how nervous she felt. She shot a glance at the clock on the bedside table and felt her heart surge. In just under an hour’s time she would see Ben.
Ben parked his car in the hotel’s car park. Opening the door of the sleek little convertible, he eased his legs out from under the wheel, sighing when he saw the mud that was caked on the knees of his jeans. He really should have changed before he’d come here. Normally, he would have done so, but he wasn’t firing on all cylinders today and was it any wonder?
When he’d seen Zoë’s name on that guest list Ross had given him that morning, he’d had the devil of a job hiding his shock. He had never expected her to attend the wedding even though he knew that Heather and Ross were her closest friends. He had assumed that she would make some excuse, but obviously not. Why had she decided to come? he wondered. Was it just because she wanted to see her friends get married or was there another reason, one that had something to do with him?
Ben swore under his breath as he made his way into the hotel. Zoë had made her feelings perfectly clear two years ago and it was madness to imagine that she’d changed her mind. He wouldn’t want her to either. He’d learned a valuable lesson when she’d left him and he had no intention of placing himself in the position of having his heart trampled on a second time. Maybe he had believed in love once upon a time but he didn’t believe in it now. Zoë had cured him of that kind of misty-eyed thinking!
Walking over to the reception desk, Ben joined the queue and waited his turn to speak to the receptionist. There were a lot of people milling about and he guessed that most of them were wedding guests too. He sighed. A lot of folk were going to be upset by what had happened.
The lift bell pinged as the lift arrived at the ground floor and Ben automatically glanced round, then felt his breath catch when he saw the woman who alighted. Tall and slender, with her red-gold hair pulled smoothly back from her face, she drew many admiring glances. Ben knew that he was staring at her, but he couldn’t help it. She looked exactly the same in many ways and yet so very different in others.
He took rapid stock, trying to work out what had changed. There was no doubt that the honey-coloured suit she was wearing was expensive. The cut of the fabric hinted at expert tailoring of a type rarely seen in chain-store clothing. Her shoes—the sexiest pair of shoes he had ever seen with those wickedly high heels—also betrayed their pedigree, as did the matching bag that swung from her hand. She looked so cool, so poised, so sophisticated that Ben felt pain stab through his heart. Obviously, Zoë had lost no time encasing herself in yet another protective layer.
She was halfway across the foyer when she spotted him. Ben took a deep breath when he saw her stop and got a grip of himself. He had come here to break the news to her and the sooner he got it over with, the better. Stepping out of the queue, he headed towards her, fixing his most urbane smile into place as he drew closer. He may have loved Zoë once but that was all in the past. Their relationship was history now and he’d moved on…
Hadn’t he?
Ben clamped down on that thought as he greeted her. ‘Hello, Zoë. How are you? Although I doubt if I need to ask that when you’re looking so stunning.’
His tone was playful, the one he used whenever he was around any attractive woman. Most seemed to enjoy the hint of flirtatiousness in his voice, the suggestion that there might be something more to come, although Zoë obviously didn’t appreciate it.
‘I’m very well, thank you, Ben. How are you?’
Her deep grey eyes looked dispassionately back at him but Ben held his smile, determined not to let her see how discomfited he felt. ‘Great. Or as great as I can be in the circumstances.’
‘That sounds very cryptic.’ One elegant brow arched as she looked at him and Ben sighed. He was here to deliver a message, not to pander to his ego by playing silly games.
‘I didn’t intend it to. Sorry. I’m afraid I have some rather bad news, Zoë.’ Glancing around, he spotted a couple of chairs in an alcove by the window and nodded towards them. ‘Let’s sit down over there, shall we?’
Zoë looked sharply at him but she didn’t demur. Walking over to the chairs, she sat down, smoothing her skirt over her knees. Ben caught a tantalising glimpse of her elegant legs encased in whisper-fine stockings and hastily averted his eyes. Zoë had always hated going out with bare legs—she preferred to wear stockings instead. He’d watched her put them on many times and enjoyed the experience too.
He gritted his teeth as an image of her drawing the fine silk over her shapely calves flashed into his head. This was dangerous territory and he refused to go there, especially today.
‘What’s this all about, Ben? What sort of bad news do you have to tell me?’
Her tone was sharp; it cut through his thoughts and helped him focus. Leaning forward, he fixed her with a level look. ‘The wedding has been called off.’
‘Called off?’ She stared at him in disbelief. ‘If this is a joke, Ben, I really don’t appreciate it.’
She went to rise but he caught hold of her hand and stopped her. ‘It isn’t a joke, Zoë. I wouldn’t joke about something like this.’
She had the grace to look momentarily uncomfortable before she rallied. Sinking back down onto the chair, she eased her hand out of his grasp. ‘I apologise. So tell me what’s happened.’
Ben shrugged, needing a little more time to regain his own composure. The feel of her slender fingers had released a whole raft of emotions he hadn’t been prepared for. If he’d moved on, as he’d thought, why was his heart thumping as though it was trying to leap out of his chest? He’d held her hand, for heaven’s sake, not made mad, passionate love to her!
‘Heather called it off,’ he explained, closing his mind to any more foolish ideas of that nature. He refused to torment himself by recalling how good it had been when he and Zoë had made love. ‘She told Ross that she’d decided it would be a mistake if they got married.’
‘A mistake?’ Zoë’s brow wrinkled. ‘But they’re perfect for each other. Anyone can see that.’
‘Well, apparently, anyone would be wrong.’ Ben sighed when he saw her face close up. ‘I don’t mean to sound facetious but I was as stunned as you are when Ross told me. In fact, I’m still trying to take it in. I was all geared up to do my best man bit when I woke up this morning, but it seems my services won’t be needed after all.’
‘Is that why you’re dressed like that?’ Zoë glanced down at his jeans, her nose wrinkling in distaste as she took stock of the crust of mud that adorned them, and he chuckled.
‘It wasn’t a deliberate choice because I was peeved about not getting to read my speech, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
A tiny smile twitched the corners of her beautiful mouth. ‘I’m glad to hear it. It would seem a little extreme.’
Her eyes rose to his and his breath caught when he saw the warmth they held. It had been so long since Zoë had looked at him this way. In the last painful weeks of their relationship all they’d done was argue. There’d been no warmth then, no fun, no closeness, just a determination on both sides to get their own way. All of a sudden Ben regretted how he’d behaved, regretted pushing her to accept how he’d felt. No wonder she had run away when he’d put her under so much pressure. Maybe he had loved her desperately but he should have tried to win her round in a different way.
Regrets tumbled around inside his head but it was too late for them now. At least he and Zoë were on speaking terms and that was something. ‘I ended up getting called out to an incident at the canal,’ he explained, hoping to solder their fragile truce. If there was one thing that Zoë truly cared about it was work— his job, her job, anything to do with medicine. ‘In fact, Ross went along as well, and the rest of the guys from the surgery. That accounts for my current less than sartorial look. It was extremely mucky down there.’
‘Good heavens!’ Zoë leant forward