The Australian Affairs Collection. Margaret Way
like that... ‘So that’s why Carla didn’t tell me who she really was when we first met.’
He nodded. ‘I’ve not been sure of any woman since Caitlin.’
Her mouth went dry. ‘The girl who broke your heart?’
‘The very one.’ He lifted his beer and drank deeply.
Leave it alone!
‘You said she couldn’t handle it when things got rough. Did she...?’ She frowned. ‘Did she dump you when you were in the middle of your grief for your parents?’
Pain briefly flashed in his eyes, and she went cold all over when he gave one curt nod.
She had to swallow before she could speak. ‘I’m sorry.’
He sent her a self-deprecating half-smile that made her want to cry. ‘I was head over heels for her. We’d been dating for two years. I had our lives all mapped out—finish uni, get married, see the world. I thought she was my rock. I wanted to be hers. I thought we were...not perfect—never that—but special.’ He shrugged. ‘I was a fool.’
The grief in his eyes caught at her. ‘You were so young, Dylan. You couldn’t possibly have known she wouldn’t last the distance. She probably didn’t know either.’
He turned his head, his gaze sharpening. ‘The thing is, I know you haven’t the slightest interest in my money or my name. Funny, isn’t it?’
‘Hilarious.’ She swallowed, understanding now, in a way she hadn’t earlier, how serious he was about not pursuing a relationship. The realisation should have been comforting. ‘But we both know we wouldn’t fit.’
He stared into his glass. ‘Building something worthwhile with someone is more than just being attracted to them.’
‘Very true.’ She wished her voice would emerge with more strength. ‘You need to have shared values...to want the same things from life.’
That wasn’t them.
He drained his beer. ‘Luckily for us we have our ground rules to keep us on the straight and narrow.’
Her heart thudded hard. ‘Amen.’
‘Are you ready to go?’
She started to nod and then broke off to fiddle with the collar of her shirt. ‘I have a problem.’
‘Tell me,’ he ordered. ‘Fixing problems is my specialty.’
‘Carla mentioned swimming and lounging by the pool. But the thing is... I don’t have a swimsuit.’
He stared at her, and then he smiled—really smiled. ‘That’s a problem that’s easily remedied.’
WHEN DYLAN PARKED the car at the shopping centre Mia removed her seat belt and turned fully to face him. ‘We’re not going to do the Pretty Woman thing in here, Dylan.’
He knew exactly what she meant and a secret fantasy—or not so secret, in this case—died a quick death.
He didn’t argue with her. He’d already forced her into too many situations that she hadn’t wanted this week.
He wanted to make her smile. Not frown.
He wanted to make her life a little bit easier. Not harder. And he had been making it harder. He couldn’t deny that.
Then walk away now. Leave her be.
The look on her face when Felipe had snapped that photograph of her... It burned through his soul now. He’d wanted to make it up to her. He’d wanted to make things right. Nothing before had ever stung him the way her rejection of his aid had done.
She heaved out a sigh. ‘Are we going to have to argue about this?’
He shook his head. ‘Tell me exactly what you want to have happen in there.’ He nodded towards the shops.
‘I want to walk into a budget chain store, select a pair of board shorts and a swim-shirt, and pay for them with my own money. I then want to leave.’
Precise and exact.
‘Can I make one small suggestion?’
She stared at him as if she didn’t trust him and it occurred to him that he didn’t blame her. His heavy-handed attempts to come to her defence last Tuesday hadn’t been entirely unselfish. He’d wanted that photo.
He’d taken one look at it and he’d wanted it for himself.
He couldn’t even explain why!
It was pointless denying his attraction to her, but he had no intention of falling for Mia. It would be a replay of his relationship with Caitlin all over again, and he’d learned his lesson the first time around.
It was just... Mia had got under his skin. He hated the way Thierry treated her. He hated the way Gordon treated her. He chafed at how hard her life was—at the unfairness of it. He wanted her to feel free to laugh the way she had in Felipe’s photograph.
It’s not your job to make her laugh.
Maybe not, but what harm would it do?
He shook himself, realising the pause in their conversation was in danger of becoming too charged.
‘It’s just a small suggestion.’
She pursed her lips. He did his best not to focus on their lushness, or the need that surged into his blood, clenching hard and tight about his groin. If he stared at them too long she’d know exactly where his thoughts had strayed, and that would be a disaster. For whatever reason, she was determined to ignore the attraction between them. Today he didn’t want to force her to face anything she didn’t want to face or do anything she didn’t want to do.
‘Okay.’ She hitched up her chin. ‘What’s this small suggestion?’
Her tone told him it had better be small. Or else. Her ‘or else’ might be interesting, but he resisted the temptation. Today was about making things easier for her.
‘I have it on pretty good authority that swim-shirts can chafe.’
She folded her arms, her lips twisting as if she thought he was spinning her a story.
‘So you might want to buy a one-piece suit to wear underneath. And, while shirts are great for avoiding sunburn, they don’t protect your face, arms and legs, so you might consider adding sunscreen to your shopping list too. And a hat.’
She smiled, and the noose that had started to tighten about his neck eased. ‘I have sunscreen at home. I use it for work. But a new hat might be nice.’
He stared at that smile and then fumbled for the door handle. He needed to get out of the car now or he’d be in danger of kissing her.
‘Let’s go shopping.’
* * *
Mia looked cute in her board shorts and swim-shirt—a combination of blue and pink that set off the warmth of her skin and provided a perfect foil for the dark lustre of her hair. She’d look cute in the modest one-piece that he knew she wore beneath too, and while he’d be lying if he said he didn’t care about seeing her in a bikini, a large part of him simply didn’t care what she wore. That large part of him just wanted her to relax and be happy.
He glanced across. She reclined on a banana lounger, staring at her toes and smiling.
He moved to the lounger beside hers. ‘What are you smiling at?’
Her cheeks went a delicious pink. ‘Oh, I...’
He leaned closer, intrigued. ‘’Fess up.’
Her eyes danced. Not long ago they’d all enjoyed a rousing