sweet floral scent, her warmth. Wished he didn’t have to let her go. Then she pulled away. Looked up at him. Her cheeks were flushed pink, which intensified the blue of her eyes.
‘I’ve been in Montovia for a week. I fly out to Sydney tomorrow morning. I won’t see you again,’ she said.
‘I have meetings in Zurich,’ he said. ‘I’ll be gone very early.’
‘So...so this is goodbye,’ she said.
He put his fingers to the soft lushness of her mouth. ‘Until next time,’ he said.
For a long moment she looked up at him, searching his face with those remarkable eyes. Then she nodded. ‘Until next time.’
Without another word Eliza turned away from him and walked away down the long enclosed terrace that ran along the outside of the ballroom. She did not turn back.
Jake watched her. Her back was held erect, the full skirts of her deep blue dress with its elaborately beaded bodice nipped into her tiny waist swishing around her at each step. He watched her until she turned to the right through an archway. Still she didn’t look back, although he had his hand ready to wave farewell to her. Then she disappeared out of sight.
She left behind her just the lingering trace of her scent. He breathed it in to capture its essence. Took a step to go after her, then halted himself. He had no right to call her back a second time. He groaned and slammed his hand against the ancient stone wall.
For a long time he looked out through the window to the still lake beyond. Then he looked back to the ballroom. Without Eliza to dance with there was no point in returning. Besides, he felt like an impostor among the glittering throng. His role as best man, as friend to the Prince, gave him an entrée to their world. His multi-million-dollar houses and string of prestige European cars made him look the part.
Would they welcome him so readily into their elite company if they knew the truth about his past? Would Eliza find him so appealing if she knew his secrets?
He took out his phone and made his business call, in desperate need of distraction.
Six months later
ELIZA NOTICED JAKE MARLOWE the instant he strode into the business class lounge at Sydney’s Kingsford Smith Airport. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a surfer’s blond hair and tan, his good looks alone would attract attention. The fact that he was a billionaire whose handsome face was often in the media guaranteed it. Heads turned discreetly as he made his way with his easy, athletic stride towards the coffee station.
He was half a room away from her, but awareness tingled down Eliza’s spine. A flush of humiliation warmed her cheeks. She hadn’t seen him or heard from him since the wedding in Montovia, despite his promise to get in touch when his divorce was through. And here he was—on his way out of Sydney.
Jake had been in her hometown for heaven knew how long and hadn’t cared to get in touch. She thought of a few choice names for him but wouldn’t let herself mutter them, even under her breath. Losing her dignity over him was not worth it.
Over the last months she’d gone past disappointed, through angry, to just plain embarrassed that she’d believed him. That she’d allowed herself to spin hopes and dreams around seeing him again—finally being able to act on that flare of attraction between them. An attraction that, despite her best efforts to talk herself out of it, had flamed right back to life at the sight of him. She’d failed dismally in her efforts to extinguish it. He looked just as good in faded jeans and black T-shirt as he looked in a tuxedo. Better, perhaps. Every hot hunk sensor in her body alerted her to that.
But good looks weren’t everything. She’d kidded herself that Jake was something he wasn’t. Sure, they’d shared some interesting conversations, come close to a kiss. But when it boiled down to it, it appeared he was a slick tycoon who’d known how to spin the words he’d thought would please her. And she’d been sucker enough to fall for it. Had there been anything genuine about him?
Jake had put her through agony by not getting in touch when he’d said he would. She never wanted that kind of emotional turmoil in her life again. Especially not now, when Party Queens was in possible peril. She needed all her wits about her to ensure the future of the company that had become her life.
Perhaps back then she’d been convenient for Jake—the bridesmaid paired with the best man. An instant temporary couple. Now he was single and oh-so-eligible he must have women flinging themselves at him from all sides. Even now, as she sneaked surreptitious glances at him, a well-dressed woman edged up close to him, smiling up into his face.
Jake laughed at something she said. Eliza’s senses jolted into hyper mode. He looked so handsome when he laughed. Heck, he looked so handsome whatever he did.
Darn her pesky libido. Her brain could analyse exactly what she didn’t want in a man, but then her body argued an opposing message. She’d let her libido take over at Gemma’s wedding, when she’d danced with Jake and let herself indulge in a fantasy that there could be something between them one day. But she prided herself on her self-control. Eliza allowed herself a moment to let her eyes feast on him, in the same way she would a mouthwatering treat she craved but was forbidden to have. Then she ducked her head and hid behind the pale pink pages of her favourite financial newspaper.
Perhaps she hadn’t ducked fast enough—perhaps she hadn’t masked the hunger in her gaze as successfully as she’d thought. Or perhaps Jake had noticed her when he came in as readily as she had noticed him.
Just moments later she was aware of him standing in front of her, legs braced in a way that suggested he wasn’t going anywhere. Her heart started to thud at a million miles an hour. As she lowered the newspaper and looked up at him she feigned surprise. But the expression in his green eyes told her she hadn’t fooled him one little bit.
She gathered all her resolve to school her face into a mask of polite indifference. He could not know how much he’d hurt her. Not hurt. That gave him too much power. Offended. His divorce had been splashed all over the media for the last three months. Yet there’d been no phone call from him. What a fool she’d been to have expected one. She’d obviously read way too much into that memorable ‘next time’ farewell.
Eliza went to get up but he sat down in the vacant seat next to her and angled his body towards her. In doing so he brushed his knee against her thigh, and she tried desperately not to gasp at his touch. Her famed self-control seemed to wobble every which way when she found herself within touching distance of Jake Marlowe.
He rested his hands on his thighs, which brought them too close for comfort. She refused to let herself think about how good they’d felt on her body in that close embrace of their dance. She could not let herself be blinded by physical attraction to the reality of this man.
‘Eliza,’ he said.
‘Jake,’ she said coolly, with a nod of acknowledgment.
She crossed her legs to break contact with his. Made a show of folding her newspaper, its rustle satisfyingly loud in the silence between them.
There was a long, awkward pause. She had no intention of helping him out by being the first one to dive into conversation. Not when he’d treated her with such indifference. Surely the thread of friendship they’d established had entitled her to better.
She could see he was looking for the right words, and at any other time she might have felt sorry for this intelligent, successful man who appeared to be struggling to make conversation. Would have fed him words to make it easier for him. But she knew how articulate Jake could be. How he had charmed her. This sudden shyness must be all part of his game. It seemed he felt stymied at seeing her by accident when he’d so obviously not wanted to see her by intent.
She really should hold her tongue and let him stumble through whatever he had to say. But she knew there wasn’t much time before her flight would be called. And this might be her only chance to call him on the way he