testing, when it had been proved she didn’t have the mutated gene that sounded a death knell for her mum, she’d undergone counselling to get a grip on her rioting emotions: relief, guilt, happiness, fear. Yet for all these years, deep down where she hid her innermost fears, she hadn’t been able to shake the irrational dread that somehow those doctors had made a mistake and she’d contract the disease after all.
Crazy and illogical. The odds were in her favour to have perfectly healthy kids. But why tempt fate when it had dealt her such a rough hand so far?
‘The opportunity hasn’t come up?’
Surprised by his line of questioning, she eyeballed him. ‘If you’re asking if I’ve been in a serious relationship since Capri, no. I’ve dated. That’s about it.’
She half expected him to flinch at her bluntness in bringing up the past, but to his credit he didn’t look away.
‘Why?’
‘What is this? Pry into Callie’s soul day?’
She placed her coffee on the nearest table and her hands unexpectedly shook.
‘Callie, I—’
‘Sorry for snapping your head off, but if you’re hoping to hear I’ve been pining for you all these years, and that’s why I’m not involved in a serious relationship, you’re delusional.’
His eyes widened in horror. ‘Hell, that’s not what I want.’ He rubbed the back of his neck in a familiar gesture that added to the poignancy of the moment. ‘I just feel like we’ve been doing this avoidance dance, concentrating on work, making polite small talk, retreating to our rooms. Then I saw how you were with Izzy and it got me thinking...’
She shouldn’t ask. She really shouldn’t. ‘About?’
Yep, she was asking for it.
‘About why the beautiful, vibrant woman I met in Capri hasn’t been snapped up by some smart guy?’
A guy smarter than you? she wanted to say, but silently counted to five before she blurted it out.
‘Maybe I don’t want to be snapped up? Maybe I’m happy with my life the way it is?’
‘Are you?’
She stiffened as he reached out and traced a fingertip between her brows, eliciting a shiver.
‘Because you’ve got this little dent here that tells me otherwise.’
Touched he’d noticed, annoyed at his intuitiveness, she swatted his hand away. ‘How did you get so perceptive?’
‘Honestly?’
She picked up her coffee cup, cradled it, hiding behind it as she took a deep sip and nodded.
‘The way you lit up around Izzy was the same way you used to be in Capri. Carefree. Quick to laugh. Like nothing fazed you.’ He paused, as if searching her face for approval to continue. ‘At first I thought it was me and the way I treated you in the past that was bugging you. But it’s something else—something that runs deeper.’
He snaffled her hand and squeezed it before she could protest.
‘You know you can tell me, right?’
Uh-oh. Callie could handle teasing, charming Archer. She couldn’t handle this newer, sensitive version, who’d honed in on the emotional load she carried daily like an invisible yoke.
‘We should finish off the home page of the website—’
He gripped her hand tighter. ‘Tell me.’
‘Wow, you’re bossy.’ She blew out a long, slow breath, not wanting to do this but knowing he’d keep badgering until she did.
He’d been like that in Capri: badgering her to have dinner with him that first night; badgering her to stroll along the moonlit beach afterwards; badgering her with his loaded stares and sexy smiles and wicked ways.
Now, like then, she was powerless to resist.
‘It’s my mum. She has motor neurone disease.’
Shock widened his eyes and sadness twisted his mouth. ‘Aw, honey, I’m sorry.’
‘Me too,’ she said, gnawing on her bottom lip and willing the sudden sting of tears away.
She’d cried enough to fill the Tasman Sea but it didn’t change the facts. The horrid disease was eating away at her mum’s nervous system one neurone at a time.
‘There’s nothing they can do?’
She shook her head, grateful for the strong hold he had on her hand. She would have bolted for the sanctity of her room otherwise and not come out for the next few days.
‘They initially gave her three years. She’s lasted seven.’
Quick as ever he did the math, and understanding flickered in those aquamarine depths. ‘Did you find out soon after you got home from Europe?’
She nodded, remembering the far-reaching consequences of that diagnosis.
Despite the way they’d ended, would she have booked a flight to join Archer if her mum hadn’t fallen ill? Would her life have been filled with sunshine and sand and surf rather than a rented box-like office space? Would she have been blissfully unaware of the potential gene landmine pumping through her veins and had Archer’s kids?
Stupid thinking, considering Archer hadn’t wanted her back then, let alone a commitment that could lead to kids.
‘So she’s undergoing the usual rounds of physiotherapy and occupational therapy to keep her as mobile as possible?’
‘Yeah, though her muscle wastage is advancing pretty rapidly.’
How many times had she gently massaged those muscles in the hope they’d somehow miraculously regenerate? Too many. The sight of Nora wasting away before her eyes broke her heart.
‘She’s confined to a wheelchair, though the special home where she lives is fabulous in taking care of her.’
‘The staff in those facilities deserve a medal, considering the range of healthcare they provide.’
‘How come you know so much about it?’
‘I sponsored a charity benefit for Lou Gehrig’s disease in LA. Thought I’d better know something about it before rocking up to the shindig.’
Callie eyed him speculatively. Sportsmen around the world attended charity benefits, but she doubted many of them cared enough to delve into the details of the fundraiser’s disease.
‘Is there anything I can do?’
Touched he’d offered, she shook her head. ‘Thanks, but I’ve got it covered.’
At least she would have once she got paid for this surf school campaign. Which meant getting back to work, despite the urge to linger in this intimate cocoon where the guy she’d once loved seriously cared.
‘We should get back to work—’
‘Tomorrow,’ he said, scooting alongside her and draping an arm across her shoulders before she had a chance to move. ‘We’ve been pushing it pretty hard since we arrived yesterday. Let’s just chill tonight.’
Chilling sounded good, but sadly there was nothing cool about being snuggled in the crook of Archer’s shoulder. The opposite, with her body warming from the inside out until it felt as if her skin blistered.
She should move, should head inside and collate a few more ideas for the website’s link page. Instead she found herself slowly relaxing into him, wanting to savour this moment.
The irony of being cradled in Archer’s arms after she’d rammed home the fact that this week was just about business wasn’t lost on her. It felt good. Great, in fact. But temporary—a comforting hug from an ex. An