and—’ She felt around on the counter, looked around her in panic. ‘My bag!’
‘It’s at Reception. Kate picked it up.’
Kate, her eyes wide with interest and speculation, had whispered to him as they were helping Ida into the ambulance. She said Sandy had been in such a hurry to follow him out of the restaurant and onto the sand she’d left her bag behind.
Kate obviously saw that as significant. He wondered how many people now knew his old girlfriend was back in town.
The phone calls would start soon. His mother first up. She’d liked Sandy. She’d never pried into his and his brother Jesse’s teenage love lives. But she’d be itching to know why Sandy was back in town.
And he’d wager that Sandy would have a stream of customers visiting Bay Books. Customers whose interest was anything but literary.
Sandy went to move from behind the counter.
‘Sandy, before you go, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.’
She frowned. ‘Yes?’
He’d been unforgivably ill-mannered not to shake her hand just to avoid physical contact. So what inexplicable force made him now lean towards her and lightly brush his thumb over her mouth where it was stained that impossibly bright pink? He could easily tell her what he had to without touching her.
His pulse accelerated a gear at the soft, yielding feel of her lips, the warm female scent of her. She quivered in awareness of his touch, then stood very still, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide.
He didn’t want her around. Didn’t want her warmth, her laughter, falling on his heart like drops of water on a spiky-leaved plant so parched it was in danger of dying. A plant that needed the sun, the life-giving rain, but felt safe and comfortable existing in the shadows, living a half-life that until now had seemed enough.
‘Sandy....’ There was so much more he wanted to say. But couldn’t.
She looked mutely back at him.
He drew a deep, ragged breath. Cleared his throat. Forced his voice into its usual tone, aware that it came out gruffer but unable to do anything about it.
‘I don’t know if this is the latest city girl look, but your mouth...it’s kinda pink in the middle. You might want to fix it.’
She froze, then her hand shot to her mouth. ‘What do you mean? I don’t use pink lipstick.’
Without saying a word he walked around to her side of the counter and pulled out a drawer. He handed her the mirror his aunt always kept there.
Sandy looked at her image. She stared. She shrieked. ‘That’s the ink from my niece Amy’s feather pen!’
It was difficult not to grin at her reaction.
Then she glared at him, her eyes sparking, though she looked about as ferocious as one of the stray puppies his mother fostered. ‘You! You let me go around all this time looking like this? Why didn’t you tell me?’
He shrugged, finding it hard not show his amusement at her outraged expression. ‘How was I to know it wasn’t some fashion thing? I’ve seen girls wearing black nail polish that looks like bruises.’
‘But this...’ She wiped her hand ineffectively across her mouth. ‘This! I look like a circus clown.’
He shrugged. ‘I think it’s kinda cute. In a...circusy kind of way.’
‘You!’ She scrutinised her image and scrubbed hard at her mouth.
Now her lips looked all pouty and swollen, like they’d used to after their marathon teen making out sessions. He had to look away. To force himself not to remember.
She glared again. ‘Don’t you ever, ever let me go out in public again looking weird, okay?’
‘I said cute, not weird. But okay.’ He couldn’t help his mouth from lifting into a grin.
Her eyes narrowed into accusing slits. ‘Are you laughing at me, Ben Morgan?’
‘Never,’ he said, totally negating his words by laughing.
She tried, but she couldn’t sustain the glare. Her mouth quirked into a grin that spilled into laughter chiming alongside his.
After all the angst of the morning it felt good to laugh. Again he felt something shifting and stirring deep inside the seized and rusted engine of his emotions. He didn’t want it to fire into life again. That way led to pain and anguish. But already Sandy’s laughter, her scent, her unexpected presence again in his life, was like the slow drip-drip-drip of some powerful repair oil.
‘C’mon,’ he said. ‘While the rain’s stopped let’s get you checked into the hotel. Then I have to get back to work.’
As he pulled the door of Bay Books closed behind him he found himself pursing his mouth to whistle. A few broken bars of sound escaped before he clamped down on them. He glanced to see if Sandy had noticed, but her eyes were focused on the street ahead.
He hadn’t whistled for years.
CHAPTER SIX
SANDY SAT IN her guest room at Hotel Hideous, planning a new list. She shivered and hugged her arms to herself. The room was air conditioned to the hilt. There was no stinting on luxury in the modern, tasteful furnishings. She loved the dolphin motif that was woven into the bedcover and decorative pillows, and repeated discreetly on the borders of the curtains. And the view across the old harbour and the bay was beyond magnificent.
But it wasn’t a patch on the charm of the old guesthouse. Who could have believed the lovely building would come to such a tragic end? She shuddered at the thought of what Ben had endured. Was she foolish to imagine that he could ever get over his terrible losses? Ever be able to let himself love again?
She forced herself to concentrate as she turned a new page of her fairy notebook. The pretty pink pen had been relegated to the depths of her handbag. She didn’t have the heart to throw Amy’s gift in the bin, even though she could never use it again.
She still burned at the thought of not just Ben but Kate, Ida and who-knew-who-else seeing her with the hot pink stain on her mouth. It was hardly the sophisticated image she’d thought she was putting across. Thankfully, several minutes of scrubbing with a toothbrush had eliminated the stain.
But maybe the ink stain had, in a roundabout way, served a purpose. Thoughtfully, she stroked her lip with her finger, where Ben’s thumb had been. After all, hadn’t the stain induced Ben to break out of his self-imposed cage and actually touch her?
She took a pen stamped with the Hotel Harbourside logo—which, of course, incorporated a dolphin—from the desk in front of her and started to write—this time in regulation blue ink.
1. Reschedule birthday celebrations.
No.
Postpone indefinitely.
Was turning thirty, with her life such a mess, actually cause for celebration anyway? Maybe it was best left unmarked. She could hope for better next year.
2. Congratulate self for not thinking once about The Wedding.
She scored through the T and the W to make them lower case. It was her friends who had dramatised the occasion with capital letters. Her so-called friends who’d gone over to the dark side and accepted their invitations.
She could thank Ben’s aunt Ida for pushing all thoughts of That-Jerk-Jason and his lucrative trip down the aisle out of her mind.
Or—and she must be honest—was it really Ida who’d distracted her?
She realised she was gnawing the top of the pen.
3. Quit chewing on pens for once and for all. Especially pens that belong to first love.
First love now determined not even to be friends.
Which brought her to the real issue.
4. Forget Ben Morgan.
She stabbed it into the paper.
Forget the shivery delight that had coursed through her when his finger had traced the outline of her mouth. Forget how he’d looked when he had laughed—laughed at her crazy pink ink stain—forget the light in his eyes, the warmth of his smile. Forget the stupid, illogical hope that sprang into her heart when they joked together like in old times.
She slammed the notebook shut, sending glitter shimmering over the desk. Opened it again. She underscored the last words.
Then got on to the next item.
5. Visit Ida and get info on running bookshop.
She had to open Bay Books tomorrow and she didn’t have a clue what she should be doing. This was scary stuff.
She leaned back in her chair to think about the questions she should ask the older lady when the buzzer to her room sounded.
‘Who is it?’ she called out, slamming her notebook shut again in a flurry of glitter.
‘Ben.’
In spite of her resolutions her heart leaped at the sound of his voice. ‘Just give me a second,’ she called.
Her hands flew to her face, then smoothed her still-damp-from-the-shower hair. She tightened the belt on the white towelling hotel bathrobe. She ran her tongue around suddenly dry lips before she fumbled with the latch and opened the door.
Ben filled the doorway with his broad shoulders and impressive height. Her heart tripped into double time at the sight of him. He had changed into jeans and a blue striped shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes. Could any man be more handsome?
She stuttered out a greeting, noticed he held a large brown paper grocery bag in one hand.
He thrust the bag at her. ‘For you. I’m not good at gift wrapping.’
She looked from the bag up to him. ‘Gift wrapping?’
‘I feel bad your birthday turned out like this.’
‘This is a birthday gift?’
He shrugged. ‘A token.’
She flushed, pleased beyond measure at his thoughtfulness. ‘I like surprises. Thank you.’
Not sure what to expect, she delved into the bag. It was jam-packed with Snickers bars. ‘Ohmigod!’ she exclaimed in delighted disbelief.
He shifted from foot to foot. ‘You used to like them.’
She smiled at him. ‘I still do. They’re my favourite.’
She didn’t have the heart to add that when she was eighteen she’d been able to devour the chocolate bars by the dozen without gaining weight, but that at thirty they were an occasional indulgence.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You couldn’t have given me anything I’d like more.’
She wasn’t lying.
Ben’s thoughtfully chosen gift in a brown paper bag was way more valuable than any of the impersonal ‘must-have’ trinkets Jason had used to choose and have gift wrapped by the shop. Her last present from him had been an accessory for her electronic tablet that he had used more than she ever had.