LITMIR.BIZ

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back in Australia and without work to keep him busy and his mind full meant the past had a horrible way of sneaking up on him.

      It hadn’t taken long for the past to insert itself. Last night, the nightmare he’d thought he’d finally banished had visited, laughing at his naiveté. It turned out it had been languishing in the wings, just waiting for him to land on bright red, Aussie soil before making a grand entrance. During its dormancy, it hadn’t change in shape or form. It was still him and Harry trapped in caves, wells, mines, barrels—any sort of container, vessel or space. They’d fight their way to the entrance, the surface, freedom, and he’d break through and turn to grab Harry’s hand to tug him over the line, only to have his brother pulled away from him at the last moment and vanish in front of his eyes.

      The nightmare had released him from its clutches in its age-old way—he’d woken with a start, drenched in sweat, his lungs tight, his chest heaving, and with the sheets tangled around his legs. He hadn’t been able to save Harry in real life so why did he expect to be able to do it in a dream?

      Although Gran was yet to grill him on work, it was obvious she was on a mission to fatten him up. Since he’d arrived three days ago, every meal had featured at least one of his favourite foods. As yet, none of them had piqued his appetite. It was still MIA along with sleep. So far, the only event to spark his interest had been meeting Lauren Fuller again.

      Never in a million years had he expected to find her still in Horseshoe Bay, let alone working as the GP. During that amazing summer twelve years ago, she’d been high on the excitement of starting her medical degree and he remembered her discussing plans to work in indigenous communities. Horseshoe Bay was the antithesis of a desert community or even an indigenous coastal one. Still, all that talk had been a long time ago and plans could change—his certainly had.

      Seeing her again had given him a few rare moments of pleasure and it had pierced the numbness and fatigue he was struggling to throw off. He’d felt more alive in those few minutes than he had in weeks. Granted, the feeling had been tempered by her obvious displeasure at seeing him. It was a reaction that still confused him. Despite closely examining his memory in the early hours of the last two mornings, no matter which way he came at it, his recollections of their time together only ever generated a collage of fun, laughter and sex.

       Love.

      He immediately shied away from the word. Love only brought pain and when he thought of Lauren that emotion was absent. No, he had a deep and abiding affection for her. She’d helped him get through a tough and difficult time and for that he’d never forget her. More than once over the years he’d regretted having to leave her behind. Back then, staying in Australia had been impossible—that hadn’t changed.

      Despite knowing that, it hadn’t been enough to prevent him, in more disconsolate moments over the last ten years, from contemplating what his life might have been like if he’d stayed. Stayed with Lauren. But he knew those thoughts were flights of fancy. Even without the disaster that was his family and the fact they’d both been far too young and on the cusp of their adult lives to make a lifelong commitment, he was too difficult to love.

      But all those details aside, the fact Lauren had intimated he’d forgotten her had thrown him. It hadn’t only been excitement at seeing her again that had propelled him across the room to her; it had also been lo—gratitude. It had felt like the most natural thing in the world for him to lean in and kiss her on the cheek. After all, that’s what old friends did, right?

      Apparently not. Her unanticipated frostiness had not only shocked him, it had spiked him, denting his enthusiasm and leaving him feeling foolish. He’d immediately fallen back into old Ainsworth habits. In a moment he still regretted, he’d gone for one-upmanship. He shuddered whenever he thought about his supercilious tone. ‘Actually, it’s Mr Ainsworth.’

      His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out, half expecting a text from his grandmother asking him to pick up something for her in town.

      Nice of you to let us know you’re back in the country. I didn’t appreciate being made to look a fool when Alison Petty said she’d seen you after visiting your brother and I told her she must be mistaken. Your mother would appreciate a visit.

      His father, he noted wryly, didn’t waste text characters on greetings or sign-offs. Then again, it was no real surprise as he didn’t use them in telephone calls, emails or face-to-face conversations either. Randall Ainsworth, MBBS, FRCS, PhD had little time for pleasantries—after all, he was a very busy man. As for Charlie’s mother appreciating a visit? The jury was still out on that and had been for a long time.

      He slid the phone back into his pocket, trying to ignore the unwanted and sticky tug of the complicated web that was his family ties. Visiting either of his parents and pretending that the accusations and angry words had faded into the past was pointless. They still hung in the air as fresh and raw as the day they’d been spoken in the ICU ward by Harry’s bed. He was intelligent enough to know that time would not have improved the odds of a visit going well.

      Basil barked, the sound thankfully breaking into his unhappy thoughts and diverting him. Charlie watched in surprise as the dog broke into a run. To be accurate, it was more of a brisk waddle but it was faster than the beagle’s usual snail pace. He glanced along the beach and noticed a woman running towards them. Dressed in bright fluoro, she was impossible to miss.

      Charlie set off after Basil, knowing that not everyone loved dogs, even harmless arthritic ones. He didn’t have the energy to deal with an angry resident quoting beach by-laws at him. As he got closer, he noticed the runner’s figure—trim but soft and curvy in all the places that made him appreciate a woman’s body. He felt something shift inside and for the first time in months his libido sat up and took notice. Basil chose that moment to bark again and Charlie laughed, appreciating the dog’s good taste. The noise seemed to penetrate the woman’s concentration and, without breaking her stride, she turned her head towards the sound.

      Lauren. Even with her face shadowed by the peak of her running cap, he’d recognise those rich brown eyes anywhere. He raised his hand in a wave and caught her momentary prevarication—she didn’t want to stop. Well, blow that. He wanted to talk to her and find out why she was being so prickly. ‘Morning, Lauren.’

      If she wanted to ignore him, she was now stymied by Basil, who was waddling around her feet. She either stopped running or risked tripping over the rotund dog. Charlie decided right there and then that his unexpected wingman was getting a big, fat, juicy steak for dinner tonight. Lauren did an elegant sidestep and then stopped, bent and tousled Basil’s velvet ears. She didn’t look up.

      ‘Mr. Ainsworth.’

      ‘You used to call me Charlie.’

      ‘We’ve grown up, Charles.’

      She rose gracefully, her full height bringing the top of her head level with his chin. A memory flashed of her curves resting neatly into his dips—the two of them interlocking like puzzle pieces—and how he’d always rested his chin gently on her hair, breathing in her scent. Apples. She’d always smelt of apples and he idly wondered if she still did.

      A sensation akin to peace rolled through him at the memory. Those six precious weeks with Lauren had been a haven from nine months of hell. A temporary but welcome escape from his family life until he’d made the break permanent with a move overseas. ‘Fair enough,’ he said, despite the fact he thought her calling him Charles was unfair. ‘But don’t be surprised if I fail to respond when you call me that. My parents are the only people who use my full name and I rarely respond to them.’

      ‘Your grandmother introduced you as Charles the other night.’

      ‘Ingrained social etiquette. Generally, she calls me Charlie or Stupid, depending on what I’ve done.’

      Lauren’s lips wriggled as if she was fighting a smile. ‘So, you get called stupid a lot, do you?’

      ‘Just enough to keep me grounded.’ He shot her a self-deprecating grin, hoping to be rewarded with a full smile. It didn’t

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