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in advertising. An account executive.’

      On occasion he dealt with an advertising agency to help promote his hotel. The account executives were slick, efficient, and tough as old boots. Not at all the way he thought of Sandy. ‘Sounds impressive.’

      ‘It was.’

      ‘Was?’

      ‘Long story,’ she said, and started to walk towards the rocks again.

      ‘I’m listening,’ he said, falling into step beside her.

      The wind had dropped and now the air around them seemed unnaturally still. Seagulls screeched raucously. He looked through narrowed eyes to the horizon, where grey clouds were banking up ominously.

      Sandy followed his gaze. She wrinkled her cute up-tilted nose. ‘Storm brewing,’ she said. ‘I wonder—’

      ‘Don’t change the subject by talking about the weather,’ he said, stopping himself from adding, I remember how you always did that.

      He shouldn’t have let himself get reeled in to such a nostalgic conversation. There was no point in dredging up those old memories. Not when their lives were now set on such different paths. And his path was one he needed—wanted—to tread unencumbered. He could not survive more loss. And the best way to avoid loss was to avoid the kind of attachment that could tear a man apart.

      He wanted to spend his life alone. Though the word ‘alone’ seemed today to have a desolate echo to it.

      She shrugged. ‘Okay. Back to my story. Jason and I were both working at the same agency when we met. The boss didn’t think it was a good idea when we started dating...’

      ‘So you had to go? Not him?’

      She pulled a face. ‘We...ell. I convinced myself I’d been there long enough.’

      ‘So you went elsewhere? Another agency?’

      She nodded. ‘And then the economy hit a blip, advertising revenues suffered, and last one in was first one out.’

      ‘That must have been tough.’

      ‘Yeah. It was. But, hey, one door closes and another one opens, right? I got freelance work at different agencies and learned a whole lot of stuff I might never have known otherwise.’

      Yep, that was the old Sandy all right—never one to allow adversity to cloud her spirit.

      She took a deep breath. He noticed how her breasts rose under her tight-fitting top. She’d filled out—womanly curves softened the angles of her teenage body. Her face was subtly different too, her cheekbones more defined, her mouth fuller.

      He wouldn’t have thought it possible but she was even more beautiful than she’d been when she was eighteen.

      He wrenched his gaze away, cleared his throat. ‘So you’re looking at a franchise?’

      Her eyes sparkled and her voice rose with excitement. ‘My chance to be my own boss, run my own show. It’s this awesome candle store. A former client of mine started it.’

      ‘You were in advertising and now you want to sell candles? Aren’t there enough candle stores in this world?’

      ‘These aren’t ordinary candles, Ben. The store is a raging success in Sydney. Now they’re looking to open up in other towns. They’re interviewing for a Melbourne franchise and I put my hand up.’

      She paused.

      ‘I want to do something different. Something of my own. Something challenging.’

      She looked so earnest, so determined, that he couldn’t help a teasing note from entering his voice. ‘So it’s candles? I don’t see the challenge there.’

      ‘Don’t you?’ she asked. ‘There’s a scented candle for every mood, you know—to relax, to stimulate, to seduce—’

      She stopped on the last word, and the colour deepened in her cheeks, flushed the creamy skin of her neck. Her eyelashes fluttered nervously and she couldn’t meet his gaze.

      ‘Well, you get the story. I wrote the copy for the client. There’s not much I don’t know about the merits of those candles.’ She was almost gabbling now to cover her embarrassment.

      To seduce.

      When he’d been nineteen, seducing Sandy had been all he’d thought about. Until he’d fallen in love with her. Then respecting her innocence had become more important than his own desires. The number of cold showers he’d been forced to take...

      Thunder rumbled ominously over the water. ‘C’mon,’ he said gruffly, ‘we’d better turn back.’

      ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Though I suppose it’s too late now for my birthday lunch...’ She hesitated. ‘Please—forget I just said that, will you?’

      ‘It’s your birthday today?’

      She shrugged dismissively. ‘Yes. It’s nothing special.’

      He thought back. ‘It’s your thirtieth birthday.’

      And she was celebrating alone?

      ‘Eek,’ she said in an exaggerated tone. ‘Please don’t remind me of my advancing years.’

      ‘February—of course. How could I forget?’ he said slowly.

      ‘You remember my birthday?’

      ‘I’d be lying if I said I recalled the exact date. But I remember it was in February because you were always pointing out how compatible our star signs were. Remember you used to check our horoscopes in your father’s newspaper every day and—?’

      He checked himself. Mentally he slammed his hand against his forehead. He’d been so determined not to indulge in reminiscence about that summer and now he’d gone and started it himself.

      She didn’t seem to notice his sudden reticence. ‘Yes, I remember. You’re Leo and I’m Pisces,’ she chattered on. ‘And you always gave me a hard time about it. Said astrology was complete hokum and the people at the newspaper just made the horoscopes up.’

      ‘I still think that and—’ He stopped as a loud clap of thunder drowned out his voice. Big, cold drops of water started pelting his head.

      Sandy laughed. ‘The heavens are angry at you for mocking them.’

      ‘Sure,’ he said, but found himself unable to resist a smile at her whimsy. ‘And if you don’t want to get drenched we’ve got to make a run for it.’

      ‘Race you!’ she challenged, still laughing, and took off, her slim, tanned legs flashing ahead of him.

      He caught up with her in just a few strides.

      ‘Not fair,’ she said, panting a little. ‘Your legs are longer than mine.’

      He slowed his pace just enough so she wouldn’t think he was purposely letting her win.

      She glanced up at him as they ran side by side, her eyes lively with laughter, fat drops of water dampening her hair and rolling down her flushed cheeks. The sight of her vivacity ignited something deep inside him—something long dormant, like a piece of machinery, seized and unwanted, suddenly grinding slowly to life.

      ‘I gave you a head start,’ he managed to choke out in reply to her complaint.

      But he didn’t get a chance to say anything else for, waiting at the top of the stairs to the hotel, wringing her hands anxiously together, stood Kate Parker.

      ‘Oh, Ben, thank heaven. I didn’t know where you were. Your aunt Ida has had a fall and hurt her pelvis, but she won’t let the ambulance take her to hospital until she’s spoken to you.’

      CHAPTER THREE

      SANDY WAS HALFWAY up the stairs, determined to beat Ben

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