Second Chance With Her Billionaire. Therese Beharrie

       CHAPTER ONE

      WHEN WYATT MONTGOMERY walked through the door, Summer Bishop took three steps forward and stopped next to the first single man she saw. The man looked over at her, smiled, and she resisted the smile that courted her own lips. He was perfect. About her height, a pleasing enough face, and he wasn’t standing next to anyone else.

      He turned then, offering her a glass of champagne from his tray. All desire to smile vanished. The man was a waiter.

      Heat crawled up her neck, but she refused the embarrassment. It simply wouldn’t do. Embarrassment wouldn’t get her through this weekend. Though she was sure it would make an appearance, she didn’t have to pay attention to it.

      Not when she spoke with her ex-husband. Certainly not when she pretended a man she didn’t know was her date so she could avoid said ex-husband.

      Fortunately, Wyatt didn’t know she’d been trying to avoid looking like a lonely loser. Yet when she felt his gaze on her, she could have sworn he did. She took a glass of champagne from the waiter’s tray—why the hell not?—and downed it in one gulp. Then she returned the empty glass to the tray with a quick nod of thanks, before trying to focus on what her parents were saying.

      But she couldn’t.

      It was as if Wyatt had issued a wordless bet the instant he walked into her parents’ party. Her skin was hot, prickly, as if he knew she was desperately avoiding his gaze and was taunting her from across the room. Look at me, he seemed to be saying to her, stop pretending I’m not here. His voice was annoyingly smooth, even in her thoughts. It reminded her of all the times he’d whispered things in her ear that had—

       Don’t you dare, Summer Bishop.

      Adhering to the voice in her head that was kindly warning her against drooling over her ex-husband’s seductive prowess, she tried, again, to focus on her parents. They exchanged adoring looks. Told the family and friends who were there to celebrate their vow renewal on their thirtieth wedding anniversary about their love for one another. Their loyalty to one another.

      She took a deep breath. Tried to control how the champagne now felt as if it were burning a hole in her stomach.

      When that didn’t work, she slipped back, behind the waiter, and then past two more people, then four, until finally she was at the glass sliding doors that led to the patio. Grass stretched out from the end of the patio to the edge of the cliff the lodge had been built on.

      Whatever she felt about being forced to attend the weekend celebration for her parents’ anniversary, she couldn’t deny they’d picked an amazing place to have it at. Granted, it was in the small town of Wilderness, six hours away from her home of Cape Town. But the cliff overlooked the most gorgeous beach, with a path a few metres away from her leading down. It was almost worth it.

      Summer walked until she could see the white-brown beach sand. It called out to her, the crash of the waves on the shore chiming in. She wished she could answer. Wished she could strip off the dress she’d chosen to wear to the celebration she wanted nothing to do with and walk into the ocean.

      She settled for dragging in a full breath of the salty air.

      ‘Daydreaming of running away?’ a voice came from behind her.

      The goosebumps were because of the sea breeze, Summer told herself, before straightening her shoulders and turning.

      ‘Wyatt,’ she said steadily, as if her insides didn’t feel as though they were disintegrating at the sight of him. ‘How pleasant to see you again.’

      Those sensual lips curved into a smile that seemed decidedly feline.

      ‘Pleasant?’ he repeated, cocking his head.

      She tried not to notice how the wind was mussing his hair. Or that the top button of his shirt was open, revealing tantalising brown skin that sent an irrational image of her licking it flashing through her mind.

      ‘Not quite the word I would use,’ he continued. She stared at him for a second before remembering she needed to have a sassy response.

      ‘Okay,’ she said, trying to recover when she thought there might have been a saltiness on her tongue from the skin she’d licked in her imagination, ‘how about it’s a surprise to see you again?’

      ‘But it’s not a surprise,’ he replied quite logically, slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers. ‘We knew this was coming.’

      ‘Unfortunately,’ she muttered.

      He quirked a brow, then chuckled softly to himself. ‘You couldn’t get out of it.’

      ‘I—’ She broke off before she could give herself away. ‘I didn’t try,’ she lied.

      Again that not quite genuine smile returned to his lips. ‘I’m disappointed. I thought an occasion that would force you to see your ex-husband for the first time in two years would at least warrant an escape attempt.’

      ‘It’s my parents’ thirtieth anniversary,’ she said, repeating what her twin sister, Autumn, had told Summer when she’d complained about having to attend.

      ‘It’s been eight years,’ Autumn had said. ‘We’ve moved on.’

      Autumn’s voice had softened, which had been the worst part for Summer. Not that she couldn’t skip the weekend celebration. Not because of the reasons she wanted to escape it. It was the sympathy. With Autumn, when they dared speak about their family dynamics at all, it was always the sympathy.

      But Summer’s feelings about her family, her parents, didn’t warrant sympathy. They were valid. Autumn just didn’t know the entire truth of it. Eight years later, Summer still couldn’t share that truth. Not with her sister, and not with the man she’d once loved.

      A familiar resentment bubbled inside her.

      Summer released a shaky breath and met Wyatt’s eyes. She did a quick intake of air at the intensity as their gazes clashed. It felt as if that air had stumbled on its way to her lungs. Tension crackled around them; she was almost positive she felt the ground shift beneath her.

      No. This wasn’t a natural disaster. Rather, it was a natural effect of seeing the man she’d walked away from two years before. An after-effect,