LITMIR.BIZ

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memories but also a sadness that she really didn’t want to face. She had told herself it was only an overnight stay. A quick trip. Nothing to worry about. But now, looking back, she realised she should have listened to her intuition and stayed far away from the town where Tom Fielding still lived. She was already planning a new life in Texas. So much further from Melbourne. So much further from the temptation of Tom Fielding.

      She now knew that she couldn’t trust her heart, or her body for that matter, around the man. He wasn’t a bad man, quite the opposite, in fact, but he was definitely the wrong man for her. Against her will, Sara’s thoughts were dragged back to that brief trip and how terribly wrong it had all gone.

      Day one had been fine. The visa application had been processed without any hiccups. It had been day two when Sara had found herself sitting alone at Vue de Monde on the fifty-fifth floor of the historic Rialto building. She had ordered her meal and had been in high spirits, sipping her white wine and thinking about her impending trip to Texas.

      She had been offered a position at a large teaching hospital in San Antonio. It was going to be a fresh start, a chance to move on and find a life that might just fulfil her dreams. Sara had finally grown tired of her life revolving around what everyone else wanted. Sacrificing her dreams, her hopes, for the needs of everyone else had become a pattern until three years ago. That fateful day when she’d decided she couldn’t give up on one particular dream. She hoped this move would give her the chance to realise that dream. The dream of becoming a mother. She knew she had the packing, the shipping and all that a move of that distance entailed, but it would be worth every bit of effort. She would be free to live her life on her terms.

      Suddenly her thoughts were stolen. As was her breath. Both taken by the vision of a man she’d thought she would never see again.

      Sara did a double take. Could it be? She shook her head a little. Could it really be him?

      He walked into the restaurant and took a seat at a table by the window. It had been three years since she had last seen him. They hadn’t contacted each other since she’d left. No telephone calls. No letters. Nothing.

      Perhaps it was her imagination. Perhaps it was someone who looked just like him.

      Then she reminded herself there was really no other man who came close to his looks, his stature, his charisma. It was definitely Tom Fielding. All six foot two inches of him had crossed the room and had turned every woman’s head as he’d done so.

      Sara’s heart raced a little as she watched him take the wine list from the waitress. She saw the waitress attempt to flirt, it was subtle, but enough for another woman to notice. Tom was unmoved. He didn’t appear to notice or, if he did, he didn’t respond. The flustered waitress placed the napkin in his lap and hovered, a little longer than necessary.

      Sara felt a tightening in her chest and butterflies awakening in the pit of her stomach as the reality of being this close to Tom hit home. She had forgotten the effect he had on her. And apparently still did. Her emotions began playing havoc, sending her mind into a tailspin. She looked away. Swallowing hard, she began to play with her cutlery absent-mindedly.

      She hadn’t expected so many mixed emotions to come in to play. Attraction, regret, melancholy, guilt, even a hint of lust. This was not supposed to happen. This was a bad dream playing out. Sharing the same restaurant as Tom was not in the plan, and her options to escape the uncomfortable situation were limited. She could hardly leave the restaurant after ordering her dinner. Most likely it would draw even more attention to her. She didn’t want to look back in Tom’s direction but she was drawn to him. Drawn to him just like the conflicting desire to gaze at an open wound.

      Tom chose a wine and handed the waitress back the wine list. He looked out the window across the sweeping views of the Melbourne skyline. The panorama of lights all twinkling against the black sky. Then he turned in his seat, just a little, but enough to see Sara.

      He didn’t move. He froze in his chair, staring in silence. Sara did the same. She had no idea what he was thinking. She barely knew what she was thinking as she looked at the handsome curves of his face and the generous sweep of his broad shoulders in his tailored black jacket. The ultra-modern restaurant was dimly lit and combined with the dark charcoal and earthy brown tones of the sleek decor it was difficult to make out very much. Except that he was still handsome. So very handsome.

      It wasn’t cocky good looks he possessed. It was as if he just didn’t know how appealing he was to women. He had always been that way. He obviously knew on some level that he was attractive but he never took advantage of it or seemed impressed by the gift nature had bestowed on him. Tom Fielding was a lot deeper than skin alone.

      He stood up then hesitated for a moment, as if to seek some sort of approval to approach. But he did anyway. Her stomach was a tangled mess of nerves as she watched him drop his napkin on the table and cross over to her. His eyes didn’t leave her face for an instant.

      ‘Sara,’ he began, as he bent down to kiss her cheek. The scent of his cologne filled her senses. It wasn’t overpowering, it was subtle and sensual. It was Tom.

      ‘It’s so good to see you,’ he continued.

      Sara was momentarily speechless. She knew she was in Melbourne, it wasn’t as if they had bumped into each other in an isolated town on the other side of the world. Perhaps she shouldn’t have even been surprised, but it was still overwhelming.

      ‘Lovely to see you too, Tom,’ she finally breathed in reply. It was a struggle as she felt her heart cramp.

      ‘May I?’ he asked, as his hand rested on the empty chair.

      Sara nodded and he pulled out the chair and sat down at her table. Out of habit, he reached across and touched her hand.

      * * *

      Looking back in the harsh light of day, Sara realised that had been her first mistake. She should have kept Tom Fielding at arm’s length. It had begun to rain, and Sara regretted not asking her cab from the airport to drop her at the nearest coffee shop to the hospital. She needed a short black to wake herself up after the early flight and couldn’t bear the thought of cafeteria coffee. She was in search of the strength only a barista could provide. Picking up her steps even more, her mind raced back to that night. That silly, stupid night four weeks ago.

      * * *

      Dinner alone had turned into dinner for two, then a stroll, and then drinks at a bar in the city. Scars had a way of fading a little in the soft lights of the evening, particularly when wine was involved. Old times, old feelings, old reasons for falling in love replaced the wounds and hurt. Her defences became shaky and, against her will, they finally fell.

      Reason didn’t have a chance. Just before midnight, they were alone in her hotel room. Tom looked more appealing than any man she had ever seen. Sitting on the edge of her bed in his long black jeans, his suede boots a little dusty, his dark blond hair pushed back in waves that brushed the collar of his white linen shirt. His jacket was flung over the small sofa by the window.

      He looked like a cowboy. Her cowboy for tonight.

      And it could only be for tonight. For old times’ sake, she reasoned silently. There was no chance of anything more. They had tried that and it didn’t work. She wasn’t going there again. She wasn’t giving up her dreams for this man. But she knew her heart was finally out of harm’s way. It was safely protected inside the walls that she had carefully erected when she had walked out and left him, so she gave in to her desires. It’s only one night, she reassured herself.

      He was staring straight at her with his bedroom eyes. Despite wondering if she was about to make one of life’s bad decisions and one she might just regret, she seemed too powerless to stop herself. Was it lust or was it love? She wasn’t sure but it was going to happen.

      ‘Don’t tell me to stop, I know what I’m about to do...’ she started.

      Suddenly her words were cut short by his lips pressing against hers. His hands gently cupped her face as his mouth captured her sigh. She didn’t fight him. She didn’t want to talk any more. Her hands instinctively

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