or else I might just end up with splinters in my butt.
Maddie shook her curls. ‘We’re not doing this, Cale. It’s been a long time, and too much has happened for us to go back there.’
‘I am sorry,’ Cale said, and she could see the frustration on his face. Did he really expect that a couple of apologies would make it all better? That he could snap his fingers and have her in his arms and his bed again?
Not going to happen.
Maddie lifted her eyebrows. ‘Sorry for what? Letting me down? Disappointing me? Kissing me?’
‘One and two. Kissing you, it turns out, is still an absolute pleasure.’ Cale raked his hand through his hair. ‘So, where to now?’
What? Was he insane?
Maddie summoned up her frostiest voice. ‘Nowhere! Cale, this is it. You carry on your merry way and I do the same.’
Cale snorted. ‘You’re not that naïve, Maddie.’
Maddie forced herself to step forward, to give him a patronising pat on the cheek. ‘I was never naïve, and you don’t know anything about me any more.’
‘I know that something shifted in my world when I saw you behind that bar tonight.’
Maddie felt her heart stutter. She didn’t like her heart stuttering—wasn’t used to it behaving badly.
‘And I don’t generally kiss a woman like that and let her walk away.’
Ooh, there was that legendary Grant arrogance again. Her eyes and her voice cooled. ‘There’s always a first time for everything. Goodbye, Cale.’
‘This isn’t finished, Madison.’
Maddie thought that silence was the best response to his statement, because in truth she had no idea how to reply to the words that terrified and annoyed her in equal measure.
Maddie treasured Sunday—her favourite day of the week. Most Sundays she’d pull on a bikini and a wetsuit, grab her surfboard, then head for the west coast and the big rolling waves that made the area north of Cape Town a surfers’ paradise.
Mid-morning, loose-limbed and hungry after skimming the waves, would find her at her favourite coffee shop in Scarborough, devouring the papers and scoffing poached eggs and hollandaise sauce, followed by croissants and strawberry jam.
And coffee—rich, aromatic, compelling. Just like the man walking across the packed room towards her table. This was more like the Cale she remembered: faded navy T-shirt, red board shorts and flip-flops.
She tipped her head and watched him as he stopped for a moment to talk to a fit-looking couple in the far corner. Dr Caleb Grant: consulting sports psychologist and life coach to several national teams, top sportsmen and women, sports writer, TV commentator and triathlon stroke adventure racer.
Unfortunately, due to that strong face and hot body, and the fact that he was rich and relentlessly single, he was also a favourite amongst the gossip columnists. One of, if not the most eligible bachelor in the city.
Good for him—but she wouldn’t let it affect her; she made it a personal policy never to make the same mistake twice.
Cale took the seat opposite her, took a sip of the coffee from her cup and snagged a piece of croissant with the familiarity of a current lover and not a blast from her past.
‘Order your own.’ Maddie slapped his fingers as they headed towards her plate again.
Cale, for once, listened and ordered an espresso and two croissants.
Maddie folded her paper and tucked it into her bag. Folding her arms, she tapped her foot. Squinting at him, she reacquainted herself with the object of her fantasies of the last week… and the last ten years. In daylight, she noticed the little things now: a couple of laughter lines, some strands of grey mingled with the streaky blond hair at his temples, and the high-tech watch on his wrist that could be the price of a new car. Well, not an entire car—maybe just a set of tyres. The sunglasses were top of the range too. Striking and successful, he’d become all the S’s she’d known he would.
Back then he’d had sardonic, sporty and sexy nailed. She could add super-successful and sophisticated to the list.
‘How did you find me?’
‘Easy. I went to your flat and your neighbour… Jim?… he told me that you spend most Sunday mornings here.’
‘You could’ve called.’
‘You neglected to give me your number.’ Cale whipped his BlackBerry out of his back pocket and looked at her enquiringly.
Maddie sighed, recited her number and handed over her mobile so that he could scan the barcode for her BlackBerry BBM. She’d never in a million years thought that she’d see Cale’s number in her phone again.
‘I can’t believe I’m letting you put your number in my phone.’
‘Was I that bad?’
‘Terrible. Have you improved?’ Maddie asked archly, openly curious.
‘Probably not as much as you’d hoped.’ Cale sat back as the waiter placed his coffee and croissants in front of him. ‘What about you? How long did you pine for me before you twisted the next guy up into a pretzel?’
‘About two seconds. Nearly as long as you spent missing me.’
‘Yeah, I really wish it had happened that way,’ Cale said, his eyes on his plate.
Maddie had opened her mouth to pursue the subject when her attention was distracted by the gaggle of young women who had entered the restaurant behind Cale, all wearing tops and shorts about three sizes too small for them. Maddie sourly wondered why they didn’t just go out in their underwear. They weren’t covering up much more.
Oh, man, she sounded just like a jealous old woman. Deciding it was a good time to take a bathroom break, she quickly excused herself. When she returned, she found one of the gaggle leaning over Cale’s shoulder as she watched him scrawl his signature on a paper napkin.
Please, shoot me now, she thought as she ambled back to her seat.
She sat down and waited till the girl had gone, then whispered, ‘That’s nice, dear, now run along and do your homework.’
Cale choked back his laughter.
‘Does that happen often?’ she asked Cale, horrified.
He shrugged. ‘Now and again.’
‘It would drive me nuts.’
‘You kind of get used to it. The trick is to remember that they don’t know you. They know the TV you. They don’t know that you hate going to sleep, or that you snore, or that you are allergic to peanuts.’ Cale took a sip of his espresso and lifted a broad shoulder in a shrug. ‘It keeps your head from getting too big.’
‘It’s already big,’ Maddie teased, mostly because he expected her to. She played with her teaspoon and decided to risk a personal question. ‘Why do you hate going to sleep?’
Cale bit the inside of his lip while he obviously debated what to say. Maddie was surprised when he gave her a real answer instead of responding frivolously.
‘The spooks come and get me.’
‘What?’
Cale sighed. ‘I normally delay going to bed until the early hours of the morning and then I can’t sleep anyway. The mind loves three a.m. The nastiest hour of the day.’ Cale toyed with a piece of croissant and smiled thinly. ‘Just because I’m a psychologist doesn’t mean that I don’t have my own demons to fight, Mad.’
Judging by the weariness that flashed in his eyes, she suspected that his demons were winning.
‘I can understand that,’ she replied, intrigued