The Husband She'd Never Met. Barbara Hannay

a while.’

      To Carrie’s astonishment, he stepped forward and smacked kisses on both her cheeks.

      ‘Hey, Jacko,’ Max responded, giving the waiter a hearty handshake and back-slap. ‘Good to see you.’

      ‘And it’s great to see you two. How are you both?’

      Carrie gulped, wondering how well she knew this fellow and how much she should tell him.

      ‘We’re really well, thanks,’ Max said smoothly. ‘It’s been a good wet season, which always helps.’

      Jacko nodded, then shot a quick glance to a table right next to the water. ‘Must have known you two were coming. Your favourite table’s free.’

      ‘How’s that for timing?’ Max was grinning as they took their seats.

      Carrie hoped that her smile didn’t look too surprised as Jacko flicked out a starched napkin and deftly placed it, unfolded, on her lap.

      ‘Shall I fetch menus?’ he asked with a knowing smile. ‘Or would you just like your usual?’

      Their usual? Carrie knew she must look stunned and confused. She shot a quick look to Max, who sent her a reassuring smile.

      ‘Our usual, of course. We can’t break with tradition,’ he told Jacko.

      Carrie was shaking her head as Jacko left. ‘Don’t tell me I picked our favourite restaurant?’

      Max smiled again, and his blue eyes shone in a way that set off another starburst inside her. ‘It was uncanny,’ he said. ‘There are half a dozen places along this strand, but you zeroed straight in on this place, like it was the only possible option.’

      ‘I have no memory of ever coming here.’

      ‘Perhaps your taste buds remember?’

      And there it was again...the disturbing possibility that her body remembered the secrets her mind withheld.

      Carrie took a deep breath. ‘So, what’s my usual breakfast order when I’m here?’

      ‘Pancakes.’

      ‘Really?’ She gaped at him. ‘But I—I thought... I’ve always been so careful with carbs.’

      ‘Paris cured you of that,’ Max assured her. ‘Whenever you eat here you always have blueberry pancakes and whipped cream.’

      * * *

      Walking back along the foreshore, on a path that wove between lush tropical gardens, Max had an urge to take Carrie’s hand or to slip his arm around her shoulders, just as he always had in the past.

      It was tempting to ignore the letter she’d written, claiming she’d grown tired of life in the bush. Damn tempting to take advantage of this situation. To simply carry on as if their marriage was fine.

      He knew the chemistry was still there. More than once he’d caught Carrie checking him out, and he’d seen the familiar flash of interest and awareness in her eyes.

      ‘Max?’ She turned to him now, and her lovely dark brown eyes held a hint of excitement. ‘How long does it take to drive to your place?’

      Caught out, he frowned. ‘My place?’

      ‘Your property. Riverslea Downs.’

      ‘About six hours. Why?’