About the Authors

MELANIE MILBURNE read her first Mills & Boon novel at the age of seventeen, in between studying for her final exams. After completing a master’s degree in education, she decided to write a novel, and thus her career as a romance author was born. Melanie is an ambassador for the Australian Childhood Foundation and a keen dog-lover and trainer. She enjoys long walks in the Tasmanian bush. In 2015 Melanie won the HOLT Medallion, a prestigious award honouring outstanding literary talent.

Growing up near the beach, ANNIE WEST spent lots of time observing tall, burnished lifeguards—early research! Now she spends her days fantasising about gorgeous men and their love-lives. Annie has been a reader all her life. She also loves travel, long walks, good company and great food. You can contact her at annie@annie-west.com or via PO Box 1041, Warners Bay, NSW 2282, Australia.

Also by Melanie Milburne

The Temporary Mrs Marchetti

Wedding Night with Her Enemy

A Ring for the Greek’s Baby

The Tycoon’s Marriage Deal

A Virgin for a Vow

Blackmailed into the Marriage Bed

Tycoon’s Forbidden Cinderella

Bound by a One-Night Vow

Penniless Virgin to Sicilian’s Bride

Cinderella’s Scandalous Secret

Billionaire’s Wife on Paper

The Scandal Before the Wedding miniseries

Claimed for the Billionaire’s Convenience

The Venetian One-Night Baby

Also by Annie West

Seducing His Enemy’s Daughter

A Vow to Secure His Legacy

The Flaw in Raffaele’s Revenge

The Desert King’s Secret Heir

The Desert King’s Captive Bride

Contracted for the Petrakis Heir

Inherited for the Royal Bed

Her Forgotten Lover’s Heir

The Greek’s Forbidden Innocent

Passion in Paradise collection

Wedding Night Reunion in Greece

Royal Brides for Desert Brothers miniseries

Sheikh’s Royal Baby Revelation

Demanding His Desert Queen

The Princess Seductions miniseries

His Majesty’s Temporary Bride

The Greek’s Forbidden Princess

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

The Return of Her Billionaire Husband

Melanie Milburne

Revelations of a Secret Princess

Annie West

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90014-4

THE RETURN OF HER BILLIONAIRE HUSBAND & REVELATIONS OF A SECRET PRINCESS

The Return of Her Billionaire Husband © 2020 Melanie Milburne Revelations of a Secret Princess © 2020 Annie West

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

The Return of Her Billionaire Husband

Back Cover Text

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

EPILOGUE

Revelations of a Secret Princess

Back Cover Text

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

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

The Return of Her Billionaire Husband

Melanie Milburne

Their marriage was lost…

But then he walked back into her life!

Juliette is determined to forget her short-lived marriage to Italian tycoon Joe Allegranza. It began with an intense passion she’d only ever dreamed of, and ended in heartbreak. Now it’s time to go their separate ways…or is it?

Because reunited at a lavish wedding, Juliette is unable to hide from their desire, or the realization of how little she knew her husband. Drawn together by their connection, she’s torn: rekindling their spark could spell disaster, or it could make them stronger than before…

To all the parents who have lost a baby at birth. Your journey through grief is unimaginably painful and long-lasting. My thoughts are with you. xx

CHAPTER ONE

THERE WAS A weird kind of irony in arriving as maid of honour for your best friend’s destination wedding with divorce papers in your hand luggage. But the one thing Juliette was determined not to do was spoil Lucy and Damon’s wedding day. Well, not just a wedding day but a wedding weekend. On Corfu.

And her estranged husband was the best man.

Juliette sucked in a prickly breath and tried not to think of the last time she’d stood at an altar next to Joe Allegranza. Tried not to think of the blink-and-you’d-miss-it ceremony in the English village church in front of a handful of witnesses with her pregnancy not quite hidden by her mother’s vintage wedding dress. The dress that scratched and itched the whole time she was wearing it. She tried not to think of the expression of disappointment on her parents’ faces that their only daughter was marrying a virtual stranger after she got pregnant on a one-night stand.

Tried not to think of her baby—the baby girl who didn’t even get to take a single breath…

Juliette stepped down out of the shuttle bus and walked into the foyer of the luxury private villa at Barbati Beach. The scarily efficient wedding planner, Celeste Petrakis, had organised for the wedding party to stay at the villa so the rehearsal and other activities planned would run as smoothly and seamlessly as possible. Juliette had thought about asking to stay at another hotel close by, as she didn’t fancy running into Joe more than was strictly necessary. Socialising politely with her soon-to-be ex-husband over breakfast, lunch and dinner wasn’t exactly in her skill set. But the thought of upsetting the drill sergeant wedding planner’s meticulous arrangements was as intimidating as a cadet saying they weren’t going to march in line on parade. Juliette had even at one point thought of declining the honour of being Lucy’s maid of honour, but that would have made everyone think she wasn’t over Joe.

She most definitely was over him—hence the divorce papers.

‘Welcome.’ The smartly dressed female attendant greeted her with a smile bright enough for an orthodontist’s website homepage. ‘May I have your name, please?’

‘Bancroft…erm… I mean Allegranza.’ Juliette wished now she had got around to officially changing back to her maiden name. Why hadn’t she? She still didn’t understand why she’d taken Joe’s name in the first place. Their marriage hadn’t come about the normal way. No dating, no courtship, no professions of love. No romantic proposal. Just one night of bed-wrecking sex and then goodbye and thanks for the memories. They hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers. By the time she’d worked up the courage to track Joe down and tell him she was pregnant, he had insisted—not proposed, insisted—on marrying her soon after. They’d only lived together as man and wife for a total of three months. Three months of marriage and then it was over—just like her pregnancy.

But once Joe signed the papers and the divorce was finalised she would be free of his name. Free to move on with her life, because being stuck in limbo sucked. How would she ever be able to get through the grieving process without drawing a thick black line through her time with Joe?

She. Had. To. Move. On.

The receptionist click-clacked on the computer keyboard. ‘Here it is. J Allegranza. And the J is for…?’

‘Juliette.’ She wondered if it would be pedantic to insist on being addressed by her maiden name while she was here but decided against saying anything. But why hadn’t Lucy told the wedding planner she and Joe were separated? Or were Lucy and Damon still hoping she and Joe would somehow miraculously get back together?

Not flipping likely. They shouldn’t have been together in the first place.

If her childhood sweetheart, Harvey, hadn’t taken it upon himself to dump her instead of proposing to her, like she’d been expecting, none of this would have happened. Rebound sex with a handsome stranger. Who would have thought she had it in her? She wasn’t the type of girl to talk to staggeringly gorgeous men in swanky London bars. She wasn’t a one-night stand girl. But that night she had turned into someone else. Joe’s touch had turned her into someone else.

Note to self. Do not think about Joe’s touch. Do. Not. Go. There.

There was not going to be a fairy tale ending to their short-lived relationship. How could there be when the only reason for their marriage was now gone?

Dead. Buried. Lying, sleeping for ever, in a tiny white coffin in a graveyard in England.

‘Your suite is ready for you now,’ the receptionist said. ‘Spiros will bring your luggage in from the shuttle.’

‘Thank you.’

The receptionist handed her a swipe key and directed her to the lifts across the hectare of marble floor. ‘Your suite is on the third floor. Celeste, the wedding planner, will meet with the bridal party for drinks on the terrace, to go through the rehearsal and wedding timetable, promptly at six this evening.’

‘Got it.’ Juliette gave a polite movement of her lips, which was about as close to a smile as she got to these days. She took the key, hitched her tote bag over her shoulder and made her way over to the lifts. The divorce papers were poking out of the top of her bag, a reminder of her two-birds-one-stone mission. In seven days, this chapter of her life would finally be over.

And she would never have to think about Joe Allegranza again.

There was only one thing Joe Allegranza hated more than weddings and that was funerals. Oh, and birthdays—his, in particular. But he could hardly turn down being his mate’s best man, even if it meant coming face to face with his estranged wife, Juliette.

His wife…

Hard to believe how those two words still had the power to gouge a hole in his chest—a raw gaping hole that nothing could fill. He couldn’t think of her without feeling he had failed in every way possible. How had he let his life spin out of control so badly? He, who had written the handbook on control.

Mostly, he could block her from his mind. Mostly. He binged on work like some people did on alcohol or food. He had built his global engineering career on his ability to fix structural failures. To forensically analyse broken bridges and buildings, and yet he was unable to do anything to repair his broken marriage. Fifteen months of separation and he hadn’t moved forward with his life. Couldn’t move on with his life. It was as if an invisible wall had sprung up in front of him, keeping him cordoned off, blocked, imprisoned.

He glanced at the wedding ring still on his finger. He could easily have taken it off and locked it in the safe, along with Juliette’s rings that she had left behind.

But he hadn’t.

He wasn’t entirely sure why. Divorce was something he rigorously avoided thinking about. Reconciliation was equally as daunting. He was stuck in no man’s land.

Joe walked into the reception area of the luxury villa where the wedding party were staying and was greeted by a smiling attendant. ‘Welcome. May I have your name, please?’

‘Joe Allegranza.’ He removed his sunglasses and slipped them into his breast pocket. ‘The wedding planner made the booking.’

The reception attendant peered a little closer at the screen, scrolling through the bookings with her computer mouse. ‘Ah, yes, I see it now. I missed it because I thought the booking was only for one person.’ She flashed him a smile so bright he wished he hadn’t taken his sunglasses off. ‘Your wife has already checked in. She arrived an hour ago.’

His wife. A weight pressed down on Joe’s chest and his next breath was razor-edged. His failure could just as easily be substituted for those words. Hadn’t the wedding planner got the memo about his and Juliette’s separation?

The thought slipped through a crack in his mind like a fissure in bedrock, threatening to destabilise his determination to keep his distance.

A weekend sharing a suite with his estranged wife.

For a second or two he considered pointing out the booking error but he let his mind wander first… He could see Juliette again. In private. In person. He would be able to talk to her face to face instead of having her refuse to answer his calls or delete or block his texts or emails. She hadn’t responded to a single missive. Not one. The last time he’d called her to tell her about the fundraising he’d organised for a stillbirth foundation on their behalf, the service provider informed him the number was no longer connected. Meaning Juliette was no longer connected to him.

His conscience woke up and prodded him with a jabbing finger.

What the hell are you thinking? Haven’t you done enough damage?

It was crazy enough coming here for the wedding, much less spend time with Juliette—especially alone. He had ruined her life, just like he had done to his mother. Was there a curse on him when it came to his relationships? A curse that had been placed on him the day he was born. The same day his mother had died. His birthday: his mother’s death day.

If that wasn’t a curse, then what the freaking hell was?

Joe cleared his throat. ‘There must be some mistake. My…er…wife and I are no longer together. We’re…separated.’ He hated saying the ugly word. Hated admitting his failure. Hated knowing it was largely his fault his wife had walked out on their marriage.

The receptionist’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. ‘Oh, no—I mean, that’s terrible about your separation. Also, about the booking, because we don’t have any other rooms and—’

‘It’s fine,’ Joe said, pulling out his phone. ‘I’ll book in somewhere else.’ He began to scroll through the options on his server. There had to be plenty of hotels available. He would sleep on a park bench or on the beach if he had to. No way was he sharing a room with his estranged wife. Too dangerous. Too tempting. Too everything.

‘I don’t think you’ll find too much available,’ the receptionist said. ‘There’s several weddings on this part of Corfu this weekend and, besides, Celeste really wanted everyone to stay close by to give the wedding a family feel. She’ll be gutted to find out she’s made a mistake with your booking. She’s worked so hard to make her cousin’s wedding truly special.’

Joe’s memory snagged on something Damon had told him about his young cousin, Celeste. How this wedding planning gig for her older cousin was her first foray into the workforce after a long battle with some type of blood cancer. Leukaemia? Non-Hodgkin’s? He couldn’t remember which, but he didn’t want to be the one to rain on Celeste’s first parade.

‘Okay, so don’t tell Celeste until I make sure I can’t find accommodation. I’ll do a ring around and see what I find.’

He fixed problems, right? That was his speciality—fixing things that no one else could fix.

And he would fix this or die trying.

Joe stepped back out into the sunshine and spent close to an hour getting more and more frustrated when there was no vacancy anywhere. Beads of sweat poured down the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades. He even for a moment considered making an offer to buy a property rather than face the alternative of sharing a room with his estranged wife. He certainly had enough money to buy whatever he wanted.

Except happiness.

Except peace of mind.

Except life for his baby girl…

His phone was almost out of charge when he finally conceded defeat. There was nothing available close by or within a reasonable radius. Fate or destiny or a seriously manipulative deity had decided Joe was sharing a room with Juliette.

But maybe it was time to do something about his marriage. Keeping his distance hadn’t solved anything. Maybe this was a chance to see if there was anything he could say or do to bring a resolution to their situation. Closure.

Joe walked back into Reception and the young receptionist gave him an I-told-you-so smile. ‘No luck?’ she said.

‘Nope.’ Luck and Joe were not close friends. Never had been. Enemies, more like.

‘Here’s your key.’ The receptionist handed it over the counter. ‘I hope you enjoy your stay.’

‘Thank you.’ Joe took the key and made his way to the lift. Enjoy his stay? Like that was going to happen. He’d been dreading seeing Juliette again, knowing he was largely responsible for her pain, her sorrow, her devastation. But at least this way, in the privacy of ‘their’ suite, he would be able to speak to her without an audience. He would say what needed to be said, work out the way forward—if there was a way forward—and then they could both move on with their lives.

CHAPTER TWO

JULIETTE HAD A refreshing shower and was dressed in a luxurious bathrobe with her hair in a towel turban. The bespoke bathrobe—apparently all the wedding party had them—had her initials embroidered over her right breast—JA. Which was a pity because the bathrobe was absolutely divine and she hated the thought of tossing it in a charity bin. But maybe, once she got home, she could unpick the embroidery and embroider JB instead.

The wedding planner had certainly pulled all the stops out. There were handmade chocolates with the bride and groom’s names on them by the bedside, plus spring water bottles labelled with a photo of the happy couple. It was hard to look at her friend’s blissfully happy smile in that photo and not feel insanely jealous.

Why couldn’t she have found a man to love her like Damon loved Lucy?

Juliette had thought her ex, Harvey, had loved her. How could she have been so blind for so long? Harvey had said the three little words so often and yet they had meant nothing.

She had meant nothing.

And Joe hadn’t loved her either, but at least he hadn’t lied to her about it. Their relationship hadn’t been a love match but a convenient solution to the problem of her accidental pregnancy. A duty marriage. A loveless arrangement to provide a secure home and future for their child. She had known it from the start and still married him because she couldn’t bear to face the disappointment on her parents’ faces. The disappointment she had seen throughout her life—every school report, every exam result, every time she failed to gain their approval. Every time she failed to live up to the standards set by her exceptionally talented, high achieving older brothers. And her parents, with their multiple university degrees. Even her very existence had been a mistake. She was a mid-life baby born to older parents who thought their childrearing days were over. And they were over, so they’d outsourced the rearing of Juliette to a variety of nannies.

Juliette placed her hand on the flat plane of her abdomen, her heart squeezing as she thought of the precious life she had nurtured there for seven months. Her baby might have been an accident but no way would she ever think of Emilia as a mistake. Oh, God, she shouldn’t say her name, even in her head. It brought her so much pain, so much anguish to think of Emilia’s tiny little crinkled face, her tiny wrinkled legs and arms. Little arms that would never reach up to her to hold…

Juliette turned to the task at hand, determined to keep control of her emotions. She was moving on, processing the grief the best way she could. Part of that process was getting through this weekend and handing over the divorce papers to Joe.

She was still deciding which dress to wear to the drinks and rehearsal and had her choices laid out on the bed. The very big bed with cloud-soft pillows and gazillion thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets. It was similar to the bed she and Joe had spent that one-night stand in, having off-the-Richter-scale sex.

A night she couldn’t erase from her brain or her body.

She swung away from the bed and snatched up her make-up bag from her open suitcase. She needed armour and not just the cosmetic sort. She needed anger armour. Anger was her friend now. Her constant companion. It simmered and smouldered deep in her chest like lava inside a grumbling volcano. Anger was her way of punching through the blanket of despair that had almost smothered her after losing the baby seven months into the pregnancy. A despair so deep and thick it had taken every particle of light out of her life. Happiness was something other people experienced. Not her. Not now. Not ever. A part of her was missing.

Broken. Shattered.

And all the King’s horses and all the King’s men were not going to be able to put her back together again.

Juliette was on her way to the bathroom off the bedroom to do her make-up when she heard a brisk knock on the door of the suite. Thinking it was a waiter bringing the pot of tea she had ordered a short time ago, she called out, ‘Come in. Just leave it on the table, thanks.’ And went into the bathroom and closed the door.

She heard the suite door open and the rattle of a tea cup and saucer as presumably the tea trolley was wheeled in. Then the door closed again with a firm click.

Should she have given the waiter a tip? Probably not while she was dressed in a bathrobe, even if it was the most deliciously soft fabric she had ever worn against her skin. Not that she had too much spare cash lying around for tips. She refused on principle to touch the obscenely excessive amount of money Joe put in her bank account every month. Guilt money? No. Those were relief funds. His relief. He hadn’t got there in time for the birth, but when he came in half an hour later she hadn’t seen a father grieving for his stillborn baby girl. She had seen relief washing over his features. She had seen a man who was relieved his sham of a marriage now had an excuse to end.

Their baby had died and so had any hope of them remaining together.

They were a mismatch from the start. Hadn’t she always known that on some level? He was suave and sophisticated and super intelligent. A self-made man who answered to no one but himself. His cool aloofness had drawn her like a moth to a dangerously hot flame.

And it had burned her in the end. Even after three months living together as man and wife, he had always kept an emotional distance, which had reinforced every fear she harboured about herself. It mirrored the emotional distance she’d experienced from her parents while she was growing up. The sense she wasn’t enough for them—not clever enough, not pretty enough. She always felt they were holding back, keeping her to one side, compartmentalising her.

Juliette picked up her foundation bottle, took off the lid and released a sigh. Joe had done the same. He had travelled abroad for most of the time they were married, leaving her stranded at his villa in Positano. As far as she could see, he hadn’t made any adjustments to his life by marrying her. He had expected her to do all the adjusting. She had moved countries, left friends and family behind and lived in a large villa with no one for company other than a rotating agency-recruited team of household staff. None of whom stayed long enough for her to learn their names, much less their language.

Juliette picked up her foundation brush and ran her fingers over the soft bristles. Of course, she was always there waiting for Joe when he returned, and she couldn’t fault their physical relationship. It was as exciting and pleasurable as ever but it niggled at her that he seemed to spend more time away than he did at home. What did that say about her? Hadn’t her parents done the same? So many trips abroad, lecture tours, sabbaticals, leaving her languishing and lonely in boarding school.

Juliette applied some foundation to cover the dark shadows that seemed to be permanently under her eyes. There was nothing she could do about the shadows in her eyes—they were also permanent. She put on some eye shadow and then a coat of mascara but she left the lip-gloss for after she had her cup of tea. She unwound the towel from around her head and shook her shoulder-length hair loose. Looking at herself in the mirror, there was no sign she had ever carried a baby to seven months’ gestation. Her weight was back to normal…well, the new normal, because her appetite was hardly what anyone could call enthusiastic these days. Her hair had grown and thickened up again after a lot of it falling out due to hormones and deep emotional stress.

She looked like the same person…but she was not.

Juliette came out of the bathroom and walked into the lounge area and immediately saw the tea trolley next to the table by the window. She heaved a sigh of relief. A proper pot of tea with a silver tea strainer. No musty little tea bags and lukewarm water for this wedding party guest.

Big tick for you, Celeste.

Juliette could smell the bergamot notes of the high-quality Earl Grey in the air…and something else. Something that struck a chord in her memory and made a faint prickling sensation tiptoe across her scalp.

She swung around from the tea tray to see her estranged husband, Joe Allegranza, seated on the sofa behind her. A gasp rose but died in her blocked throat, her hand coming up to her chest to hold her leaping heart in place.

‘What the hell are you doing in my room?’ Her voice was a fishwife screech, her pulse a thud-stop-thud-stop hammering in her temples.

Joe rose from the sofa, his expression as unreadable as one of her father’s astrophysicist research papers. ‘It’s apparently our room.’ His deep baritone with its rich Italian accent made something in her stomach swoop.

Juliette frowned so hard a year’s supply of Botox would have given up in defeat. Two years’ supply. ‘Our room? What do you mean “our” room?’

‘There’s been a mistake with the booking.’

She narrowed her eyes to hairpin slits. ‘A mistake?’ She knew all about mistakes. Wasn’t he her biggest one? She wrapped her arms around her middle, wishing she wasn’t naked under the bathrobe. Wishing she had more armour against the tall, unknowable man in front of her. She needed heels the size of stilts to get anywhere near his six-foot-four height. She needed her head read for even noticing how gorgeous he looked, dressed in dark denim and a sky-blue open-necked shirt that highlighted his olive complexion.

She drank in his features, hating herself for being so weak. The determined jaw, the slash of aristocratic cheekbones, the ink-black eyebrows over hooded eyes the colour of centuries-old coal. The sensual mouth that had wreaked such havoc on her senses from the first time he had smiled at her, let alone kissed her.

But she was not going to think about his kisses. No. No. No.

Nor his earth-shattering, planet-dislodging love-making. No. No. No.

What she had to concentrate on was her anger. Yes. Yes. Yes.

‘Juliette…’ His voice had a note of authority that made her spine stiffen. ‘The way I see it, we have two options here. We either go downstairs and make a fuss and thereby draw a lot of attention to ourselves, or we suck it up and leave things as they are.’

Juliette unwound her arms from around her middle and widened her eyes to the size of the saucer under her bone china teacup. ‘Are you out of your mind? Why can’t we go downstairs and tell Reception they’ve made a monumental error? But wait—isn’t this the wedding planner’s mistake? Celeste Petrakis was the one who organised the accommodation. She’s being paid a ridiculous amount of money to make sure everything runs smoothly. This—’ she pointed her finger between him and herself ‘—is not what I’d call running smoothly.’

A frown drew his eyebrows closer together and he looked down at one of his rolled-up sleeves and flicked off an imaginary piece of lint. The gold glint of his wedding ring on his finger stopped her heart for a moment. He was still wearing his wedding ring? Why? She had left hers at his villa in Positano, but hardly a day went past when her thumb didn’t go in search of them on her finger like a child’s tongue checking the vacant space left by a missing tooth.

His gaze came back to hers—dark, deep, mysterious. ‘Celeste is Damon’s cousin. This is her first job after being sick with blood cancer. It would upset God knows how many relatives of his if we make a big deal about this. Greeks are all about family. Besides, this is Lucy and Damon’s wedding and I don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to our situation.’

Juliette chewed at her lip, knowing there was a lot of truth in what he said. Wedding party guests were meant to be the supportive team, not the main event. And it made sense not to make a fuss, given Celeste’s health issues. She admired the girl for getting back out there, and with such focus and dedication. Juliette hadn’t been able to illustrate another children’s book since she’d lost the baby. Her publisher and editors, and Lucy who co-wrote the books with her, had been incredibly patient but how long would that continue?

‘But what if one of us stayed in another room? Another hotel? There are plenty of hotels further down the—’

‘No.’ There was an intractable tone in his voice. ‘I’ve already spent the best part of an hour trying to find somewhere and drawn a blank. Lucy and Damon wanted the wedding party staying in one place. And there are no other rooms vacant here. So we will have to share.’

Juliette swung away and began pacing the floor, her arms wrapping around her body again. ‘This is ridiculous. I can’t believe this is happening. A weekend of sharing a suite with you? It’s…it’s unthinkable.’

‘You’ve shared much more than a suite with me in the past. Our first night together was spent in a room very much like this one, was it not?’ His coolly delivered statement triggered a firestorm in her body, sending waves of heat coursing through her flesh.

She didn’t want to think about that night and how her body so wantonly, greedily responded to him. How her senses had reeled under the ministrations of his touch. How many women since their breakup had enjoyed the pressure of his mouth, the smooth, hard thrust of his body, the sensual glide of his hands? A hot spear of jealousy drove through her belly, sending pain so deep into her body she only just managed to suppress a gasp.

Juliette sent him a glare hot enough to blister the paint off the walls. ‘How many women have you shared a hotel room with since we separated?’

Something moved across his features like a zephyr across a deep dark body of water. ‘None. We are still technically married, cara.’ His voice had a low and husky quality, his eyes holding hers in a lock that felt faintly disturbing. Disturbing because she found it almost impossible to look away.

She frowned, opening and closing her mouth in an effort to find something to say. None? No lovers since her? What did that mean?

She swallowed and finally found her voice. ‘You’ve been celibate the whole time? For fifteen months?’

His crooked smile made something kick against her heart like a tiny invisible hoof. ‘You find that surprising?’

‘Well, yes, because you’re…’ Her words trailed off and her cheeks grew warm and she shifted her gaze.

‘I’m what?’

Juliette rolled her lips together and glanced at him again. ‘You’re very good at sex and I thought you’d miss it and want to find someone else, many someone elses, after we broke up.’

‘Have you found someone else?’ A line of tension ran from the hinge of his jaw to his mouth.

Juliette gave a choked-off laugh. Her, sleep with someone else? The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. Which was kind of weird, come to think of it. Why hadn’t it? She was supposed to be over him. Wouldn’t being over him mean she would be interested in replacing him? But somehow the thought of it sickened her. ‘No, of course not.’

Joe’s eyes were unwavering on hers. ‘But why not? You’re very good at sex too. Don’t you miss it?’ His deep and husky tone was like dark rich treacle poured over gravel.

It wasn’t just her cheeks that were hot—her whole body was on fire. Flickering flames of reawakened lust smouldering in each of her erogenous zones. Erogenous zones that reacted to his presence as if finely tuned to his body’s radar. Her body recognised him in a thousand and one ways. Even his voice had the power to melt her bones. Her flesh remembered his touch as if it were imprinted in every pore of her skin. Hunger for his touch was a background beat in her blood but every time his gaze met hers it sent her pulse rate soaring.

And she had a feeling he damn well knew it.

Juliette smoothed her suddenly damp palms down the front of her bathrobe, turning away so her back was to him. ‘This is exactly why I don’t want to share a room with you this weekend.’

‘Because you still want me.’ He didn’t say it as a question but as a statement written in stone.

Juliette turned and faced him, anger rising in her like a pressure cooker about to explode. Her body trembled, her blood threatening to burst out of her veins. Should she mention the divorce papers burning a hole in her tote bag? The thought crossed her mind but then she dismissed it. She planned to hand them to him once Lucy and Damon left on Sunday morning for their yachting honeymoon. It would spoil the happy couple’s celebrations if the hideous D word was mentioned.

But Joe had mentioned the other dangerous D word. Desire.

‘You think I can’t resist you?’ Her voice shook with the effort of containing her temper.

His eyes went to her mouth as if he were recalling how she had shamelessly, brazenly pleasured him in the past. His gaze came back to hers and something deep and low in her belly rolled over. ‘I don’t want to fight with you, cara.’

‘What do you want to do then?’ Juliette should never have asked such a loaded question, for she saw the answer in the dark gleam of his chocolate-brown eyes.

Joe closed the distance between them in a number of slowly measured strides but she didn’t move away. She couldn’t seem to get her legs to work, couldn’t get her willpower back on duty, couldn’t think of a single reason why she shouldn’t just stand there and enjoy the exquisite anticipation of him being close enough for her to touch.

He lifted his hand to her face and skated his index finger down the curve of her cheek from just below her ear to the bottom of her chin. It was the lightest touch, barely there, but every cell in her body jolted awake like a dead heart under defibrillator paddles. Every drop of blood in her veins put on their running shoes. Every atom of her willpower dissolved like an aspirin in water. She could smell the lime notes of his aftershave cologne. She could see the sexy shadow of his regrowth peppered along his chiselled jaw and she had to curl her hands into fists to stop from touching it. She could see the lines and contours of his sculptured mouth, could remember how it felt crushed to her own.

Oh, dear God, his mouth was her kryptonite.

‘Take a wild guess what I want to do.’ His voice was rough, his eyes hooded, the air suddenly charged with erotic possibilities.

Juliette could feel her body swaying towards him as if someone was gently but inexorably pushing her from behind. Her hands were no longer balled into fists by her sides but planted on the hard wall of his chest, her lower body pulsing with lust-heated blood.

His hands settled on her hips, the warmth of his broad fingers seeping into her flesh with the potency of a powerful drug. His black-as-night gaze went to her mouth and she couldn’t stop from moistening her lips with the darting tip of her tongue.

He drew in a sharp breath as if her action had triggered something in him, something feral, something primal. He brought her even closer, flush against his pelvis, and her traitorously needy body met the hard jut of his.

His mouth came down to within millimetres of hers, his eyes sexily hooded. ‘This was never the problem between us, was it, cara?’ His warm hint of mint breath caressed her lips and her willpower threw its hands up in defeat and walked off the job.

Juliette’s heart was beating so fast she thought she was having some sort of medical event. ‘Don’t do this, Joe…’ Her voice didn’t come out with anywhere near the stridency she’d intended.

He nudged her nose with his—a gentle bump of flesh meeting flesh that sent a wave of longing through her body. ‘What am I doing, hmm?’ His lips touched the side of her mouth, not a kiss but so close to it her lips tingled all over. He brushed her cheek with his mouth and the graze of his stubble made something hot and liquid spill deep and low in her core.

Juliette’s lips parted, her lashes lowered, her mouth moved closer to his but then a stop sign came up in her head. What was she doing? Practically begging him to kiss her as if she was some love-struck teenager experiencing her first crush? She drew in a sharp breath and stepped back, glaring at him.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Nothing like a bit of projection to take the focus off her own weakness.

His cool composure was an added insult to the tumultuous emotions coursing through her body. ‘I would only have kissed you if you’d wanted it. And you did, didn’t you, tesoro?’

Juliette wanted to slap his face. She wanted to claw her fingernails down his cheeks. She wanted to kick him in the shins until his bones shattered. But instead her eyes filled with stinging tears, her chest feeling as if it were being squeezed in a studded vice. ‘I h-hate you.’ Her voice cracked over a lump clogging her throat. ‘Do you have any idea how much?’

‘Maybe that’s a good thing.’ His expression went back to his signature masklike state. Unreadable. Unreachable. Invincible.

Why wasn’t she shrugging off his hold? Why wasn’t she putting distance between their bodies? Why was she feeling as if this was where she belonged—in the warm protective shelter of his arms? Juliette slowly eased back to look up at his face, her emotions so ambushed she couldn’t find her anger. Where was her anger? She needed her anger. She couldn’t survive without it pounding through her blood. She blinked back the tears, determined not to cry in front of him.

‘I don’t know how to handle this…situation…’ She swallowed and aimed her gaze at his shirt collar. ‘I don’t want to ruin Lucy and Damon’s wedding but sharing this suite with you is…’ She bit her lip, unable to put her fears into words. Unwilling to voice them out loud, even to herself.

Joe inched up her chin with his finger, meshing his gaze with hers. ‘What if I promise not to kiss you. That will reassure you, sì?’

No! I want you to kiss me.

Juliette was shocked at herself. Shocked and shamed by her unruly desires. She stepped out of his hold and wrapped her arms around her body before she was tempted to betray herself any further.

‘Okay. That’s sounds like a sensible plan. Let’s decide on some ground rules.’ She was proud of the evenness of her tone. Proud she had got her willpower back into line. ‘No kissing. No touching.’

Joe gave a slow nod. ‘I’m fine with that.’ He walked over to the sofa and sat down, hooking one ankle over his muscular thigh.

He was fine with that?

Everything that was female in Juliette was perversely offended by his easy acceptance of her rules. Surely he could have put up a little bit of resistance? But maybe he had someone else he wanted to kiss and touch and make love to now. Maybe he was tired of being celibate and was ready to move on with his life. It had been fifteen months after all. It was a long time for a man in his sexual prime to be without a lover. A tight pain gripped her in her chest and travelled down to tie tight knots in her stomach. Cruel twisting knots that made it hard for her to breathe. If she didn’t pull herself into line, her grey-blue eyes would turn green. She had no right to be jealous. She had left their marriage. She had divorce papers in her bag, for pity’s sake.

‘Good.’ Juliette’s tone was so clipped it could have snipped through tin. ‘But of course, that leaves the tricky problem of what to say to Lucy and Damon when they realise we’re sharing a suite.’ She walked over to the bar fridge and took out a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap and pouring it into a glass. She picked up the glass and turned to face him. ‘Any brilliant suggestions?’

Joe’s expression was still inscrutable but she could sense an inner guardedness. His posture was almost too casual, too relaxed, too calm and collected. ‘We could say we’re trying for a reconciliation.’

Juliette took a sip of water before she gave in to the temptation to throw it in his face. She put the glass down on the counter with a clunk. ‘A reconciliation? For a marriage that shouldn’t have come about in the first place?’

A knot of tension appeared beside his mouth, his eyes locked on hers in an unblinking hold. ‘I wasn’t the one who left our marriage.’

Juliette stalked over to the windows overlooking the white crescent of the sand and the turquoise water of the beach below. She took a shuddering breath. ‘No, because you weren’t fully in it in the first place.’

The silence was so long it was as if time had come to a standstill.

She heard the rustle of his clothes as he rose from the sofa. Counted his footsteps as he approached her but she didn’t turn around. He came to stand beside her, his gaze focused like hers on the beach below.

After a long moment, he turned his head to look at her, the line of his mouth bitter. ‘If you were to be truthful, Juliette, you weren’t fully in it either. You were still getting over your ex. That’s why we hooked up in the first place, because you couldn’t bear to spend the night he got married to one of your so-called friends, on your own.’

Juliette wished she could deny it but every word he said was true. She had been shattered by Harvey’s betrayal. They had been dating since their teens. His affair with Clara had been going on for months and Juliette hadn’t had a clue. The night she’d thought Harvey was going to propose to her, he’d told her he was leaving her. Harvey Atkinson-Lloyd, her parents’ choice of the perfect son-in-law for their only daughter. The daughter who, unlike their high-achieving sons Mark and Jonathon, had failed to do anything much else to win their approval.

Juliette ground down on her molars, torn between anger at Joe for pointing out her stupidity and anger at herself for making a bad situation worse by falling into bed with him that night.

She turned to face him, chin high, eyes blazing. ‘So, what’s your excuse for hooking up with me that night? Or do you regularly sleep with perfect strangers when you’re working in London?’

An emotion flickered across his face like an interruption in a transmission. A pause. A regroup. A reset. ‘It was the anniversary of my mother’s death.’ His tone was flat, almost toneless, but there was a stray note of sadness under the surface.

Juliette looked at him blankly. ‘But I don’t understand… I thought you told me your mother had emigrated to Australia. Wasn’t that the reason she wasn’t able to come to our wedding?’

‘She’s my stepmother. Both of my parents are dead.’

Had she misheard him back when they were together? She tried to think back to the conversation but couldn’t recall it in any detail. She knew his father had died a few years back but he had barely mentioned his mother. She’d got the sense it was a no-go area for him, so she hadn’t delved any further.

They hadn’t done much talking about each other’s family backgrounds, mostly because he was away such a lot. Their brief passionate reunions when he came home between trips were physical catch-ups, not emotional ones. She had wanted more than physical intimacy but hadn’t known how to reach him. Every attempt to get closer to him had failed, with him leaving for yet another work commitment. It was as if he sensed her need for emotional connection and found it deeply threatening. But, to be fair, she too had been pretty sketchy with her own issues to do with her background, not wanting him to know how out of place she felt in her academically brilliant family.

‘I’m sorry…’ she said, frowning. ‘I mustn’t have heard you correctly when you told me that when we were living together.’

His lips moved in a grimace-like smile that didn’t involve his eyes. ‘My father remarried when I was a child. But when he died ten years ago, my stepmother and two half-siblings emigrated to Melbourne, where she has relatives.’

‘Do you have much contact with them? Phone? Email? Birthdays—that sort of thing?’

‘I do what is required.’

Juliette was starting to realise she didn’t know very much about the man she had married in such haste. Why hadn’t she tried a little harder to get him to open up? Her shock pregnancy had thrown her into a tailspin. And when she’d finally worked up the courage to call him and tell him, he had flown straight to her flat in London with a wedding proposal. A proposal she had felt compelled to accept in order to mitigate some of the shame she had caused her parents in getting herself ‘knocked up’ after a one-night stand.

She looked at him again, wondering how she could have been so physically close to someone without knowing anything about him. ‘How old were you when your mother died?’

Joe glanced at his watch and muttered a soft curse. ‘Isn’t there a drinks thing soon?’

‘Shoot.’ Juliette gave a much milder version of his curse. ‘I’m not dressed and I haven’t done my hair.’

He picked up a tendril of her mid-brown hair, trailing it gently through his fingers. ‘It looks beautiful the way it is.’ The pitch of his voice lowered and his eyes were a bottomless black.

Juliette swallowed and tried hard not to look at his mouth. ‘Ahem. You’re touching me. Remember the rules?’

He released her hair and stepped back from her with a mercurial smile. ‘How could I forget?’

CHAPTER THREE

JOE DROVE A hand through his own hair once Juliette had retreated to the bathroom. No touching. No kissing. Sure, he could abide by the rules. But he hadn’t realised it would be as difficult as this. It had been hard enough trying to erase the memory of her touch when he was living thousands of kilometres away. But sharing a suite with her this weekend was going to test his resolve in ways he wasn’t prepared for.

He hadn’t expected the chemistry to still be there. He hadn’t expected the hot, tight ache of desire to grip him so brutally. He hadn’t expected to feel anything other than guilt about how things had panned out between them. The guilt was still there, spreading cruel tentacles around his intestines like a poisonous strangling vine. Tentacles that crawled up into his chest and wrapped around his heart and squeezed, squeezed, squeezed like a savage fist.

Truth was, he’d been almost relieved when she hadn’t answered his texts and emails. It meant he didn’t have to face the train wreck he’d caused. The further along her pregnancy went, the longer he’d stayed away on business. Business others under his employ could have easily seen to. But no, he had wanted—needed—to throw himself into the distraction of work, because watching Juliette growing with his child had secretly terrified him. What if she died during childbirth? What if, like his mother, she had a complication and no one could save her?

Had he caused the loss of their baby by not being there? Had his absence caused Juliette unnecessary stress? Hindsight was all very well, but he had thought he was doing the right thing at the time. They weren’t in a love relationship. They had married for the sake of the baby and Juliette had seemed okay with that arrangement. Providing stability and security had been his focus.

His focus since their separation had been channelling his efforts into fundraising for a stillbirth research foundation. It had been his way of dealing with his own grief. He considered it far more productive than falling into a heap like his father had done. Joe wanted the money raised to help others, to prevent others from experiencing the devastation of losing a child at birth. Research was expensive and counselling services were always seriously underfunded. But that was changing as a result of his efforts. His own regular large donations along with the fundraising programme he had orchestrated would hopefully reduce the number of stillbirths across the globe.

Joe changed into his fresh clothes and unpacked the rest from his small travel bag and hung them in the wardrobe next to hers. He touched the silk sleeve of one of her tops, lifting it to his nose to smell the lingering scent of her signature perfume. For months after she’d left, he couldn’t go into the bedroom they had shared. He’d got his housekeeper to move his things into another room. A room without memories and triggers.

He slid the door closed on the wardrobe, wishing he could lock away his desire as easily. He’d wanted to kiss her. No doubt about that. His lips still burned with the need to feel the soft press of hers. Joe knew he was wrong for Juliette. He was relationship poison. He couldn’t seem to help destroying those he cared about. But seeing her again made him realise there was unfinished business between them. Was that why he hadn’t made more of a fuss about the booking mix-up? Yes, he’d been concerned about upsetting Damon’s young cousin, Celeste, but he might have found some way to resolve the situation even if he had to stay on the other side of the island. And, truth be told, he could have refused the invitation to be Damon’s best man in the first place and no one would have blamed him.

But he hadn’t because on some level, be it conscious or subconscious, he wanted to be here for the weekend on Corfu with Juliette. On neutral ground. Somewhere where there were no triggers and tripwires to the heartbreak of their past. It suited him to be in close proximity to her, to reassure himself he hadn’t totally destroyed her as well as their relationship.

A relationship that might have had a better chance if their baby had lived.

A tight ache spread through his chest when he thought of that lifeless little body. His baby girl with her little wizened pixie face, her tiny feet and hands, her permanently closed eyes.

Was there some sort of curse surrounding him and birth? His own birth had brought about his mother’s death. His birthday—the day in the year he dreaded more than any other—was the anniversary of his mother’s death. The very same day he had met Juliette in that London bar that had changed both their lives for ever.

The bathroom door opened and Juliette came out with her hair fashioned in a stylish knot on top of her head. ‘Bathroom’s all yours,’ she said, avoiding his gaze.

Joe swept his gaze over her candy-pink calf-length dress with its waist cinched in with a patent leather belt and her matching high heels that showcased her slender ankles. He had never met anyone who could look so effortlessly elegant. Whether she was wearing track pants and a sweatshirt or designer wear, she always took his breath away. And when she was naked he forgot to breathe at all. ‘You look stunning.’

Her creamy cheeks pooled with colour. ‘Thank you.’ Her gaze flicked away from his and she moved past him to get to the wardrobe. ‘I’ll just get my evening purse.’

Joe had to clench his hands into fists to stop himself touching her. The suite wasn’t large enough to keep a safe distance. It needed to be the size of a small nation for that. The suite was mostly open-plan with a king-sized bed dominating the bedroom area, with no door between that and the lounge area. No more than a metre or two from the bed was a sofa and single armchair and coffee table and there were minibar facilities near the windows to maximise the view over Barbati Beach. The en suite bathroom was luxuriously appointed but was hardly what anyone would call spacious. For a honeymoon, it would be ideal.

But they weren’t on a honeymoon.

Juliette opened the wardrobe and took her purse from one of the shelf compartments. He watched as her eyes went to his clothes hanging next to hers. Saw her teeth sink into her bottom lip and a small frown pull at her forehead.

‘Is that against the rules?’ Joe asked, leaning against the wall near her. ‘To have our clothes touching?’

She stiffened and then shut the wardrobe with a little more force than was necessary. Her cheeks were a fiery red, her grey-blue eyes reminding him of a storm-tossed sea. ‘We wouldn’t need rules if you would stop looking at me like that.’

‘How am I looking at you?’

She pursed her lips and put her chin up at a haughty height. ‘Like you want to touch me.’

‘I do want to touch you but the rules are the rules.’ Joe wanted to touch her so badly it was all he could do to keep his hands under control.

She swallowed and her blush deepened. She dropped her evening purse on the bed and adjusted the belt around her dress. ‘I should never have slept with you in the first place. It was totally out of character for me to do something like that.’

‘I know it was,’ Joe said, pushing himself away from the wall to approach her. ‘That’s why that night was so memorable.’

She frowned. ‘Are you saying…you found it special?’

He gave a crooked smile and, before he could stop himself, he stroked a lazy finger down the curve of her cheek. ‘I’d never met someone like you before.’

‘Because I wasn’t madly in love with you like most women are?’ Her eyes glittered with sparks of cynicism.

He traced the outline of her lush mouth, knowing he was breaking the rules but unable to resist the temptation. ‘You weren’t interested in my money or my status. You just wanted to be distracted from a bad day, just like I wanted to be.’

Her tongue swept over her lips and she gave another audible swallow. ‘Joe, we’re going to be late for the drinks thing.’

Right now, Joe didn’t care if they never made it to their friends’ wedding. Being with Juliette—breathing in her scent, feeling the softness of her lips under his fingertip—made his blood pound with longing. A slow drag began pulling at his groin—a primal need he had shut down, ignored, blocked out with work, pulsed to vibrant and undeniable life. He slid his hand to the nape of her neck, meshing his gaze with hers. ‘Why aren’t you telling me to stop touching you?’

She gave a shuddery breath and her gaze dipped to his mouth. ‘I—I don’t know…’ Her voice was whisper-soft.

He brought up her chin with his finger and locked her gaze with his. ‘I’ll tell you why, cara. Because deep down you want to be touched by me. You think a bunch of silly rules is going to damp down the explosive chemistry we still share?’ It certainly wasn’t damping down his. Not one little bit. He could feel the electric energy passing between them like a hot fizzing current. He could see it reflected in her eyes—the flicker of her eyelashes, the dart of her gaze to his mouth, the quick sweep of her tongue over her lips.

But then her gaze hardened and she placed her hand around his wrist and pulled it away from her face, shooting him a laser-like glare. ‘There is no chemistry. I don’t feel a thing where you’re concerned. Not a damn thing.’

He captured her hand and tugged her close against his body. ‘Want to put that to the test? One kiss. Let’s see what happens.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Her expression was scathing but her tone contained a trace of something else. Something that sounded very much like a dare.

Oh, he dared all right.

Joe breathed in the achingly familiar scent of her, brought his mouth as close to hers as he could without actually touching her lips. ‘Just one little kiss.’

‘You think I won’t be able to help myself, like the night we met? But I can and I will.’

‘Prove it.’

Her eyes went to his mouth. ‘I don’t need to prove anything to you.’

‘Prove it to yourself then.’

She wavered for a moment, her eyes going to his mouth and back to his eyes. Then her eyes glazed over with chilly determination. ‘Okay. I’ll show you how immune I am to you.’ She rose on tiptoe and planted a brief chaste kiss on his lips. She lowered her heels back to the floor and gave him an arch look. ‘See? No fireworks.’

Joe gave a soft chuckle and released her. ‘Probably just as well. I don’t think anyone, least of all Damon and Lucy, are going to believe we’ve reconciled.’

A frown pulled at her brow. ‘You’re not going to…?’ She clamped her mouth shut and turned away to reach for her purse on the bed. ‘So, what are we going to tell them?’ Her back was turned towards him, her hands fiddling with the clasp on her purse but he could see the tension in her slim back and shoulders as if she was bracing herself for his answer.

‘We’ll tell them the truth.’

She swung back round to face him, her expression wary. ‘The truth?’

‘That we’re mature adults who are in the process of an amicable separation. Sharing a room for a couple of nights will not be a problem for us.’

Her brows rose. ‘Amicable? Not a problem? Funny, but I don’t see it quite that way.’

‘Think about it, Juliette,’ Joe said. ‘We could go out there and pretend to be back together and then you’d have to allow me to touch you. Otherwise no one is going to buy it. I’d have to hold your hand, slip my arm around your waist, kiss you. You’d have to lie to your best friend. Is that what you want?’

Her small neat chin came up and her grey-blue eyes pulsated with anger. ‘I want this weekend to be over. That’s what I want.’

‘Yeah, well, I want that too.’

Then maybe he could move on with his life.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE WELCOME DRINKS party was on the terrace in front of the infinity pool that overlooked the beach. The area was decorated with lanterns with golden flickering candles inside and honeysuckle and orange blossom scented the evening air. A champagne tower was on a table festooned with ribbons and posies of flowers on each corner. Two waiters dressed in white shirts, black trousers and black bowties were on standby to hand around a delicious-looking array of finger food. A string quartet was playing at one end of the terrace with a backdrop of cascading scarlet bougainvillea. There was a large sandwich board framed by pink and white flowers with a large love heart in the centre with Lucy and Damon’s names written in beautiful calligraphy. Juliette had never seen such a romantic setting and tried not to compare it to her own wedding reception.

There certainly hadn’t been any sandwich boards with love hearts on them.

Celeste Petrakis, the wedding planner, a slim young woman in her early twenties with short spiky black hair, was carrying a tablet in her hand and came dashing over to Juliette and Joe as soon as they came out to the terrace.

‘Oh, my God, I’m so sorry but I think I’ve messed up your booking,’ Celeste said. ‘I only put down one J Allegranza on my list. I don’t know how I got that wrong. I know Damon told me you guys were separated but I must have forgotten. Blame it on my chemo brain or something. I’m so embarrassed I want to die.’ She clamped a hand over her mouth, her big brown eyes going wide as if she was worried she was going to get struck by lightning by a vengeful God. ‘Oops. Didn’t mean that. I’ve spent the last two years trying not to do that. But, seriously, I’m awfully embarrassed all the same.’

Joe stood close to Juliette but didn’t touch her. ‘It’s fine, Celeste. We have no problem sharing a room.’

Juliette forced her lips into the semblance of a smile. ‘Yes, indeed. So please don’t worry, Celeste. You’ve done a brilliant job of organising everything. I’ve never seen such a lovely setting for a wedding. It looks like it’s going to be an amazing weekend for Lucy and Damon.’

Celeste clasped a hand to her heart, her eyes dewy with emotion. ‘Does that mean…? Oh, how romantic! I’m so happy for you both. We’ll have a special toast for you guys later toni—’

‘No.’ Joe’s tone was as blunt as a sledgehammer on a slice of sponge cake. ‘We’re not back together.’

Celeste’s face fell and she bit down on her lip. ‘Oh…sorry, I misunderstood. Do you want me to organise a fold-out bed for you? I mean, you might not want to share—’

‘That would be wonderful, if there’s one available,’ Juliette said, trying to ignore the magnetic heat of Joe’s body within touching distance of hers. If she moved even a fraction of a millimetre her arm would brush against him. It was almost impossible to control the urge to do so.

Touch him. Touch him. Touch him.

The chant was trying to keep up with her racing pulse.

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Celeste said, glancing between Joe and Juliette as if she couldn’t quite work them out. ‘I can only apologise again for this stuff-up. I would hate for you to be inconvenienced by my mishandling of—’

‘Don’t stress,’ Joe said, moving slightly, his arm brushing against the bare skin of Juliette’s, sending a shivery sensation through her flesh. ‘It’s not a problem.’

Juliette moved half a step away and gave the wedding planner a rictus smile. ‘We don’t want to draw attention away from Lucy and Damon. It’s their special weekend, not ours.’

‘Thank you for being so amazingly good about it.’ Celeste gave them a finger wave and dashed away to greet some other guests coming out to the terrace.

Juliette glanced up at Joe. ‘I need to speak to Lucy. She’ll stress if she thinks I’m not okay about this. It’ll ruin her wedding day for her if she’s worrying about me—’

‘Then pretend to be okay. It’s not that hard.’

She glowered at him. ‘Easy for you to say, Mr Show No Emotion.’

Joe shrugged and turned to look at the guests coming out to the terrace. ‘It doesn’t mean I don’t have them.’ The bottom register of his voice throbbed with something she had never heard in it before.

Juliette frowned and chewed on the inside of her lip. He was always so aloof and distant. He was like a steep and rocky island she continually circled, looking for a place to anchor.

His eyes met hers in a lock that made the backs of her knees shiver. ‘This weekend could be a blessing in disguise. It could be a chance to sort out some of our issues. Not in the presence of other people, but while we’re alone.’

While we’re alone.

Juliette had to do everything in her power not to be alone with him. The only time she wanted to be alone with him was to hand him those hot-off-the-press divorce papers. ‘I don’t think our issues are the type that can get sorted out over a weekend, Joe. Not even over a lifetime.’

‘Maybe, but at least we should try. I have some regret over how I handled our relationship.’

He had regret? She didn’t want to hear about his supposed regret. She had regrets in their multitudes. She had known he had only married her out of duty and she had married him anyway. He had been there for her on his terms, not hers. It had been a fly-in, fly-out marriage that was doomed from the start. Being with him now reminded her of how stupid she had been.

She’d foolishly believed their baby would bond them—would help him fall in love with her as well as their child. She had wanted him to love her. Wasn’t that every girl’s dream? If he had loved her then it would have made her feel better about how they had come together in the first place. It would absolve some of her nagging guilt about her own feelings. She had fallen in lust with him. Simple and bald and blatant as that. Lust was what she still felt for him and it had to stop.

She had to stop fuelling the fire that blazed inside her.

Juliette sent him an icy look. ‘There isn’t anything you could say to me that would make me want to resume our relationship. Nothing. So don’t get any funny ideas that this weekend is going to magically fix what wasn’t right in the first place.’

A waiter approached with a tray of drinks and Juliette took a glass of champagne. She was acutely conscious of Joe standing beside her, his arm brushing hers as he reached for a drink sending another hot shiver coursing through her body. Nerves and other emotions she didn’t want to think about had her halfway through her drink before Joe had even taken a sip.

‘Did you hear me say I want us to get back together?’ There was a bite in his tone that nipped at her feminine pride. His eyes were espresso coffee dark and glittering with barely suppressed anger. ‘That’s the last thing I want.’

Juliette took another sip of champagne and then looked down at the remaining bubbles in her glass. ‘Good to know.’ It was good, wasn’t it? He wanted out. She wanted out. Why then was her chest feeling as if something heavy was pressing all the air out of her lungs? She rapid blinked to clear her suddenly blurry vision, her throat so tight it felt as if a champagne cork was stuck halfway down.

Joe released a long slow breath and moved closer again, resting his hand on the top of her shoulder. The anger had gone from his gaze, to be replaced by a brooding frown. ‘I apologise for being blunt but what’s done is done and can’t be undone.’

Juliette summoned her pride back on duty and brushed off his hand as if it was soiling her dress. ‘I thought we agreed not to touch?’ Her tone was sharp, her glare cutting.

‘Please welcome the bride and groom.’ Celeste’s cheery voice rang out and the string quartet accompanied Lucy and Damon as they came out onto the terrace to cheers and applause from the assembled guests.

The press of the other guests gathering for a better view brought Joe to stand shoulder to shoulder with Juliette to make more room. Juliette painted a smile on her lips while her elbow landed a surreptitious jab in his ribs. He gave a low grunt that sounded far sexier than she had bargained for and a wave of heat rose over her skin. The steel band of his arm came around her and his hand glided down to her hip in a hold that was blatantly possessive. She glanced at his left hand resting on her hip and saw the gold glint of his wedding ring. The ring that claimed her as his. She was conscious of every point of contact as if her body had been finely programmed to recognise his touch.

She could have been blindfolded and still known it was him.

Lucy and Damon approached arm in arm and with wide smiles. An aura of happiness surrounded them and Juliette wished some of it could brush off on her. Why couldn’t she have found happy-ever-after love?

‘Oh my gosh, I can’t believe my eyes,’ Lucy said, grabbing Juliette in a bone-crushing hug that almost spilt the rest of her champagne. ‘What’s going on? Don’t tell me you two are—?’

‘No.’ Joe’s strident tone served to underline the word and land another free kick to Juliette’s self-esteem. His arm dropped from around her waist and he added, ‘There was a mix-up with the accommodation and we’re trying to make it easy on Celeste, who double booked the room.’

‘Oh, well, then…’ Lucy’s eyes began to twinkle as brightly as the princess diamond ring on her finger. ‘I hope it won’t be too much of a problem for you sharing?’ There was a wink-wink-say-no-more quality to her tone.

‘No problem at all.’ Juliette kept her features under tight control but she couldn’t control the creep of warm colour she could feel pooling in her cheeks. Or the lingering hot tingle on her hip where Joe’s hand had rested just moments before.

Damon grinned and grasped Joe’s hand. ‘Who knows what a weekend on Corfu will do, eh? Great to have you both here to share our special day with us.’

‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,’ Joe said with an enigmatic smile.

After a moment or two, Lucy and Damon moved on to greet other guests, and Juliette lifted her glass to her lips and drained it. ‘No problem sharing a room. Who knew what a consummate liar I could be? Go me.’

Joe’s expression was shadowed by a contemplative frown. ‘As I said, we could use this weekend to help both of us move forward.’

She raised her brows, sending him a scathing look. ‘And how do you propose we do that? Hmm? Kiss and make up? Thanks, but no thanks.’

He took her empty glass off her and placed it on the stone balustrade nearby. ‘It would be a start, don’t you think?’ His darkened gaze dipped to her mouth as if he were recalling every kiss they had ever exchanged.

Juliette’s lips tingled and she fought not to lick her lips to draw any more of his attention to them. She sent him an arch look. ‘That’s how we got into this mess, if you remember. You kissed me.’

One side of his mouth came up in a sardonic half-smile. ‘I seem to recall you made the first move.’

She ground her teeth so hard she was worried they would turn to powder on the spot. Did he have to remind her how forward and brazen she had been that night? So reckless and out of character. She shot him a pointed glare. ‘You didn’t have to take me up on it.’

‘You seriously overestimate my willpower, cara.’

Juliette’s chin came up. ‘You’d better make sure it’s in better shape this time around.’

One of his ink-black brows lifted. ‘For when you beg me to take you to bed, you mean?’

Her hands clenched into tight balls by her sides in case she was tempted to slap him. ‘Not going to happen.’ She injected as much confidence in her tone as she could.

His lazy smile made the base of her spine fizz and tingle. He picked up one of her fists and gently prised open her fingers, his thumb stroking the middle of her palm in a way that was unmistakably sexual. His gaze held hers in a mesmerising lock no amount of willpower to resist could ever have matched. ‘You shouldn’t be ashamed of our chemistry.’ The pitch of his voice lowered to a knee-weakening burr.

Juliette pulled her hand out of his, rubbing at it as if he had burned her. ‘I’m not ashamed. I’m disgusted. And for God’s sake, stop touching me.’

His smile didn’t fade but a line of tension appeared next to his mouth and his eyes hardened. ‘Careful, cara. We’re in public, remember? Sheath those pretty claws until we’re alone. Then you can rake them down my back to your heart’s desire.’

Juliette had to blink away the scorching-hot images his words evoked. Her body was on fire, swamped with memories of his masterful lovemaking. It had taken her almost two years to be able to reach an orgasm with her ex and even then it was hit and miss thereafter. She had practically orgasmed on the spot the moment Joe kissed her the first time. He never took his pleasure before he satisfied her. He knew her body better than she knew it herself. She had explored every inch of his and, by doing so, had found a passionate and adventurous streak in her personality she hadn’t known existed. Standing within touching distance now made her body miss him all the more. She could feel a magnetic pull towards him as if an invisible current of energy was calling her back to base.

To distract herself, she took another glass of champagne off a passing waiter. She figured it was better to keep her hands and mouth otherwise occupied.

‘Do you know any of the other wedding party guests?’ Joe asked after a long moment.

Juliette crossed her arms and cupped one hand under her elbow, holding her champagne glass in the other hand. ‘Only Lucy. And Damon, of course. I haven’t met any of the four other bridesmaids before because they’re friends Lucy made since moving to Greece. What about you?’

‘I’d heard about his cousin Celeste but not met her before today. But I’ve met two of the bridesmaids once or twice before.’ He took a measured sip of his drink, lowering his glass from his mouth to glance at the view over the terrace.

A dagger of jealousy jabbed her in the gut. ‘Oh, really?’ Juliette made sure her tone was just mildly interested when in fact she wanted to know dates, times, places and whether he had been to bed with either of them. How could any woman resist him? She certainly hadn’t been able to.

Joe turned to look at her with an unreadable expression. ‘It’s kind of ironic how Damon and Lucy met through us, isn’t it?’

‘Ironic in what way?’

He gave a one-shoulder shrug and looked down at the contents of his glass, twirling it to set the bubbles spinning. ‘They seem pretty happy together. Whether or not it lasts is another thing.’

‘Do you have to be so cynical? They’re in love. Anyone can see that. That’s what we were lacking. We married for all the wrong reasons.’

He didn’t respond and instead tipped his glass back and drained it. She couldn’t take her eyes off the strong tanned column of his throat and the peppery regrowth on his jaw that, in spite of a recent shave, was already vigorously reappearing. How many times had she felt his stubble against her soft skin? On her face, on her belly, between her thighs…

Juliette suppressed a shudder and turned to look at the other guests milling about for the next part of the entertainment the wedding planner had organised. Which bridesmaids had Joe met before? The blonde one? The sleek raven-haired one? The one with the big boobs and legs that went on for ever?

Joe held out his hand for her empty glass. ‘Would you like something soft this time? Orange juice? Mineral water?’

Juliette handed the glass to him, being extra careful not to touch his fingers. ‘Are you hinting I might drink to excess and make a fool of myself?’

He drew in a breath and pressed his lips into a flat line before releasing it. ‘Look, I know the situation this weekend is hard on you. It’s the first time we’ve seen each other face to face since you left.’ His hands were thrust in his trouser pockets, his broad shoulders rolled forward. ‘I would have preferred meeting with you in London but you didn’t respond to any of my attempts to contact you.’

Juliette had ignored his texts and emails for months. She had even blocked his number on her phone. It had been her way of punishing him for not being there when she’d needed him the most. But in a way she had punished herself because she had made herself completely isolated. Her friends and family had tried to support her but, a few months in, they were all suffering compassion fatigue. Even Lucy, with the distraction of her wedding preparations, hadn’t been as available to her, especially since Juliette hadn’t felt up to illustrating the books they wrote together since the loss of Emilia. She’d desperately needed to be with someone who knew and understood what she was going through—the grief, the pain, the loss. She looked down at the flagstones at her feet rather than meet his gaze. ‘I wasn’t ready. I found it too…triggering.’

He moved closer to her and lightly touched the back of her hand with one of his fingers. ‘That’s completely understandable.’ His voice was gentle as a caress and her hand tingled as if it had been zapped by a live current.

Juliette brought her gaze up to meet his. ‘Do you think about her?’

His eyes flickered as if he was suffering a deep internal pain and only just managing to control it. ‘All the time. That’s why I’ve regularly donated to and been fundraising for a stillbirth research foundation for the last few months. I wanted to do something positive to help others in our situation. If you’d happened to read any emails from me, you would have known about it. I donated money on behalf of both of us.’

A stillbirth research foundation? Juliette’s heart contracted. He had been fundraising for a stillbirth foundation?

The anger she wore like armour dropped away like a sloughed skin, leaving her feeling stripped of her defences. Defences she needed to keep her from getting hurt all over again. She hadn’t read any of his emails for the last fifteen months. She had marked them as spam and felt immensely satisfied doing it.

Knowing now he was doing something for others was all very well, but what about helping her through the worst time of her life? She had stood by their baby’s grave alone. Time and time again, she had grieved in isolation. ‘But I don’t get it. You tell me you’ve donated money and, knowing you, it would be a significant amount, but you haven’t once visited her grave since the funeral.’

His mouth went into a tight line. ‘Graveyards aren’t my thing. I prefer to pay my respects in other ways.’

Every week when Juliette visited her baby’s grave, she hoped to see flowers or a card or toy left by Joe. But there was nothing. She couldn’t understand it and nor could she forgive it, in spite of his generosity to others. He came to London for work regularly—how hard would it have been to drop by the cemetery and hand-deliver flowers or a soft toy? Or didn’t he want to be reminded of their baby and their broken marriage?

‘Were you keeping away in case you ran into me?’ She couldn’t tone down the accusing note in her voice.

He looked down at her with an unreadable expression. His features could have been carved in stone. ‘How often do you go?’

‘Every week.’

‘Does it help your grieving process?’

Juliette blew out a frustrated breath. ‘Nothing helps with that. But at least I feel I’m not ignoring her.’

‘Is that what you think I’m doing?’

She raised her chin to a combative height. ‘Aren’t you?’

He drew in another sharp breath and turned again to look at the view. His posture was stiff and tight as if invisible steel cables were holding him upright. ‘There’s no right way to grieve, Juliette. What works for one might not work for someone else.’ He spoke through gritted teeth, his hands thrust back in his trouser pockets.

‘And is your grieving process working?’

He turned his head to look at her with a grim expression. ‘What do you think?’

Juliette shifted her mouth from side to side and looked away. Trouble was, she didn’t know what to think. He had never behaved the way she had expected him to behave. He hadn’t expressed the words she had wanted to hear or done the things she had hoped he would do. Their relationship had been based on his sense of duty towards her and the baby, so when the baby was lost there was no reason to stay together. He hadn’t given her a good enough reason to continue their relationship. He hadn’t expressed any feelings for her. But then, neither had she for him. She had been incapable of expressing anything but profound grief, which had in time morphed into anger.

She schooled her features into coolly impersonal lines and turned to face him again. ‘I think you’re secretly relieved we no longer have a reason to stay together.’

His jaw worked for a moment and his mouth tightened into a flat line. ‘Let’s leave that discussion until later. We’re at our friends’ wedding, remember?’ And, without another word, he turned and left her with nothing but the company of the ocean-scented breeze.

CHAPTER FIVE

AFTER THE BRIEF wedding rehearsal Joe made idle conversation with some of the other guests but his mind was stuck on Juliette. He kept searching for her in the knot of people, a tight fluttering sensation going through his chest every time he caught sight of her honey-brown head in the crowd.

He had thought often of going to the cemetery where their baby was buried in England but each time he baulked. His father had dragged him to his mother’s graveside to pay his respects on each and every birthday until he was a teenager. It had been a form of torture to stand by that headstone knowing he was the reason his mother was beneath it. No amount of wishing and praying and hoping could bring his mother or his baby daughter back. No number of visits, flowers or cards could undo what was done. He had always found his father’s way of grieving a destructive process. Joe had chosen a different outlet—a constructive way of processing his grief by raising money for the research that would hopefully save lives and, no doubt, relationships.

But now, touching Juliette, standing next to her, breathing in the scent of her stirred his blood and upped his pulse and made him wonder if there was a chance something positive could come out of their situation. The chemistry was still there, as hot and electric as ever. The explosive chemistry that had kick-started their relationship was the one thing he could rely on to get it going again. He felt the pull of it like an invisible force drawing him to her. He’d had to stuff his hands in his pockets to stop reaching for her. He couldn’t be in the same room as her without wanting her. Damn it—he couldn’t be in the same country without aching with the need to take her in his arms.

Juliette turned and looked at him across the now moonlit terrace and a small creature scuttled through the ventricles of his heart. Girl-next-door-pretty rather than classically beautiful, she still had the power to snatch his breath. Her grey-blue eyes reminded him of a deep stormy sea with shifting shadows. Her slim frame was ballerina-like with a natural elegance of movement. And her skin was pale but she had a dusting of freckles over the bridge of her upturned nose that reminded him of sprinkled nutmeg. Her mouth was a Cupid’s bow of pink lushness that drew his gaze like a magnet and he realised with a sharp pang how much he missed her sunshine-bright smile. Not those fake ones she flashed when required but a genuine one that lit up her face and eyes.

Juliette’s gaze shifted back to the older couple next to her who were the bride’s parents, but Joe could see she wasn’t really engaged in the conversation. She kept chewing at her lower lip and fiddling with the clasp of her evening purse as if she couldn’t wait for the evening to be over.

And soon it would be over and they would be alone in their suite.

The string quartet was playing dance numbers and several couples were dancing further along the terrace. He remembered the first time he’d danced with Juliette, how she had moved with him with such natural rhythm as if they had been dancing together for years.

Making love had been the same.

After their one-night stand and they had gone their separate ways, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. He’d had commitments back in Italy and then another project in Germany but he hadn’t stopped thinking about her. And then, out of the blue, she’d called him and told him she was carrying his child. The news had stunned him. They had used protection but fate had decided to step in and create a new life. A life that hadn’t lasted long enough to take a single independent breath.

Joe let out a long sigh as the familiar pain seized his chest whenever he thought of his tiny baby daughter. He blamed himself for not being there when Juliette went into early labour. Perhaps if he had been there to take her to hospital earlier things might have panned out differently. There were so many things he wished he had done differently.

Joe wove through the small crowd to join her, taking one of her hands in his. ‘Would you like to dance?’ He figured it was one way he could legitimately hold her in his arms. And, more importantly, stop her from dancing with anyone else.

She looked as if she were about to refuse, but then she shrugged, not quite meeting his gaze. ‘Sure. Why not?’

Joe led her to the part of the terrace set up for dancing, overlooking the ocean below. The string quartet was now playing a romantic ballad and he gathered her close, moving with her to the slow rhythm of the music. ‘You didn’t look like you were enjoying the conversation you were having back there,’ he said, breathing in the flowery scent of her hair.

Juliette glanced up at him with a frown. ‘Was it so obvious?’

‘Only to me.’ He led her further away from the other guests who had joined them on the dance floor. ‘Do you know Lucy’s parents well?’

‘Pretty well. I spent a fair bit of time at their house when Lucy and I were teenagers.’ She gave a little sigh and added, ‘I was really envious of her. Her parents were so different from mine.’

‘In what way?’

She didn’t respond for so long, he wondered if she hadn’t heard him. But then she aimed her gaze at his shirt front and spoke in a low tone. ‘They were so…so uncritical. I don’t think I’ve ever heard them say anything negative about her or the choices she made.’

Joe eased back to look down at her. ‘And your parents were critical and negative?’

She gave a little eye-roll and lowered her gaze back to his shirt front. ‘Not so much when there’s an audience. They’re way too polite and subtle for that. But I know how much I’ve disappointed them by not being as academically gifted as them and my two older brothers.’

Joe couldn’t say he was all that surprised by her confession. But it niggled him that he hadn’t drawn her out a little more on her family while they were living together. What did that say about him? What sort of husband didn’t show an interest in his wife’s background?

A husband with a troubled background of his own who wanted no questions asked, that was who.

Joe had only met her parents and brothers twice—at the wedding and then Emilia’s funeral. The funeral was a bit of a blur to him and they hadn’t been particularly warm towards him at the wedding—but he hadn’t been expecting them to welcome him with open arms. They’d been polite in a stiff upper lip kind of way, but then his courtship of their only daughter hadn’t exactly been ideal. A one-night stand pregnancy was hardly the way to impress and win over in-laws but he hadn’t wanted his child to grow up without knowing him. Marriage had been the best option in his opinion.

Their child had to come first—the baby had been his top priority.

Her parents hadn’t come to the hospital when they’d lost the baby as they were on a long-haul international flight. Juliette had flown to England to visit her parents before they’d left for a three-month tour abroad. She had been booked on a flight back to Italy the next day when she’d gone into labour. He’d flown back as soon as he heard but he got there too late.

‘But you’re so talented, Juliette. Your illustrations are amazing. Aren’t they proud of your work?’

Her gaze was downcast, her mouth downturned. ‘I’m the only person in my family without a PhD. I barely scraped through my GCSEs. A children’s book illustrator isn’t what they consider a worthwhile career, especially as I don’t even have an art degree. They’re proud I’ve had stuff published, sure, but they still see it as a kind of hobby.’ She gave another sigh that made her slim shoulders go down. ‘I haven’t done a sketch in months so maybe they’re right. It’s time to find something else. I don’t know how Lucy has put up with me this long. It’s not just my career on hold, but hers too.’

Joe placed one of his hands along the curve of her creamy cheek, meshing his gaze with her troubled one. ‘You don’t need to think about a career until you’re ready, cara. I’ve been depositing funds in your bank account to more than cover any loss of income.’

A tinge of pink spread across her cheeks but a determined light came into her eyes. ‘I don’t want or need your money. I haven’t touched a penny of it.’

Joe brushed his thumb pad across the small round circle of her chin. ‘You hate me that much?’

Something flickered in her gaze until her lashes came down over her eyes to lock him out. ‘I never wanted your money. That wasn’t why I married you.’ She stepped out of his hold and crossed her arms over her body as if she were cold but the night air was balmy and warm.

‘Yes, well, we both know why you married me.’ Joe couldn’t remove the cynicism from his tone in time. ‘You wanted to show your cheating ex you’d moved on.’

She pressed her lips into a flat line, the colour in her cheeks darkening. ‘That’s not true. It had nothing to do with him. I can barely remember what he looks like now. I thought I was doing the best thing by the baby by marrying you. Anyway, you were the one who insisted on marriage. I would’ve been just as happy with a co-parenting arrangement.’

‘Have you heard from your ex? Do you ever see him?’ Joe wasn’t sure why he was asking because he didn’t want to know. He could do without the punishment, the torture, the despair of imagining her with someone else. He had never considered himself the jealous type. But the thought of her being intimate with someone else made his gut churn. The thought of her having another child with someone else sent a tight band of pain across his chest until he could hardly draw a breath.

Juliette flashed him an irritated look. ‘I hardly see how it’s any of your business who I see or don’t see.’

Joe led her by the elbow away from the other dancers to a quieter part further along the terrace. ‘It’s my business because we’re still legally married.’

He lowered his hand from her elbow but he had to summon up every bit of willpower he possessed to stop from pulling her back into his arms and crashing his mouth down on hers. To remind her of the passion that sparked between them. The passion that was charging the atmosphere even now.

Which brought him to a perplexing question—what the hell was he going to do about it? He had already made mistakes with Juliette. Big mistakes. Mistakes that couldn’t be undone. Would it be asking for trouble to revisit their relationship? To see if it was worth salvaging?

Her gaze glittered with defiance. ‘I find it highly amusing how you’re suddenly so interested in my private life after all these months.’ She glanced at his mouth as if she was expecting him to do what he was tempted to do. ‘And why do you keep wearing your wedding ring? It seems rather pointless.’

Joe reached for her left hand, running his thumb over her empty ring finger. He was expecting her to pull away but, surprisingly, she didn’t. Instead her gaze meshed with his and her tongue darted out to sweep across her lower lip, her throat rising and falling over a swallow.

‘It’s not entirely pointless. It keeps me free of unwanted female attention.’ He waited a beat before continuing. ‘I still have your wedding and engagement rings.’ Joe wasn’t sure why he was telling her that snippet of useless information. Did it make him sound like a sentimental fool who hadn’t got over the walk-out of his wife? Should he tell her he hadn’t removed one article of her clothing from his wardrobe? That he couldn’t even use the same bedroom they had shared as it caused him too much gut-wrenching pain? And don’t get him started on the nursery. He hadn’t opened that door once. Not once. Opening that door would be tearing open a deep and devastating wound.

Juliette glanced down at their joined hands before returning her gaze to his. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t pawned them by now or found someone else to give them to.’

Joe stroked the soft flesh of her palm, watching as her pupils flared and her breath quickened. ‘They belong to you.’

Her chin came up, an intransigent light sparking in her eyes. ‘I don’t want them.’

‘Maybe, but still you want me.’ Joe brought her hip to hip to his body, his gaze lowering to her mouth. ‘Don’t you, mio piccolo?’

Juliette licked her lips again, her eyes flicking to his mouth. ‘No.’ Her tone was firm but her body swayed towards him as if propelled by a force bigger than her will to resist.

He tipped up her chin, stroking her lower lip with his thumb. ‘Pride is a funny thing, is it not? I would like to say I don’t want you either but I would be lying to myself as well as you.’

She drew in a breath and released it in a shuddery rush. ‘Joe…please…’

‘Please, what?’ Joe cupped one side of her face with his hand, the other hand going to the small of her back to bring her even closer to the throb and ache of his lower body. ‘Are you going to deny what you’re feeling right now? What you’ve felt from the moment I walked into the suite this afternoon? What you felt the first time we met? It’s why you blocked my phone and emails, isn’t it? You don’t want to be reminded of what you feel for me.’

Juliette swallowed again, her hands creeping up to rest against his chest, her gaze homing in on his mouth. ‘We’re separated now and—’

‘We’re not separated this weekend. We’re sharing a room. Sharing a bed.’

‘No, we’re not.’ Her hands fell away from his chest, her gaze defiant. ‘Celeste said she was going to get a fold-out for—’

‘I spoke to her a few minutes ago,’ Joe said. ‘She wasn’t able to get one in time for tonight but she’ll try again tomorrow.’

Her gaze flicked back to his, the line of her mouth pulling tight. She stepped back, her posture stiff, guarded. ‘We both need to move on with our lives. It would only complicate things to go backwards instead of forwards.’

She placed her left hand against her temple and closed her eyes as if in silent prayer. ‘Please, Joe. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.’ She lowered her hand from her face and looked up at him again with an expression that shone anew with determination. ‘I’m going back to the room. To sleep. Alone.’

Juliette managed to slip away without any of the wedding party noticing and went back to the suite and closed the door with a heavy sigh. She’d been so tempted to dance with Joe all night, to find any excuse to be in his arms again. But that was the pathway to heartbreak because they didn’t belong together. Not then. Not now.

If only her body didn’t keep betraying her. It was so hard to keep her distance when he only had to look at her and her resistance melted. She had lowered her guard enough to tell him about her frustrating relationship with her parents and her doubts over her career going forward. It was a moment of weakness and yet she had drawn comfort from sharing so openly with him. He had been supportive and understanding in a way she hadn’t expected.

And then there was the stillbirth foundation…

She couldn’t get it out of her mind—how he had raised money for much-needed research. That all this time she had been judging him for not grieving the way she expected, but he’d been doing what he thought would help others. It made it harder for her to access her anger, to keep her emotional distance.

But it didn’t mean they had a future together.

How could they when they weren’t in love, had never been in love and would only be together for the sake of physical chemistry? That wasn’t enough to build a marriage on, especially a marriage that had suffered such a tragedy as theirs. A marriage that would never have come about if it hadn’t been for her accidental pregnancy. She wasn’t the type of woman he normally dated. She wasn’t sophisticated or super-smart and no one could ever call her supermodel beautiful. She would never have been his first choice of bride if she hadn’t fallen pregnant.

Juliette pulled the clips out of her hair and tossed them on the dressing table on her way to the bathroom. Joe’s shaving things were on the bathroom counter and his bottle of cologne right next to her cosmetics. A soft fluttering sensation passed over the floor of her belly. Sharing a bathroom was such an intimate thing to do. Would she be strong enough to resist the temptation he offered? She picked the cologne bottle up, took off the lid and held the neck of the bottle to her nose, closing her eyes to breathe in the citrus notes. She put the bottle back down and put the lid back on.

She had to be strong enough.

She had to.

Juliette came back out to the bedroom and glanced at her tote bag, where the divorce papers were stashed. On Sunday, after Lucy and Damon sailed off, she would whip them out and wave them under Joe’s nose, not before. It gave her a sense of power to know she had them there, waiting for the right moment. He thought he could snap his fingers and she would come running back to him as if nothing had changed. Everything had changed.

She had changed.

And she wasn’t changing back.

Joe came back to the suite later that night to find Juliette asleep in the bedroom with a bank of pillows dividing the king-sized bed in two sections. The bedside lamp was still on and the muted light cast her features into a golden glow. She had taken her hair down and it was spread out over the pillow. Her make-up was removed, leaving her skin as fresh and glowing as a child’s. Her mouth was relaxed in sleep, her lips softly parted, her breathing slow and even. He reached up and loosened his tie, slipping it from around his collar and tossing it to the chair in the corner of the bedroom.

Juliette’s eyes sprang open and she sat upright, blinking at him owlishly. ‘Oh, it’s you…’

‘Thanks for the hearty welcome.’ Joe began to unbutton his shirt.

Her gaze narrowed and she pulled the bedcovers further up her body. ‘What are you doing?’

‘What do you think I’m doing?’ He shrugged off his shirt and tossed it in the same direction as his tie. ‘I’m getting undressed.’

‘Can you do it in the bathroom?’ Her cheeks were a bright shade of pink and her eyes kept avoiding his. ‘And please wear boxers or something. And stay on that side of the bed.’

‘It’s a bit late to be shy, tesoro. I’m familiar with every inch of your body, as indeed you are with mine.’

She threw back the covers and dived for the bathrobe that was hanging over the back of another chair. He caught a tantalising glimpse of café-latte-coloured satin shortie pyjamas, one of the shoestring straps on the camisole top slipping off her shoulder to reveal the upper curve of her breast. She thrust her arms in the bathrobe’s sleeves and knotted the waist ties around her middle with unnecessary force, sending him a scalding glare. ‘Fine. Have it your way. You have the bed and I’ll sleep on the sofa.’ She began to stalk past him but he caught her wrist on the way and stalled her passage.

‘Don’t be so dramatic.’ He let her arm go, opening and closing his fingers to ease the tingling sensation touching her had produced. ‘I’m not going to force myself on you. You have the bed. I’ll take the sofa.’

She bit down on her lip and glanced towards the other section of the suite where the smallish sofa was situated. ‘You’re too tall for it. You won’t sleep a wink.’

He wasn’t going to sleep a wink anyway, not with her so temptingly close. Seeing her all sleep tousled with so much of her creamy skin on show was already stretching the limit of his self-control. ‘I’m sure we can manage to share a bed for two nights without crossing any boundaries.’

She fiddled with the waist ties of her bathrobe, her teeth still worrying her lip. ‘Okay. But you have to promise not to touch me.’

He placed his hand on his heart. ‘You have my solemn word.’

Juliette pursed her lips, her gaze searching his for a moment. ‘Why do I get the feeling you’re laughing at me?’

He lowered his hand from his chest and dropped it back down by his side. ‘Believe me, cara. It’s been a long time since I laughed.’

Her eyes fell away from his and a shadow crossed her features. She turned back to the bed and climbed back under the covers, pulling them up to her chin and turning her back to him. ‘Goodnight.’

Joe’s gaze went to the box of sleep medication on her bedside table. He came over to her side of the bed and perched on the edge. ‘How long have you been taking those?’ He pointed to the medication sitting next to a glass of water.

Juliette turned over onto her back, her expression defensive. ‘I only use them when I can’t sleep.’

‘And how often is that?’

Her eyes shifted out of reach of his and her fingers began plucking at the hem of the sheet. ‘More often than not…’ Her voice was hardly more than a whisper.

Joe stroked back a strand of hair from her forehead, his chest so tight he could barely inflate his lungs to breathe. Guilt rained down on him over how he had handled the last few months. She had suffered alone when he should have been by her side. He’d thought keeping his distance was what she wanted but it clearly hadn’t helped her through the grieving process. It certainly hadn’t helped him either. So many platitudes sprang to his lips—like the irritating comments other people had made to him.

Time is a great healer.

It will get easier.

You’ll be stronger for it.

Instead, he stayed silent.

Her shimmering gaze met his and his chest tightened another painful notch. ‘I can’t help blaming myself. Maybe I shouldn’t have flown home to England to visit my parents before they went on their trip. I didn’t need to go. I could have asked them to visit me instead.’

And why had she flown home to England? Because he’d been away on yet another work commitment, leaving her to fend for herself. If anyone was to blame, it was him. Joe took one of her hands and anchored it to his aching chest. ‘No. You mustn’t blame yourself.’ His voice was so rough it could have filed through metal. ‘You had a dream pregnancy up until then.’

Her mouth twisted. ‘You weren’t there for the first three months. It wasn’t such a dream pregnancy then. I was sick just about every day.’

Joe wished he had been there but she hadn’t told him until she was twelve weeks along. He laid her hand on his thigh, moving his thumb over the back of her hand in slow soothing strokes. ‘I was going to contact you so many times after we slept together that night.’

A frown creased her smooth brow. ‘Were you? You never told me that before.’

Joe gave a wry half-smile. ‘We hadn’t exchanged numbers but I managed to find your details online because of your publishing career. I thought of emailing you numerous times, suggesting we meet up for a drink or something.’

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘You were still getting over your ex. I didn’t think you were ready to move on.’

She lowered her gaze and slipped her hand out of his hold and grasped the edge of the bedcovers. ‘I think I was over Harvey as soon as he told me he was in love with Clara. But you would’ve only been offering a fling back then, not something lasting.’ She issued it as a statement rather than a question.

Joe stood from the bed and looked down at her, unwilling to confirm or deny it. He had never felt the need to settle down with anyone long-term. He’d preferred to live in a world outside permanent attachment. A safe world. A world where he couldn’t hurt or be hurt in return. ‘Try and get some sleep, cara. Goodnight.’

Juliette listened while Joe had a shower in the bathroom. She tried to stop her mind filling with images of him under the hot spray of water, tried to stop thinking of the times she had shared a shower with him in the past. The blistering passion, the drumming need, the explosive orgasms.

She groaned under her breath and turned so her back was facing the bathroom, tucking her legs up close to her torso and squeezing her eyes shut. She waited for him to join her in the bed, waited for the familiar press of his weight down on the mattress, her senses so alert she knew it would be impossible to settle into sleep. She opened her eyes and saw the medication next to her glass of water. She sat up, pressed one out of the blister packet and swallowed it down with a gulp of water.

She lay back down and waited for the slow but inexorable drag down into mindless slumber…

CHAPTER SIX

JULIETTE DIDN’T KNOW how long she had been asleep when she woke. It was still dark except for a beam of silvery moonlight peeping through a gap in the curtains, illuminating the bed…the half empty bed. She sat up and pushed her hair away from her face and frowned at the vacant space beside her. The pillows were undented, the sheets smooth, showing no sign Joe had even momentarily lain down beside her.

A perverse sense of pique washed over her. Why hadn’t he slept beside her? Did he find her repulsive? Was he worried she might cross to his side of the bed? She pushed off the bedcovers and, ignoring the bathrobe laid over the chair, padded through to the sitting room area.

Joe was sitting in a slumped position on the sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his head on one side, his eyes closed in a deep sleep. He was naked except for a bath towel anchored around his lean hips.

Juliette knew she should tiptoe back to bed. Knew she shouldn’t feel a smidgeon of compassion for him for having spent an uncomfortable night sleeping upright. Knew she had no right to stare at his tanned athletic body bathed in moonlight, making him look like a Greek god rather than human. But her feet seemed to be anchored to the floor, her eyes drawn to him with the force of an industrial-sized magnet.

She wasn’t aware of making a sound but suddenly his eyes opened and he blinked and sat upright, scraping a hand through his already tousled hair.

‘Was I snoring?’ he asked with a grimace.

‘No. Is that a new habit you’ve acquired since we…?’ She left the sentence hanging but couldn’t explain why. He’d told her there’d been no one else since she’d left but one day there would be. That was something she didn’t want to think about too closely. Someone else in his life. In his bed. In his arms. Experiencing the mind-blowing passion she missed to this day.

Joe drew his legs to a right-angled position, leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. ‘Not that I know of.’

There was a moment of silence. A silence so loaded the air seemed to be weighted, making it hard for Juliette to breathe.

‘Why didn’t you sleep in the bed?’

Joe lifted his head to look at her, his eyes so dark they could have been black holes in space. ‘I didn’t want to disturb you. You looked like you needed your sleep.’ His voice had a rough edge that made something in her belly lose its footing.

Juliette rolled her lips together and came a little closer, drawn to him as if her body had a will of its own. ‘Joe…it’s okay if you want to share the bed. Really, we’re both mature adults and—’

‘It’s fine. I got a couple of hours. It’s all I need.’ He rose from the sofa, securing the towel around his hips, and walked over to the windows, pushing the curtains further aside to look at the moonlit view.

She couldn’t take her eyes off the sculpted perfection of his back and shoulder muscles, taut buttocks and his long strong thighs and calves below the hip-height towel. Just knowing he was naked under that towel was enough to send her female hormones into a cheerleading routine. Sensations stirred low in her body—sensual, erotic memories of his thick, hard presence moving within her.

Joe turned from the window and brushed his hair back from his forehead. ‘Go back to bed, Juliette.’ His tone was part stern authority and part growing impatience.

Juliette took a step towards him. ‘Joe…’

He closed the distance between them and placed his hands on the tops of her shoulders. The warmth of his fingers seeped into her flesh, awakening needs and desires she wasn’t sure she could control. His hooded eyes drifted to her mouth, his breath hitching, his body so close her breasts brushed against his chest. The smooth satin of her shortie pyjamas couldn’t hide her body’s reaction to him. She could feel the tensing of her nipples, the spreading tingles in her breasts, the smouldering heat in her core.

His hand cupped one side of her face, his thumb moving across her cheek like the arm of a slow-beating metronome. ‘Kissing you would be the easy part. Stopping at one kiss, however, would be something else.’ His voice was so rough it sounded as if he’d been gargling with gravel.

Juliette’s gaze lowered to his sensually shaped lips and something in her stomach fell off a high shelf. ‘Who said I wanted you to kiss me?’ Her voice was too breathy to relay the cool indifference she’d aimed for.

One side of his mouth tipped up in a crooked smile that did serious damage to her resolve to resist him. His thumb stroked across her lower lip, back and forth in a mesmerising, spine-tingling rhythm. ‘When I arrived here this weekend I was so determined I wasn’t going to do this.’

Juliette hadn’t realised she’d moved until she found herself flush against him, the hard jut of his hips, the proud rise of his male flesh setting her body on fire. ‘Do what?’ Her voice was so soft it could barely be called a whisper.

‘You know exactly what.’ And his mouth came down and covered hers.

Juliette knew she should have pulled away right then. She should have stopped it from going any further. She shouldn’t have allowed herself to be tempted, much less give into it. But as soon as his lips met hers, something hard and tight and bitter inside her collapsed like a house of cards. His lips moved against hers in an exploratory fashion, as if he was reminding himself of her contours, her taste, her texture. She groaned and opened to him and his tongue met hers in an erotic dance that made the hairs on the back of her neck tingle and the base of her spine fizz.

Her hands moved from his chest to link around his neck, her fingers playing with the thick black strands of his hair. He made a low growling sound deep in his throat and changed position, deepening the kiss until the bones in her legs threatened to melt like candlewax in a cauldron.

Joe’s hands framed her face, his breathing almost as hectic as hers. After long breathless moments he lifted his mouth off hers, gazing down at her for an infinitesimal pause before sealing her lips once more with a softly muttered curse, as if he too hated himself for his weakness where she was concerned.

One of his hands left her face and went to the small of her back, pressing her closer to the tantalising ridge of his male flesh. His other hand went to the nape of her neck, his long fingers splayed into the tingling roots of her hair. Shivers coursed up and down her back, her inner core hosting a welcome party, darts of pleasure shooting between her legs.

Joe lifted his mouth off hers and placed his hands on her hips, stepping back from her a fraction. ‘I think it might be time to stop.’ Something in his tone belied his words—the gruffness, the rueful note, the chord of longing so low she might have missed it if she hadn’t been feeling it herself.

Stop? Now?

When her body was screaming for the release it craved? And why the hell hadn’t she been the one to stop this madness? She felt hot shame flushing into her face and she shoved his hands off her hips and stepped further back, chest heaving as if she were an affronted heroine in a period drama. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at, kissing me like that?’

One of his ink-black eyebrows rose in a sardonic arc. ‘I could ask you the same question.’

Juliette couldn’t hold his gaze and swung away. ‘I’m going to have a shower. It’ll soon be time to get up and get ready for the wedding anyway.’ She strode into the bathroom and locked the door, leaning back against it with a ragged sigh. Why had she allowed him to prove how weak she was? How vulnerable to his touch? How lacking in immunity?

How dangerously ambiguous her feelings…

The wedding was to be held in the morning on the beach. Somehow Juliette had managed to shower and dress without running into Joe. He had left the suite while she was in the shower, and because she was heading to Lucy’s room for a hair and make-up session with the other bridesmaids she didn’t expect to see him again until the ceremony.

Lucy handed Juliette a glass of champagne on arrival. ‘Get that into you. Now, tell me how last night went. Did you guys kiss and make up?’

Juliette took the champagne but decided against taking anything but a token sip. ‘Let’s talk about you, not me. Are you nervous?’

Lucy beamed. ‘Me? Nervous? I can’t wait to marry Damon.’ Her smile dimmed a little. ‘I just wish things were better between you and Joe. Are you sure there’s no hope of a reconciliation?’

‘It’s not what either of us wants.’

‘Are you sure about that? I saw the way he was watching you last night. He could barely take his eyes off you. And when you two were dancing, well, anyone would have thought you were—’

‘We’re not.’ Juliette’s tone was emphatic. She opened the long narrow box that contained Lucy’s hand-embroidered veil. ‘He slept on the sofa.’

‘Oh…’

Juliette turned to look at her friend. ‘I don’t want your wedding to be spoilt by my dramas with Joe.’ She painted a bright smile on her face. ‘Now, let’s get you ready to marry the man of your dreams. Your dress looks amazing, by the way.’

Lucy twirled this way and that in her voluminous tulle and satin dress. It made her mixed-race complexion look all the more stunning. ‘You don’t think I look too much like a meringue?’ There was a dancing light in her eyes. ‘It was a toss-up between this one and the figure-hugging one we looked at together in Mayfair but I’ve always wanted to be a princess for a day.’

‘You look exactly like a princess,’ Juliette said, trying to ignore a tiny jab of envy. ‘A princess in love.’

Joe stood next to Damon under the canopy of tropical flowers that had been set up on the beach. He was trying not to think of his own wedding, how different it was from this one. If he and Juliette had married in a more relaxed and informal setting, would it have helped? His goal had been to get married to her as soon as possible for the sake of the baby. The cold and austere village church where generations of her family had been christened, wed or buried would not have been his first choice. But he had wanted Juliette to feel supported by her family, given he had none to speak of.

Damon nudged him. ‘Here they come.’

Joe turned and saw Juliette leading the way up the flower-strewn red carpet that had been laid down on the sand. She was dressed in a deep blue satin dress the colour of the ocean that pulsed nearby. The dress clung to her body like a slinky glove, outlining the gentle swell of her hips, the narrow waist, the slight globes of her breasts. There was a garland of flowers in her hair, giving her an A Midsummer Night’s Dream, almost ethereal look. His chest tightened, his breath stalled, his guilt throbbed. He had failed her in so many ways. He had made promises to love and protect her but he had failed on both counts. Romantic love was something he had never committed to. He doubted it even existed except perhaps in rare cases.

It had certainly never existed for him.

But seeing Juliette walking towards him now, something shifted in his chest. A slippage. A softening. A tightly locked space slowly opening…

He snapped it shut. Bang. Bolted the door.

He was comforted by the all too familiar jolt of his emotions shutting down. It was safer not to feel too deeply. To leave stray feelings unexplored. To deny them access through the firewall of his control tower.

Juliette met his gaze and a tremulous smile formed on her lips. The soft lips he had kissed early that morning and only just managed to stop kissing before he lost control. Kissing her made him realise how dangerous it was to be around her. It made him want her. Need her. Crave her. But how could he hope for a rerun of their relationship? What right did he have to insist on a second chance? It would only cause more pain, more heartache. It was practically his brand—projecting pain, heartache and loss onto the people he cared about. It was better he didn’t care. It was better he didn’t want. It was better not to hope.

Her gaze moved away and a sense of disappointment sank in his stomach like a stone.

Her smile was for the crowd, for appearances’ sake.

It wasn’t for him.

Juliette couldn’t look at Joe without blushing over their kiss that morning. She couldn’t look at him and not think about their own wedding. Their cold and duty-bound wedding where the promises he made had meant nothing.

But had hers meant something? Anything? Juliette gave an inward frown, wondering why her conscience was bringing this up now. She hadn’t been the one to insist on marriage. She had done the right thing in telling him he was to be a father, to give him the option of being involved or not. She could have refused his offer… Why hadn’t she?

Juliette stood to one side of Lucy and Damon as they exchanged their vows. Both had tears shining in their eyes, their love for each other plain to see. She glanced at Joe to find his gaze trained on her, his expression grave. She bit her lip and looked away again, her heart feeling as if squeezed by an invisible hand.

Maybe she had judged Joe too quickly. Hadn’t her parents always complained about her impulsive nature? Her tendency to act first, ask questions later had often caused her to regret her actions in hindsight. She had not only not asked Joe the questions, she hadn’t even allowed him to contact her. She had blocked him at every turn.

It was excruciatingly painful to confront her role in the breakup of their relationship. Would she be making a huge mistake in pursuing a divorce? But how could their marriage continue if Joe didn’t love her?

The newly married couple kissed and the guests clapped and cheered and again Juliette was reminded of the brief kiss Joe had given her at their wedding, and the less than enthusiastic applause from the handful of guests, her parents in particular.

After Lucy and Damon’s official photos were taken further along on the beach, the mostly informal and relaxed reception was held in the villa’s ballroom overlooking the beach.

Juliette got up to dance with three of the other groomsmen to avoid dancing with Joe. She was worried she would betray herself in his arms, reveal things about herself she knew she shouldn’t be feeling while she had divorce papers to hand to him. Dance after dance, drink after drink, she worked the room as if she had graduated as star pupil at Social Butterfly school. But inside she was shrivelling up, struggling to cope with pretending to be happy. One of the guests—another cousin of Damon’s—was heavily pregnant and every time Juliette looked at her she felt a hammer-blow of sadness crash over her.

Juliette took yet another glass of champagne off a passing waiter and turned to find Joe standing beside her.

‘Is that a good idea?’ He nodded towards her glass, his expression brooding.

She arched her brows. ‘Since when did you join the Temperance Society?’

He took the glass out of her hand and placed it on a nearby table. ‘I think you’ve had enough.’

‘I think you need to back off,’ Juliette said, glowering at him. ‘Just because you’re not having a good time doesn’t mean I can’t.’

‘Are you having a good time?’ His gaze was as pointed as his tone. But then he released a heavy breath and added with a frown, ‘You’re pretending, just like I am. But doing a much better job of it than me.’

Some of Juliette’s anger faded. She couldn’t explain why—it just slumped inside her like a windless sail. ‘It’s a form of torture, isn’t it? Watching other people being happy.’

‘Sì.’

Juliette tried to read his expression but it was like trying to read a cryptic code. Or maybe it was because her head was starting to pound from all the champagne she’d consumed. Or maybe it was because she knew she was getting closer to the moment when she would hand Joe the divorce papers. She couldn’t allow her defences to let her down now. She had come on a mission to get those papers signed. One kiss did not a reconciliation make. She pinched the bridge of her nose and winced. ‘I think I need to go to bed. Do you think Lucy and Damon would be offended if I slipped away now before they leave?’

Joe glanced to where the happy couple were dancing cheek to cheek. ‘No. I don’t think they’ll mind. Come on—’ he held out his hand ‘—I’ll walk you back to our room.’

Joe led Juliette back to their room. Their room. One last night suffering the torture of having her close enough to touch. Close enough to remember the potent magic that brought them together in the first place. Close enough to regret how he had handled every step, every stage of their relationship. Close enough to wonder if there was a chance—a slim chance—she would consider trying again.

The idea crept into his head and looked around for a place to get comfortable, pushing his conscience, his fears, his doubts out of the way. He wasn’t imagining the chemistry still between them, was he? It was as strong and pulsing as ever. Their kiss had proven how strong their connection still was.

How could he forgive himself for not at least exploring the possibility of reconciling?

Joe closed the door of their room but he realised immediately his timing was way off. Not only was there a fold-out bed set up in the sitting room area but Juliette looked tense and on edge. Her teeth chewed at her lip, her eyes not quite meeting his.

‘Are you okay?’

She nodded and sat on the sofa and held a scatter cushion against her body like a shield. ‘I will be. I just need a glass of water.’

Joe fetched her one and brought it back to where she was sitting. She took the glass from him, guzzled down the water and then handed the glass back. ‘Thanks.’

‘Another one?’

‘Not right now…’ She tossed the cushion aside and reached for her phone in her purse and switched it off silent. ‘I forgot I promised I’d send my mother a picture of Lucy and Damon.’ She clicked the necessary keys and the sound of the message pinging through cyberspace filled the silence. She continued to look at her phone, her forehead wrinkling in a frown. ‘Joe?’

‘Mmm?’

She lifted her head to look at him with a puzzled expression. ‘This email here that just popped into my inbox. Is it spam? It says you and I have been nominated for some sort of fundraising award. It says we’re Fundraising Couple of the Year.’ She held the screen up for him to inspect.

Joe leaned down to read the email, and then straightened to take out his phone and clicked on his own emails. He was copied into the same email she had received. What sort of twisted irony was that? Couple of the Year? They were no longer a couple. He slipped his phone back in his pocket. ‘No, it’s not spam. Remember I told you I’d donated on your behalf? And raised funds through various other means. I sent you emails about it but you chose not to read them. There’s a fundraising dinner in Paris next month. We’ve been invited to go and—’

Juliette sprang off the sofa as if one of the springs had poked her. ‘Are you out of your mind? I’m not going to Paris with you. It’s completely out of the question. Everyone will think we’re still together.’

‘So, what if they do?’

‘We’re not together, Joe.’ A stubborn edge came into her voice, her grey-blue eyes steely. ‘Just because we’ve shared a room this weekend doesn’t mean anything.’

Joe took a deep breath. No way was he going to that fundraiser without her. It was the perfect opportunity to spend more time with her. This weekend wasn’t enough. How could it ever be enough when he wanted her this badly? ‘Juliette. This is not about us. It’s about helping others who experience what we went through. If we don’t show up as a united couple, then how will it look?’

Her expression tightened. ‘It will look exactly as it is. We. Are. Separated.’ The emphasis on each word was like three punches to his gut. She went over to her tote bag in the corner of the room and pulled out some papers and came back to thrust them at him. ‘Here. I’ve been saving these for now.’

Joe’s gaze narrowed as he saw what it was. Legal papers. Divorce papers. A pain spread like fire through his chest, searing through flesh, pulverising bone, taking away his breath.

So, his time in limbo was over.

Juliette had already made up her mind. She had come to their friends’ wedding with divorce papers for him to sign. It was over. No sequel. No reruns.

The End.

A streak of stubbornness steeled his spine and his gaze. Their marriage would end on his say-so, not hers. No way was he signing divorce papers at his best mate’s wedding weekend. He took the papers off her and tossed them onto the seat of the sofa as if they were nothing more than yesterday’s newspaper. ‘I’ll sign those when I’m good and ready. Come to Paris with me and then I’ll give you a divorce.’

Her chin came up and her eyes flashed. ‘You’re blackmailing me?’

He gave a grating laugh. ‘Damn right I am. What were you thinking, bringing those to your best friend’s wedding? I thought you had more class.’

She picked up the legal papers and carefully fed them back inside the envelope. Her movements were calm and controlled but he could see the effort it cost her. Her jaw was tight, her mouth pressed flat, her anger a palpable presence in the room. She put the envelope back in her tote bag and faced him with fire and ice in her gaze. ‘We’ll discuss this again in the morning. I have a headache and don’t want to argue with you right now.’

Joe locked his gaze on hers, his own anger stiffening his spine. Anger so thick and throbbing he could feel it pulsing in his veins like a thousand pummelling fists. ‘You’ll hear the same thing from me in the morning. I will not sign those papers until I’m good and ready. End of.’ He turned and walked out of the suite and closed the door behind him as firmly as a punctuation mark.

Juliette winced as the door shut behind him. She let out a ragged breath. That went well. She tugged at the pins holding her hair up and shook her head to loosen the strands. It didn’t help her headache, nor did the thought of confronting Joe again with the divorce papers. Why was he being so stubborn and obstructive? Hadn’t he said being together again was the last thing he wanted? Or was he interested in a little affair with her until after Paris? She couldn’t allow herself to be used in such a way. She wouldn’t allow herself to be exposed to more hurt when he failed to support her in the way she wanted. Needed. He was all for helping others in their situation, but what about helping her? Supporting her?

When Juliette woke the next morning, after a fitful sleep, she found a note propped up on the bedside table, written in Joe’s distinctive handwriting.

See you in Paris,

Joe.

She glanced around the room. His luggage was gone. There was no trace of him in the suite. It was as if he had never been there with her.

Isn’t that the truth?

She gritted her teeth and scrunched the note up in a ball and threw it at the nearest wall. ‘I’ll see you in hell first.’

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