Billionaire's Snowbound Marriage Reunion
Author: Justine Lewis
Date: 2023-02-21 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Romance
Description: Will they be able to put their past aside to find a future together? Find out in this electrifying debut by Justine Lewis for Harlequin Romance. Can they forgive the past… …to claim a future? Bestselling author Lily doesn’t expect to have to share her remote cabin getaway with anyone—let alone her ex-husband, billionaire Jack! She hasn’t seen him since their fledgling marriage imploded a decade ago, but her response to him is as visceral as ever… Now snowbound together, they’re forced to face the truths of what came between them. Rediscovering the connection that started it all, will they seiz
Publisher: Harlequin

Why was he standing so close to her?

“What if no one won?” Jack repeated.

“If no one won?” Lily whispered. What if they could both just put it all behind them? Agree that the past didn’t matter? For the first time, she didn’t dismiss the idea outright, but let it sit for a moment in her mind.

They could both pretend, at least while they were stuck here. They couldn’t pretend they didn’t have a past. Or a future. Only the present. And at present, things were looking pretty good. She stared straight ahead and all she saw was chest. A wall of hard, defined muscle and soft skin.

He moved forward again. She had to step away, tell him that it would be a mistake. Before she knew what she was going to say, she lifted her gaze. Big mistake. As soon as she was looking into his pale blue eyes, nothing else seemed to matter.

He lifted his hand and his thumb brushed the underside of her chin, gently, lifting it up. He lowered his mouth to hers.

Dear Reader,

What a thrill it is to be writing the Dear Reader for my first novel with Harlequin! I have read so many of these over the years and it is so special to me to now be able to write one to you.

I remember the exact moment the idea for this book came to me. I was in my lovely local supermarket when I saw a magazine cover featuring Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston with a headline announcing they were back together. I laughed out loud. Twenty years after their breakup and the press still won’t leave that pair alone.

My characters Jack and Lily are not Brad and Jen, but they were very much in the public eye when they broke up. Jack is now facing one of the most complicated dilemmas of his life and finds himself stranded with the woman who broke his heart but also the one who knows him best.

Life is complicated, love can be messy, but stories about overcoming the past and healing wounds give us all hope.

I hope you love Jack and Lily’s story as much as I loved writing it. I’d love to connect at justinelewis.com or find me on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.

Happy reading,

Justine

Billionaire’s Snowbound Marriage Reunion

Justine Lewis

Justine Lewis writes uplifting, heartwarming contemporary romances. She lives in Australia with her hero husband, two teenagers and outgoing puppy. When she isn’t writing, she loves to walk her dog in the bush near her house, attempt to keep her garden alive and search for the perfect frock. She loves hearing from readers and you can visit her at justinelewis.com.

Billionaire’s Snowbound Marriage Reunion is Justine Lewis’s debut title for Harlequin

Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

For my dad, who took us to Yosemite, even though we got snowed in.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

EXCERPT FROM TEMPTED BY HER FAKE FIANCÉ BY KATE HARDY

CHAPTER ONE

SNOW IN OCTOBER around Yosemite National Park was not uncommon, but snow in September was almost unheard of. It hadn’t even occurred to Lily Watson to pack her snow chains, let alone put them on her tyres as she drove along Route 41.

The snow had begun falling softly as she’d headed towards the national park. By the time she’d driven through Wawona heavy clouds had blocked out the sun, bringing an early evening across the mountains. The car windows were freezing to the touch, and there was no chance of taking a detour down to Tunnel View to catch a glimpse of spectacular El Capitan. When she reached the turn-off to Yosemite West she couldn’t see much further than the reach of her headlights, let alone the famous view.

Lily drove the last twenty minutes at a cautious five miles per hour and reached the cabin just as she began to feel her tyres losing their grip on the road. But she had arrived safely and had no intention of leaving the cabin for at least a week. Maybe longer.

As she turned carefully off the trail and into the drive she looked up at the familiar wooden cabin, a well-known, well-loved refuge from the pressures and cares of the rest of the world. A glint of light in a window caught her eye, and she squinted to focus properly. The mirage—for it must be one—gave the impression a light was on inside the house.

No, it was just her eyes playing tricks. Or a reflection from a nearby cabin. Even if the closest house was a hundred yards away.

Lily searched her handbag for the garage-opener Meredith had given her with the house keys. Then she looked up and saw the light again. There was definitely one on inside.

Her heart hitched. Who would be in the cabin? Meredith was in LA, and Bradley was in New York. No one was meant to be here but her. She sighed at her own foolishness. Meredith or Bradley must have left a light on the last time one of them was here. Or maybe the caretaker. That was all.

The simplest explanations were usually the correct ones, and she shouldn’t let her overactive imagination get the better of her. She wrote crime novels for a living, and over the years had trained her mind to jump to the worst, most dangerous conclusions.

There was no one else here. More importantly, no one else in the world knew she was here.

The cabin belonged to Lily’s long-time friend and agent Meredith, and Meredith’s soon-to-be ex-husband, Bradley. Two days ago Meredith had pressed the keys into Lily’s hand and told her to come here, out of phone signal, to escape the public announcement of her separation from David. It would also give her the mental space she needed to finish her latest novel, which was woefully behind schedule and due to her editor in only four weeks.

Unlike Lily’s divorce from Jack, all those years ago, which had been sudden and rushed and confusing, her separation from David had been calm and orderly—the result of decisions made by two rational adults. She and David still cared for one another, but in the past few months they’d come to realise they wanted different things in life. David wasn’t prepared to give Lily the one thing she wanted and, after much soul-searching, Lily had decided that was one dream she wasn’t prepared to give up.

The announcement of their separation would be made by their respective publicists via carefully drafted press releases. On their own terms.

A week or two at the cabin, free from distractions, free from the internet was precisely what she needed.

Lily had been to Meredith’s cabin in the mountains many times, to write, relax and to escape. When the intrusion had been too much...when she, him, they had been all anyone wanted to talk about.

She pressed the button to open the garage. Nothing happened. She shook the opener and pressed it again. This time she heard a faint click in the stillness of the snow and the door began to rise. Finally. In mere moments she would be warm inside, with a cup of tea in one hand and soup on the stove.

She closed her eyes and stretched her arms, tilted her neck from side to side. Her neck clicked; she felt older than her thirty-two years.

When Lily opened her eyes her headlights flashed across the shape of a vehicle already in the garage. A black sports car, parked slap-bang in the middle of it. Like it owned the place. An Aston Martin.

A chill slid down her spine. Aston Martins always reminded her of him. Never mind the obvious James Bond reference, they were her ex-husband’s car of choice. At least they had been ten years ago. It would be foolish to think he hadn’t changed since then. Either way, who cared? Because the car could not belong to him. Last she’d heard, Jack was still living safely far away on the other side of the country in his Manhattan penthouse.

Though it was strange that Meredith hadn’t mentioned there would be a car in the garage...

Bradley. It must be something to do with Bradley, Meredith’s soon-to-be ex-husband.

But even that was strange. Why would Bradley leave a car all the way up here? It wasn’t as though there was any public transport in this part of the world. It was the wilderness. With no phone signal. It wasn’t as though he could’ve called an Uber to take him to the airport.

And as far as Lily knew neither Meredith nor Bradley owned an Aston Martin.

Lily lifted her foot from the brake and carefully manoeuvred her car into the narrow space the rude owner of the sports car had left between the car and the wall. Maybe Bradley had let some local friend leave a car here? Or he’d bought a new car in his efforts to spend more money while his divorce was being finalised.

Or a murderer had used the vehicle to abduct someone and stored it here to frame Bradley...

Lily giggled to herself. Yes, she had a novel to finish—but it wasn’t that one.

The internal door between the garage and the house was suddenly flung wide open and a large golden retriever jumped through. It stopped in Lily’s headlights and started barking frantically. Lily slammed her foot on the brakes with such force that even at the slow speed she was travelling her head hit the headrest with a thump.

Her heart pounded in her throat.

So the murderer was still inside, hiding the body or...

Before she could think of any more scenarios for her next book, or even reverse her car and save herself from whoever—or whatever—was going to emerge from the house, a tall, solid figure followed the dog out of the house and into the garage.

The light from the next room—the laundry—only half lit the man’s face, but sadly she’d have known his silhouette anywhere.

He gripped a long solid object in his hand. Maybe a torch or a hammer? In the shadows, Lily couldn’t quite tell. He held it at chest height, not threatening her with it, but protecting himself nonetheless.

He wouldn’t know who she was. She had the advantage of the angle of the light at least. She could see him, though it was unlikely he could see her beyond her headlights. And Lily had another advantage. While Jack Thorpe was many things—billionaire, CEO, heir to one of America’s largest media fortunes and the ultimate disappointment as a husband—he was not a psychopathic serial killer.

She took a deep breath in a futile attempt to calm her racing heart. It was a mix-up. Possibly the world’s most awkward one, but still just a mix-up. Not a potential hostage situation.

But that didn’t explain why on earth he was here.

Not that it mattered; he’d be leaving in a moment.

She couldn’t leave. The snow was too deep and she didn’t have chains.

The dog continued to bark, but Jack grabbed its collar and held it next to him. Lily kept her headlights on and even turned them to high beam, to make absolutely sure he wouldn’t catch a glimpse of her before she was ready.

Jack shielded his eyes when the brightness increased as she drove her car fully into the garage. He pulled the dog closer. It was a healthy golden dog, with a shiny coat. He’d had a dog just like it all those years ago, but with a sudden stab of pain in her chest she realised this couldn’t be Rosie. This dog was far too young, too sprightly.

Rosie had been seven or eight years old ten years ago: she must have crossed the Rainbow Bridge by now. A memory Lily hadn’t revisited in years jumped back into her mind—that of walking with Jack and Rosie through the Rambles in Central Park.

He’d loved that dog.

He’d loved that dog more than anyone.

This dog, New Rosie, was rising off her front paws as Jack held her collar. Lily shut off the engine. The man and his dog slunk slowly backwards to the internal door, and he raised the object in his hand.

She might have turned off the engine, but she wasn’t ready to dim the lights.

Lily took a moment to put herself in the other person’s shoes—a skill she’d practised all her life, first as an actor, then as an author.

If I were in a cabin in the middle of a snowstorm and a strange car with an unidentified occupant opened my garage and drove their car into it, I would probably grab the nearest blunt object too.

Or run.

Or...

The sight of Jack made her thoughts wander. Hair, thick and dark, made for running your fingers through. Shoulders a swimmer would train years for. Cheekbones so chiselled they must be illegal in some states. But she could handle all that. It was his clear blue eyes and the way she felt his gaze in every cell of her body that was more problematic.

She wished he would run—get into his car and drive away and never return.

Jack Thorpe was lots of things, but she’d never known him to back away from a fight.

She flicked off her lights.

Jack steadied his heart rate with deep, slow breaths.

Whoever had an automatic opener to Bradley’s garage probably wasn’t a serial killer, even though Daisy was carrying on as though they were.

It was a mix-up. That was all. It wasn’t as though Meredith and Bradley were speaking to one another. It was probably just Meredith. Furious about the messy divorce, she’d taken it upon herself to visit the cabin one last time before she lost it in the settlement.

Jack had some sympathy for her; he knew all about bitter divorces. His own had been acrimonious, though it hadn’t been messy. Lily had left with only a suitcase and made no further claims on him or his family. Despite all her entitlements agreed in their prenuptial agreement. Lily had hardly been poor, she’d earnt a pretty penny from her acting, and now, as far as he knew, she’d made a success of her writing career, but her fortune back then had been nothing compared to his own. Let alone the Thorpe family’s. If Lily had engaged a lawyer to write just one letter of demand his father would have offered her a settlement larger than ten years’ worth of movie fees.

But she never had.

Guilt, he told himself. The only reason someone relinquished a fortune like that was a guilty conscience.

Jack’s stomach dropped. Meredith was meant to be in New York tomorrow. She had a face-to-face settlement conference with Bradley.

It couldn’t be Meredith.

In all likelihood it was simply a holiday rental Meredith had neglected to tell Bradley about. A misunderstanding that would soon be fixed.

Jack reached across to the nearby wall and flicked on the overhead lights just as the car’s headlights dimmed. At first he thought his eyes were tricking him—that all those memories of divorce had brought Lily to mind. But even his imagination wasn’t strong enough to make her actually materialise in this garage. No, it was just someone who looked a bit like her.

The driver’s door of the tiny hatchback opened, and slowly a figure uncurled itself from the car. The woman stood behind the open door and smiled at him. An enigmatic, closed-mouth smile. It was either a sick joke or a nightmare and he wasn’t sure which. Maybe both.

She looked familiar, yet strange. Older, yet more beautiful. Her face was thinner, her skin finer, her eyes deeper. It had been a decade since he’d seen her in person, though he’d seen her image in the media more often than he would have liked. Sometimes he’d catch her being interviewed on television if she had a new book out. Too often he’d notice her face on the cover of a magazine or in his social media feed. There would even sometimes be a badly Photoshopped image of her face with his own, and a headline announcing, yet again, that they were back together.

It was beyond absurd, but the tabloids of America seemed to share a bizarre delusion that he and Lily Watson still had feelings for one another.

A fantasy that was not grounded in fact or logic.

A fantasy even he had given up on a decade ago.

Jack realised he still held the torch aloft, like a threat, and dropped his arm to his side. Lily Watson was a lot of things—fiercely intelligent, funny and determined—but she wasn’t physically strong enough to threaten him. He placed the torch on the nearest shelf. Once he’d done that, she nudged her car door shut and, with one hand on a jaunty hip, ran her eyes up and down his body.

His muscles tensed. Well, if she was going to check him out from tip to toe, he’d do the same to her. She was wearing brown leather boots...tight black jeans that clung to her toned but shapely legs. An oversized cream sweater covered her torso, but through the loose fabric he could just make out the outline of her curves. Her dark hair was pulled off her face in a messy ponytail.

Even in those clothes, and after her long drive up here, she was gorgeous.

His mouth went dry, and his pulse quickened.

Which was more than a little inconvenient.

He focused instead on her car. The ridiculously tiny hatchback. Totally unsuitable for these conditions. And no snow chains.

He frowned. ‘Where are your snow chains?’

‘It’s lovely to see you too, Jack.’

‘How could you be so silly as to drive in a blizzard with no snow chains?’

He regretted his tone even as the words were leaving his mouth, shocked by how worried he sounded.

‘You flatter me, really, and your concern is so sweet. Misplaced, but sweet.’

She smiled at him, as if to disarm him, and she almost did. There was a pain in his gut as though someone had pressed a thick dagger up against it. But he steeled himself, held firm, and the blade didn’t penetrate.

‘I’m thinking about the search and rescue workers who’d be forced to risk their own necks to come out in this weather and look for someone too reckless to put on chains. I’m thinking of the poor person who’ll find the wreckage of your car and your mangled, decomposing body after it’s fallen over the edge of one of Yosemite’s impressive vertical drops.’

That was all. He didn’t wish Lily dead—of course not. But the shiver running up and down his spine at the thought of her being injured was surely just the cold.

‘Oh, you’re such a softie. And here I was thinking you didn’t care about me.’

She fluttered her eyelids. He was sure she hadn’t been this sarcastic all those years ago, but maybe he just didn’t remember.

No. He remembered everything about Lily Watson and the two years, six weeks and one day they’d been together.

She walked around the back of the car and opened the back. Seriously, the car was hardly bigger than one of the ride-on lawnmowers at his father’s Long Island estate. It was a miracle she’d made it here safely at all.

‘It wasn’t snowing when I left, and the forecast was for rain. It’s only September, for crying out loud.’

A flurry of snow blew into the garage behind her. For a moment they both looked out into the darkness. He could only see as far as the lights from the house stretched. The cold air reached right through the garage, where he stood with only thin socks covering his feet.

Lily turned from the snow and walked to the wall where the internal garage control was located. If she was familiar enough with this place to know where that button was she’d been here before. That didn’t mean she was staying now.

‘Wait!’ he called.

‘You want more snow to come in? Or are you about to get into your car and leave? I assume you have chains, given the dressing down you’ve just given me?’

‘I’m not going anywhere—but you will be.’

She laughed—a musical laugh that reminded him of a song he hadn’t heard in years. And, like a song that had once been his favourite, the melodic sound transported him instantly back over the years, to a simpler, happier time.

No. Just because he’d been oblivious to life’s complications and obstacles back then, it didn’t make it a ‘simpler’ time. Besides, any happiness he might have thought was his had been just an illusion. And any trust he’d placed in anyone had been naïve.

‘As you kindly pointed out, I don’t have any chains—and I wouldn’t want to risk anyone’s neck. You, since you’re so concerned for the search and rescue workers, presumably do have chains, so you can drive right on out of here.’

Damn. Why had he made such a big deal of her lack of snow chains? The danger she’d put herself in? The danger she’d just escaped? It wasn’t as though he had chains either.

But you didn’t drive in a blizzard and you weren’t planning to. You still aren’t. You’re both stranded.

He groaned. He didn’t want to show his hand—but, really, could the week get any worse? First his father and those stupid papers. And now this: stuck in the middle of a blizzard with his ex.

Lily left the garage door open and walked around to her open car. Her tight black jeans stretched over her bottom as her hips swayed.

Jack dragged a deep breath of cold air into his lungs and his chest stung. Of all the places, in all the world, why was Lily Watson here? Now? It couldn’t be a coincidence. This week of all weeks.

‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded.

‘Meredith suggested it,’ Lily said as she pulled out a small suitcase.

Meredith and Bradley owned the house.

A few weeks ago Bradley had told Jack, ‘I’d rather stab my own eyeballs out than ever speak to that woman again.’

Jack could easily believe that Meredith had no idea Bradley had lent the cabin to Jack. And when Jack had asked Bradley if he could use the place Bradley would likewise have had no idea Lily would be here.

It was plausible.

But not exactly probable.

‘Is she still your agent?’ Jack asked.

‘Yes—and she ordered me to come. I’m getting close to my deadline, and she thought a change of scenery would help me finish the book.’

Lily was an author now. Jack hadn’t followed her career closely—he had to maintain his sanity somehow—and he certainly hadn’t read any of her books. He’d rather, as Bradley had so eloquently put it, stab his own eyeballs out.

Lily lifted a cool box out of the car and placed it on the ground. Then she reached in for a black backpack and shut the rear door. Daisy had stopped barking and sat on her hind legs obediently as he watched Lily unpack. Some guard dog she was. Lily slung the backpack over her shoulder and wheeled the case towards the door.

A large gust of wind blew a burst of cold air in through the wide-open door. Lily’s shoulders clenched in a shiver. She kept moving towards the door. And him.

‘Why here?’ he asked.

‘Why not? This is Meredith’s house too. She’s as much right to lend it out as Bradley.’ Lily stopped a few feet from him. ‘I could ask you the same thing. Why are you here?’

‘Shoulder surgery. I’ve come up here to recover. Doctors’ orders.’

‘You’ve come to the middle of nowhere, away from all medical help, to recover from surgery and—what? Go climbing?’

The left side of her face cocked into a smirk. Okay, maybe he hadn’t come up with the world’s best excuse, but it was plausible.

Not probable, but plausible.

‘Besides, don’t you have half a dozen weekend places of your own?’

She was right, but he couldn’t argue with her without revealing the real reason he was here. Off the grid. Somewhere he wouldn’t be found.

Dropping the handle of her suitcase, Lily crouched down to dog height. She held out her small hand. Daisy sniffed Lily’s fingers, then moved in quickly for a cuddle. Not only was Daisy not a guard dog, she was also a traitor.

Lily stroked the pup’s head and whispered something that sounded like, ‘You beautiful girl...you good girl.’ Lily cooed and Daisy basked in the adoration as though he hadn’t been telling her how beautiful she was just ten minutes ago.

He’d never been jealous of his dog before, but the way Lily was stroking Daisy, rubbing her cheek in the dog’s fur, stirred something in him. Or maybe it was the look of unguarded pleasure on Lily’s face. A look he hadn’t seen in years. A look he now realised he’d purposefully forgotten.

‘I need rest, that’s all. I want peace and privacy. I have my doctor’s blessing.’ He mirrored her smirk back at her, but she was too busy petting Daisy to notice. ‘Besides, I was here first. You could go anywhere.’

‘No, I can’t. Unlike you, I don’t exactly have half a dozen houses to choose from. What’s her name? What’s your name, beautiful girl?’ Lily asked Daisy.

‘How do you know she’s a she?’

‘She is, isn’t she? You’ve always had girls. Rosie... Holly.’

At the sound of his old dogs’ names the dagger that had been pushing against his stomach pressed in sharp. ‘Daisy,’ he muttered. ‘Her name’s Daisy.’

Lily stood and brushed her hands on her jeans. ‘Daisy? I sense a botanical theme. Including me!’ She laughed, that same musical tune of cascading notes, and ruffled the fur on Daisy’s head again. ‘Hey, sister. Either he likes girls with flowers for names or I reminded him of one of his dogs.’

Holly, Rosie, Daisy... He knew he named his dogs after flowers—his mother had named Holly, his first retriever, and it had gone from there. But it had never occurred to him that Lily was part of that theme.

He’d been four when his mother had given him Holly. The same week she’d told him she was leaving to go and live in Paris. The unexpected memory of his now long-dead actress mother further added to the feeling of unease that had taken up position in his stomach.

It was a coincidence.

He’d sought Lily out because she had been impossibly pretty and he had been a shallow twenty-two-year-old.

Nothing more.

‘Hang on—’

But before he could protest about likening Lily to one of his dogs, or even tell her his dogs were far more loyal than she would ever be, she grasped the handle of her suitcase and moved towards the door. And him.

When she was a foot away, she stopped. He was wide enough to block her passage through the doorway unless she was prepared to brush her supple body past his. And he was reasonably confident she wasn’t. He looked her up and down. He felt himself stir slightly. If she were anyone else in the world he wouldn’t mind those curves brushing up against him. But this was Lily Watson, and he definitely didn’t need or want her curves anywhere near him.

He couldn’t leave. Even if he wanted to. He’d come here for a good reason and that hadn’t changed. There were very few places in the world these days without an internet signal. Even planes had Wi-Fi now. The landline out of this cabin was his only link to the rest of the world. No television, no internet. He was utterly uncontactable. The only person who knew he was here was Bradley.

She made to walk through the door, but he spread his legs and she halted her forward motion just in time to avoid bumping into him. His feet were numb from standing on the freezing concrete floor. He didn’t care.

‘I told Meredith not to tell anyone I was coming here,’ she said.

There was no love lost between Jack and Bradley’s soon-to-be ex-wife, Meredith. Jack didn’t dislike her personally, but he associated her too closely with Lily. Even though his best friend was still raw with anger and pain over the breakdown of his marriage, a tiny, guilty part of Jack was relieved that Meredith was out of Bradley’s life and therefore out of Jack’s. It meant his final connection with Lily was gone.

Meredith had been instrumental in helping him meet Lily. She’d been Lily’s agent, and a good friend even then. When Jack and Lily had separated he’d made an unspoken pact with Meredith: Jack would never ask about Lily and Meredith would never mention her in front of him. However, he had never been able to shake the feeling that Meredith still held a grudge.

As though he was the one in the wrong and not Lily.

And anyone who knew anything about Jack and Lily’s divorce knew that wasn’t true.

Lily being at the cabin today was a stupid mix-up, that was all. It was a coincidence. Even if it felt a little like the universe was trying to tell him something.

Jack didn’t want anyone to know he was in Yosemite and Bradley had honoured his trust by not telling anyone. But, Jeez, couldn’t Bradley have at least emailed his wife to tell her that the cabin was to be occupied?

‘And I told Bradley the same thing.’

‘I figured... Look, it’s obviously a mix-up, and since I can’t leave until the snow clears you’ll have to. Since you have snow chains...’ She raised a perfect eyebrow in challenge. ‘You do have chains, don’t you?’

Jack looked out into the darkness at the pile of snow that had fallen on the driveway in the time they’d been talking. He stepped over to the control on the wall and pressed it. The door began to slide down and shut the night out.

Of course Lily took that opportunity to slip past him and into the house.

She shouted over her shoulder. ‘Don’t take too long to pack. If you leave soon you’ll make it to the lodge by nine. They probably have rooms available.’

It didn’t matter if the lodge had rooms or not. Neither of them could leave without risking their lives.

‘You’re not going anywhere tonight,’ he admitted.

‘But you are? Good.’

It had been over a decade. And though it didn’t appear as though she was any less stubborn, he would show her that he had grown up. He’d be the bigger person.

‘Neither of us are going anywhere. It’s snowing and dark. And for crying out loud, Lily, I don’t have chains either. We’re both stuck here.’

CHAPTER TWO

STUCK.

It’s probably just for the night. You can handle this.

In the meantime, her stomach felt as though it was eating itself and her bladder was stretched to its limit. Dinner with Jack was the only option that wouldn’t result in her keeling over from hunger and wetting herself. Talk about an impossible choice.

The first thing that hit her when she struggled through the door with her heavy bags was the warmth. The second was the smell. Onions and garlic frying. It smelt better than any of the frozen meals she’d brought with her.

‘I’m in the main bedroom—you’ll have to take another room,’ he said as she wheeled her suitcase in through the door and to the right. Lily paused. She usually took the main room, but if Jack had slept in those sheets then it was the last place she wanted to lie.

Never mind; the lower wing would be fine. It had two bedrooms, both small, but she’d manage. As long as she had her own space.

‘I usually sleep down there anyway,’ she said, turning to look at him.

Jack had strong, definitive brows. He raised one of them in response. In contrast to the darkness of his hair, below his brows were two familiar piercing blue eyes. Eyes she’d used to lose herself in...eyes she couldn’t even look at now.

Instead, she turned, breathed in deeply, and took in her surroundings.

Bradley called the cabin his ‘shack’, which was an attempt at humility. Or humour. It was a luxurious house, larger than Lily’s own, fitted out with every convenience anyone wanting to escape the rat race could possibly want.

The main wing, now occupied by Jack, was up half a flight of stairs at the top of the slope. It had a bedroom and bathroom and opened out to a deck with a hot tub and views over the tree line. In the centre of the house were the living area and a large country kitchen with a dining table. The main room had a tall, raked ceiling with wooden beams. At the front of the room an enormous window overlooked a spectacular view of the valley. The room had always reminded her of the inside of an old church, a place to look out over the magnificent valley and worship nature. On the other side of the room was an imposing brick fireplace that faced comfortable, oversized leather sofas.

She loved this place. But it wasn’t the same with Jack’s presence looming next to her.

One night. You can get through one night.

As she stepped down to her rooms, the cool air of the lower wing chilled her.

‘I just turned on the heat down there, but it may take a while,’ Jack called after her.

Lily heard the gentle hum of the furnace and the warm air circulating through the rooms began to warm her bones, relax her, and yet...

She should have thrown her car into reverse as soon as she’d seen Jack’s car in the garage. She could have driven back to Wawona slowly.

No, you couldn’t. You’d just driven four hours from Monterey. There’s a blizzard. And you need the bathroom.

Lily dropped her suitcase at the bottom of the short flight of stairs leading to the lower wing. These rooms looked out into a peaceful wall of green—not that she could see anything through the early darkness and the blizzard. She’d be happy here. Even happier tomorrow, once Jack left. She chose a bedroom and pulled the curtains shut to keep in the warmth.

Suitcase deposited, Lily went back to the garage to get the cool box full of the food she’d need for the next week. Jack was standing in the doorway to the kitchen as she passed, his arms crossed over his ridiculously broad chest. He worked in an office, for goodness’ sake. What business did he have with pecs like that?

He eyed her as she carried the box in, but she refused to meet his gaze. ‘There’s room in the laundry freezer.’

The laundry and mud room were next to the garage. As she unpacked the meals into the large deep freeze, she sensed someone behind her and jumped.

‘Gourmet?’ he said, spying her stack of frozen meals.

‘I’ve come to write, not entertain.’

He shrugged. ‘Fair enough, but I’ve cooked some dinner and you’re welcome to share. It’ll be ready in fifteen minutes or so.’

As much as she wanted to tell him she’d wait and have frozen soup later, she was dizzy with hunger. Not eating as soon as possible was likely to be a worse mistake than eating with Jack.

Lily looked up, but unfortunately, squatting on the ground as she was, her eyes came to just below Jack’s crotch level. He wore a thick plaid shirt and grey track pants—more mountain man than CEO. She didn’t like seeing track pants on a man like Jack. They revealed too much, and Jack was the last man on earth she wanted to look at from this angle.

He was larger than she remembered. Not overweight—far from it. His stomach was still tighter than most men of his age. But his shoulders seemed broader, his chest squarer.

And, in the absence of any disfiguring accident, he was still—unhappily—as handsome as ever. The open-eyed, eager boy of a decade and a half ago was now a cooler, expressionless man. His feet were planted on the floor with determination and resolve. Twenty-two-year-old Jack had never frightened her. This Jack was unknowable. Unreachable. And so far unpersuadable.

Lily made a mental note: the ex-husband in her novel would suffer a horrible, painful accident. She grinned. Writing thrillers was the best fun.

‘What’s so funny?’

She hadn’t realised she was smiling. ‘Nothing.’

She closed the freezer and went back to the lower wing.

After using the bathroom and washing her face, she opened her suitcase. She’d packed several pairs of track pants and some old sweatshirts. The perfect clothes to wear while finishing a novel and escaping the press. Entirely unsuited to appearing effortlessly fabulous while having dinner with her ex-husband.

She looked down at the jeans and soft white sweater she’d driven up in. They were the most glamorous clothes she had with her.

Not that she either wanted or needed to look glamorous for Jack Thorpe, of course. Still, her appearance should at least say, I’m happy, I’m gorgeous, and I’m having a marvellous life without you.

Lily rifled through her suitcase for her make-up bag, and her heart dropped as she remembered. Back in Monterey she’d decided she’d be on her own and busy writing, so it would be pointless to pack make-up.

Lily flopped face-first on the bed.

He’s already seen you like this, and you don’t care what he thinks, remember? This is just an unfortunate misunderstanding. Just pretend he’s any other friend of Meredith and Bradley’s.

If he were any other friend she’d simply accept his invitation for dinner and not stress about it. If he were anyone else in the world she’d tell herself how she’d laugh about it when she got back home. She might even write it into a story. And she certainly wouldn’t worry that her face was bare and her eyes bloodshot with exhaustion and stress.

Jack might as well be a stranger. She hadn’t seen him for ten years—most of her adult life.

But Jack wasn’t anyone else.

Jack-an’-Lil. She’d always thought it sounded like a type of flower. Or a nursery rhyme. Either way, ‘Jack-an’-Lil’ was an entity entirely separate from her. It was the portmanteau the tabloids had christened them with when they’d first started dating.

Jack-an’-Lil went up the hill

To get stuck in the snow...

Even after all these years she was still a punchline.

She’d had boyfriends since Jack, and even believed once she was on the cusp of marrying one of them, but people still rolled her name together with Jack’s as if they were the same person. Jack-an’-Lil. The trashy mags still put photos of them on their front covers, touting exclusives about alleged reunions.

Lily groaned into her pillow. What would the tabloids make of this fiasco?

Thank God they’d never find out.

She was still the most beautiful woman in the world. Even with her face bare and heavy with exhaustion, she still had the power to stop his heart. And make other parts of his anatomy surge.

And she still couldn’t stand him. It was obvious how uncomfortable she was around him. Her shoulders bristled every time they came within a few feet of each other, and her eyes were wide and on the lookout for danger.

Not that it was a problem; he didn’t want her either. Not seriously, not sanely. But how could she possibly be angry with him? It wasn’t his fault they were both at the cabin, and he was open-minded enough to believe it wasn’t her fault either, but she seemed determined not to spend a second longer in his company than was absolutely necessary.

If anyone had a right to still be angry about what had happened all those years ago it was him. Despite that, he would show her he could put the past behind him—show her he had moved on. That would be the best way of proving that his life was wonderful and fulfilling without her. That their marriage had been a brief and unimportant blip in the story of his life.

Jack had made spaghetti carbonara—just the type of quick, simple and filling dish he specialised in. With a green salad, there would be more than enough to feed both of them. He never made small portions. He poured two glasses of Shiraz and waited.

He’d come up here for some peace and space to think. He had some big decisions to make. Probably the biggest he’d ever had to make in his life. And having Lily here, even safely tucked away in the other wing of the house, wasn’t going to help at all. In fact, she was just about the last person he needed up here, looking over his shoulder, passing judgement, however silently and unknowingly.

Daisy jumped up and wagged her tail. Jack looked up to see Lily enter the room. She greeted Daisy with a smile and a rub on the head. Jack received a glare that morphed into a look of suspicion as he passed her a glass of wine.

‘Shiraz. The perfect accompaniment to getting stuck in a blizzard with your ex,’ he joked.

Her lips tugged up. She was trying not to smile, and she accepted the drink. ‘Thank you. And thank you for dinner. You didn’t have to share.’

‘I know, but I’m sure we can have a pleasant meal together. We haven’t seen each other for a long time.’

So much water had passed under the bridge of life for both of them. He wasn’t overjoyed to see Lily, but he didn’t feel the need to run off into the blizzard to avoid spending even a minute in her company.

At barely twenty, Lily had not only been pretty, but undeniably one of the most magnetic women in the world. America’s sweetheart.

At thirty-two she was still beautiful, but also deeply, intensely sexy, in a way that twenty-year-olds simply didn’t have enough life experience to be.

Of course he’d loved that type of sweet allure at that age; he’d only been twenty-two himself. But there was something stronger about Lily today—something that told him he wouldn’t stand a chance of winning her now, even if they hadn’t shared the past they had.

Jack carried two steaming bowls of pasta to the table. Lily sat and Daisy, his traitorous dog, sat by Lily.

‘Here, girl,’ he said coaxingly to his dog as he took a seat.

Daisy looked to him, and then to Lily, and back again. She moved slowly to Jack’s side.

Lily tried to suppress another grin, this time with less success. She twirled some pasta onto her fork, lifted it slowly to her red lips, smelt it, and flicked her pink tongue cautiously across the food. Assured it was edible, she opened her lips and devoured it, before going quickly back for another, larger forkful.

Lily tilted her head to one side. ‘This is great. When did you learn to cook?’

‘I took some cooking classes once.’

‘You? Why on earth...?’

The implication being, why should he, heir to one of the largest fortunes in the United States and all-round spoilt brat, ever need to learn to cook?

He judged it best not to tell her it had been the idea of a woman he’d been seeing for a while, although he wasn’t exactly sure why that was something he didn’t want to mention to Lily.

‘Because I don’t like frozen meals,’ he replied. She raised a dark eyebrow, and he realised with a jolt that if he expected her to lay off the sarcasm he probably should as well. ‘I like to be able to fend for myself, that’s all.’

If you’d asked him a decade ago who the practical one of them was, it would have been Lily—no contest. She’d been able to cook, clean, iron... She’d once even teased him for not doing his own laundry.

They’d come from different worlds. She’d worked in one job or another since she was fourteen, supporting and looking after herself. His early years had been spent surrounded by servants who even picked up his underwear after him, followed by the sanctuary of boarding school where, likewise, everything had been served up to him—literally and metaphorically. Even at Harvard there’d been someone to pick up after him wherever he’d gone.

‘Sure, but don’t you ever just want to be by yourself?’ Lily had asked him once, when he’d first taken her to his house in LA and she’d seen how many household staff he had. ‘I’d hate to be surrounded by people all the time.’

Not long after, he’d realised how right she’d been. He’d liked people to do things for him, and he had been dependent upon and quite fond of his household staff in Manhattan and LA. But as he’d grown older he’d also liked to know that he could do things for himself. So if everything in his life fell apart—as it had now—he could take himself off to the middle of nowhere and be alone. Not have to depend on anyone else.

Because when it came down to it, the only person you could ever truly count on was yourself.

Jack took another sip of wine and felt warmer. He tried not to think too much about his time with Lily. If he dwelled on the end of their very short marriage he’d get very bitter, very quickly. It would be best if he understood that the woman sitting across the table from him now was very different from the one he’d known a decade ago. Just as he was a different person, it was safe to assume Lily was too. That way he could get through this evening and night politely and be able to convince her to leave first thing in the morning.

‘What did you do to your shoulder?’ she asked.

He put a mouthful of pasta in his mouth to allow himself time to think of a plausible story. ‘It’s an old injury, but the doctor said it was time to do something about it before it got worse.’

‘Sensible. What was wrong?’

Suddenly everything he’d ever known about anatomy—which, he had to face it, wasn’t that much—deserted him. He took another mouthful. He could tell Lily it was none of her business, but who got coy discussing shoulder injuries?

‘Torn rotator cuff,’ he said.

He was pretty sure that was something in the shoulder, but whether it was a muscle or a tendon or even something that could be operated on he had no idea, and he hoped she didn’t either.

‘Oh,’ she said.

Better get in with his own question rather than wait for another of hers. ‘So, you’re an author now?’

‘Yes.’ She kept eating and didn’t expand.

‘Thrillers? Crime? Right?’

She nodded.

‘Why?’

He thought it was a reasonable question, but the look she gave him was as frosty as the air outside.

‘Why not?’

‘I mean, you starred in sitcoms, then rom coms.’ When he’d first met Lily she’d been the star of the biggest sitcom of the moment—a role that had launched her into a hugely successful though very short movie career. She’d been the highest-paid female actor in the world two years running, but then shortly after their divorce she’d stopped acting for good.

Lily placed her fork down and, maybe he was imagining it, it felt as though her stare was accusing him of something.

‘I may have starred in them, but I didn’t write them. I’ve always liked reading and watching crime. It’s where my ideas come from. I can think up a dozen ideas for the motivation of a murderer, but none for a romance.’

Her dark blue eyes, the colour of midnight, watched him as she waited for his return shot.

But he didn’t have one. He understood what she meant. Since Lily had left him he hadn’t been in the mood for romance either. There had been other women, but it was never the same. He wasn’t the same. He’d never found a woman he could trust since Lily. And, of course, he hadn’t been able to trust her in the end, either.

Just as his father had always warned him.

Reminded of his father—the father who had raised him after his mother had left them both—Jack remembered the files on his laptop and the information on the USB stick in his pocket, which he now fancied he could feel burning through his jeans. Uneasiness grew in his gut and he washed it away with another sip of Shiraz.

‘Better not let David hear you say that,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘David Parks. You’re seeing him, aren’t you?’

Parks was a tech billionaire. Jack understood that he and Lily had been dating for quite a while now.

‘He wouldn’t get touchy about something like that. He’s a very practical man.’

‘Sounds romantic.’

She cleared her throat. ‘I don’t want to talk about David.’

‘Trouble in paradise?’

‘I just don’t want to talk about him with you. It doesn’t seem right.’ She studied the base of her wine glass, spun it carefully on the tablecloth.

He studied her more closely now. She’d pressed her full lips together. Lily was right. And she was right to be discreet. He knew from bitter experience what could happen if you weren’t.

So Jack asked after Lily’s mother, and her sister, Ruby, and she gave polite, perfunctory answers. They were well, she said. They both still lived in San Jose.

The only time her face came to life was when she spoke about her baby niece. Her eyes sparkled and her nose crinkled as she told him how Georgia was six months old and smiling and giggling. Seeing Lily let down her guard like that made something in Jack’s chest loosen. He smiled as she told him a story about watching her niece try solid food for the first time. Then, as though she’d suddenly remembered who she was talking to, the wall came back up.

Jack noticed she didn’t ask him about his father.

‘Do you miss acting?’ he asked.

She looked down, took another sip of wine, and shrugged.

That wasn’t an answer; it was a rebuff. Acting had been her passion, her life, and he’d never understood why she’d given it up so abruptly. A small, niggly part of him wondered if it had had anything to do with him, but he didn’t allow himself to dwell too long on that. Lily was a grown intelligent woman, in charge of her own choices. He hadn’t been able to influence her ten years ago, and he figured he had even less of a chance of doing so now.

But he wanted to know the answer to his question.

‘Do you ever regret giving it up?’

‘I don’t think regret is a very useful emotion.’

Her words were heavy with ambiguity. Was she talking about her acting career or their marriage? And if it was the latter did she not regret being with him? Or not regret the way their marriage ended?

‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ he said, regretting his curiosity before she’d even answered him.

‘I made a decision that seemed like the best one at the time. I wouldn’t be who I am today if it hadn’t happened.’ She waved her hand around, as though suggesting that what she really meant was, I wouldn’t be who I am today if we hadn’t happened.

‘I decided to put it all behind me years ago,’ she continued.

Jack’s chest tightened. What did that mean? It had never occurred to him that Lily’s career-change had been anything other than her decision, but now guilt clawed at him.

She stood and picked up her plate, then his. He watched her as she carried them to the sink.

The dip from her bust to her waist to her hip was more pronounced than it had been the last time he’d seen her. She wasn’t larger—not at all. Just softer. Squeezable, not breakable. As an actor, she’d had to control her weight very strictly, losing it or gaining it—usually losing it—for whatever role she was playing.

Now she had settled into her natural weight and she seemed much more comfortable, more confident than she had ever been as a toned but slightly tense woman in her early twenties.

What had happened to her over the years? What had her life been like after him? Had she been happy? Was she happy with David? Did he treat her well? Why had she come all this way without him? Why couldn’t she stay and work in Monterey?

Watching the woman in front of him move around the kitchen, stacking the dishwasher, doing simple everyday things, he suddenly missed her. Missed her more than he had in years—nearly as much as he’d missed her in the weeks and months after they’d separated.

He missed not knowing her all these years. Not knowing the things she’d done, the people she’d known, the things that had happened in her life. The stresses, the victories. The small, happy moments.

Just then, Lily turned and looked at him. She clutched a dishcloth in her hands and twisted it slightly. She opened her mouth and he waited for her to speak, but no words came out. Then he noticed she’d cleaned up the whole meal while he’d just sat there and gawked at her.

Lily couldn’t remember ever having a more awkward meal in her life. First there had been that weird small talk, though she supposed she should’ve been grateful that Jack had been able to think of things to say to her as there was nothing she wanted to say to him. Well, nothing polite anyway.

And then he’d asked about David, and she hadn’t known what to say. She didn’t want to talk about her relationship with David—or rather their break-up. But she hadn’t meant to lie about it. Tomorrow, when Jack went back to civilisation and a phone signal, he’d find out that she and David were no longer a couple and he’d know that she hadn’t told him the truth.

Did it matter if he did? She wasn’t sure.

And now there was the odd way he was watching her as she cleared away the dishes. If she hadn’t known better she might have thought he was eyeing her up, even though his tone and the questions he’d peppered her with all through dinner had made it perfectly clear he was still clinging to a grudge as big as his family fortune.

As ever, he couldn’t acknowledge that he might have something to apologise for himself.

Maybe you were checking him out a little as well?

Maybe...but only to see if the passage of time had ravaged his features beyond description.

Sadly, no, it hadn’t.

His straight dark hair was cut shorter at the back and sides and left longer on the top. His cleanly shaven chin was still bisected by the same crease that had once mesmerised her.

She closed the dishwasher and pressed the start button. She had to get him out of this cabin before she started reminiscing too much.

‘The snow will probably stop overnight, so I’m sure you will be able to leave in the morning,’ he said.

‘It won’t be me leaving,’ she replied firmly.

What was his problem? Why was he being so stubborn? Clearly he found this whole situation as uncomfortable as she did. She had to stay—though she wasn’t about to tell him why.

Yet another one of my relationships has bitten the dust, and I want to avoid the media fallout. No, thank you.

Shoulder surgery? He could go anywhere to recuperate from that. Why didn’t he just go to his father’s place on Martinique? The Thorpes had holiday homes on every continent. He could go anywhere on earth.

‘I was here first.’ He grinned.

Spoken like a true Neanderthal. ‘That tactic might work in business, but it won’t work on me.’

Jack’s nostrils flared. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Stubbornness...inability to compromise. Threats. This isn’t a business transaction. It’s a deeply awkward social situation.’

The whites of Jack’s eyes reddened. ‘That isn’t how I do business,’ he muttered through clenched teeth.

‘Whatever... Why can’t you just be the one to give?’

He pushed his chair back and stood, glared at her through narrowed eyes. His jaw tensed so hard it looked as if he might crack a tooth.

‘Maybe the same reason you can’t?’

She threw the dishcloth down. ‘Thank you again for dinner. Goodnight.’

She could make herself perfectly comfortable in her part of the house. If he didn’t want to be around her, he could be the one to leave. She knew from previous bitter experience that Jack didn’t like to be told he was wrong.

Lily left without a further glance and rushed back to her room. Only once the door was closed behind her did she realise her heart was racing. She fell, face-first, onto the bed and punched the pillow. She’d thought she knew how she felt about Jack.

No, you made a decision to stop thinking about Jack. It’s not the same thing. You made that decision for the sake of getting on with the rest of your life. You made that decision because if you hadn’t you’d still be obsessing about what happened in those few short weeks after the wedding. You made that decision so you’d stop blaming Jack. And, most of all, so you’d stop blaming yourself.

One thing she did know, even if Jack didn’t, was that they were both to blame for the break-up of their short marriage. And something else she knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, was that Jack still blamed her. Entirely.

They were different people now—they might as well be strangers—and they had to deal with this situation. He’d leave the cabin when he realised she wasn’t going to. And he’d have to put up with her in the meantime.

But first a shower. To wash the journey away. And the smell that seemed to have settled on her after arriving in the mountains. The cabin smelt different with Jack here. And what was worse it wasn’t a bad smell. Not remotely.

It was the same scent he’d had all those years ago. It was like visiting her mother’s house and being transported back to her childhood. Smelling Jack, being in the same room as him, was like going back half a lifetime. All her memories of him slammed back into her consciousness. The places they’d gone...the things they’d done. The things they’d planned to do.

As she showered and slipped on her pyjamas, an uncomfortable ache started to grow inside her. It curled from her belly and began to claw at her chest. Bitter and sad. It was the adventures they’d never been on, the trips they’d never taken, the house they’d never built. The children they’d never had.

The ache grew, and she clutched her hands to her stomach.

This morning she’d been mourning the loss of one relationship. Now she felt as if she was mourning two. And all it took was a few quick thoughts and she was suddenly questioning all the choices she’d made over her life: the jobs she’d taken and the ones she hadn’t. The men she’d dated. The ones she hadn’t.

She was stuck in a remote cabin with her ex-husband. Somewhere along the way she’d taken a wrong turn—but when?

Had it been when she gave up acting? No. Maybe... At the time it had felt like she didn’t have a choice. Jack—or rather his father—controlled the biggest media and entertainment companies in the world. The rumours that had swirled about her and why she’d broken up with Jack had been suffocating. Producers had become wary of working with the woman who had been shunned by John Thorpe and his son. Not all of them, but enough.

If the rumours and lies had simply been in the papers she might have been able to cope. But her colleagues and co-stars had whispered about her. Speculated about what had happened right in front of her. Most days it had felt as though no one was on her side. The emotional strain had led to physical pain. Stomach ailments. Persistent insomnia. Too much weight loss. Even her hair had begun to fall out.

It had been easier just to walk away from it all. Yes, she sometimes regretted her decision, because some days it still felt like the Thorpes had won. But whenever that happened she reminded herself to go easy on her twenty-two-year-old self. The pressure of being in the public eye was hard enough when one of the richest families in America was on your side. But when they were against you...? Lily hadn’t stood a chance.

Of course she’d been sad about giving up acting: she’d loved telling stories, expressing herself. But when it had become too hard to get dressed or to leave the house she had tried writing, and had been eternally grateful to find she was actually good at it. Slowly and surely she had found her niche, and a new place in the world.

Was dating David where it had all gone wrong? David was a nice, interesting, successful man, who’d turned out to be a commitment-phobe. Had David made a mistake? Or had the error been hers, for not asking sooner what he wanted from their relationship? For not telling him sooner that, for her, children were non-negotiable?

Had the mistake been in her twenties, when she’d dated a string of men she didn’t love—had known she could never love—because then she couldn’t get hurt?

Or had Jack been her big mistake all along? If the conversation they’d had that day in Beverly Hills had gone another way would everything have been different? What if she’d been more persuasive? Managed to get him to see her point of view? What if he hadn’t found her with Drake?

But she hadn’t, and he had, and it had all played out the way it had.

There was no point dwelling on the ‘what ifs’ because it was done. It wasn’t like one of her books. There was no misplaced letter that might resurface and explain away their separation as a misunderstanding. There was no long-lost relative ready to appear and reveal some secret about the past that could have saved their marriage.

No. There was nothing that could transform their break-up into anything else. They had both made mistakes. They had both done the wrong thing. They had both hurt each other.

Their marriage had ended because of what he’d said. And because of what she’d done next.

The life they’d planned remained unlived, and Jack Thorpe still smelt like expensive aftershave and freshly baked bread. Every one of her pores seemed to open up in an effort to suck in all that glorious scent. And the only air that could fill her lungs was the same air he breathed.

She should hate him.

She should loathe him.

But when it came down to it Lily knew exactly how she felt about Jack Thorpe. She just didn’t like it.

Lily unpacked her computer and her papers. She was there for a reason—she hadn’t lied about that—and she needed to finish her book. She would just have to do what she’d been doing with her thoughts of Jack Thorpe for the past ten years: push them to one side. Even if he was less than fifty feet away, she would bury her feelings underground and then build a wall around her heart for good measure.

Unfortunately there was no desk in this room. She’d planned on just setting herself up across the kitchen table, but her lap would have to do. She pulled the curtains wide open, to see if the snow was easing. Outside, the wood was pitch-black. An ambient light, no doubt coming from one of the rooms on the other side of the house, cast an eerie pale glow that was mostly swallowed by the vast blackness of the trees and the snow.

Sometime later the light went out, but Lily didn’t notice. She typed and typed until her fingers could no longer type. She typed about a woman suspected of murdering her ex-husband.

CHAPTER THREE

SLEEP WAS NEVER going to come easy. Jack had one of the most important decisions in his life to make. And that was even without his gorgeous ex-movie-star ex-wife in the other wing.

He wouldn’t think about Lily—she’d be gone soon—but his other problem was going to take more than a set of snow chains to fix.

Most decisions came easily to Jack—which was fortunate, since he spent his days making hundreds of decisions, some big, some small. But never quite like the one he had to make now.

It was still dark when he gave up trying to sleep and switched on his laptop. Daisy lifted her head and looked at him with half-open eyes, before exhaling and laying her head back down to sleep.

He had a few years’ worth of deals to look at and he might as well start now. He scrolled through the files, the transactions, but nothing struck him as out of the ordinary. It might be because everything was above board. Or it might just mean that someone had done a very good job of covering their tracks.

Just after dawn, Daisy started whimpering by his bed. The sun was barely up, but they were both still on New York time. Daisy needed to go out.

Jack looked out of the window and made a quick assessment of the temperature. It was not snowing at present, but it might be about to. He grabbed his coat and put on his big boots.

He had hoped to find a chance to have some long hikes around Wawona meadow with Daisy and thinking space—not to be cooped up in the cabin for days. He did his best thinking on his feet, while moving. He walked everywhere he could in New York; he wasn’t a fan of driving and absolutely eschewed limos.

Still, you couldn’t get up a really good pace on New York’s sidewalks, and there was only so many times you could walk around Central Park. LA was worse—the least walker-friendly city in the world—but here you could walk for ever with eye-wateringly beautiful scenery to boot.

As soon as he opened the door Daisy took off down the drive. The trails were covered in a few inches of clean snow and the road hadn’t been ploughed. He decided to walk the two miles to the next junction, to see how that road was looking and whether a plough had come through yet.

The snow wasn’t deep, but it had frozen into ice overnight. Neither of them could drive out with the road like this. But the alternative was spending a whole day trapped in that cabin with Lily and her judgemental stares.

Jack tilted his head up to the clouds. They were still thick and dark, and the sun was struggling to push its rays through them. There was more snow to come; he could smell it. Even if it didn’t snow again, with temperatures this low the snow already blanketing the ground wasn’t going anywhere fast.

He made slow but steady progress along the trail that connected the cabin with the road. Once he reached it he saw with dismay that the ploughs hadn’t been through. He hadn’t expected them to come down the trail, but there were a few other cabins out along this loop.

Maybe later today.

You could get your car out of here if you really wanted to. It’s a high-performance car.

Yeah, but not on ice.

Was he really going to risk his own neck just to avoid spending a day or two alone with Lily? He sighed. No. She’d already destroyed his heart; he wasn’t letting her get the rest of him just out of stubbornness.

The air was still, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had known such silence. He could be the only person in the world. The rest of the world could drop away and he wouldn’t know. Jack Thorpe, alone. Physically and metaphorically.

How had he not seen what his father was doing earlier on? How much damage had he done? Was the business salvageable? Was anything salvageable? Or was it all merely a terrible mistake?

He had tried to convince himself that it was the latter. A misunderstanding. But then he remembered his father’s words.

‘Things are bad right now; life is tougher than it used to be. We have to adapt, Jack. Sometimes it’s okay to take a shortcut or two.’

The cold air stung his lungs. To the west, the sky was dark—and not because it was barely dawn.

‘There’s more snow on the way, girl,’ he said to Daisy, who wagged her tail and danced through the snow as she explored and foraged.

He smiled. He loved this dog. He’d loved all his dogs, but Daisy was special. He’d never had to share Daisy and her affections with anyone. Daisy was loyal. Well, dogs were loyal. People—not men, and definitely not women—were not.

Soft, cold, white flakes started to flutter before his eyes. One landed on his cheek.

Three days ago the air in Manhattan had still been heavy with humidity, the summer still refusing to depart. His office window looked out from the fiftieth floor over Central Park and beyond to the East River. He’d been looking over the financial records for a newspaper group his father was trying to convince the board to buy. In Jack’s opinion, Western State Media was a dud: it was barely turning a profit. Even if John Thorpe had negotiated to purchase it for a steal, it would still be a retrograde step.

Jack and his father agreed to disagree on the subject of traditional media—or ‘legacy media’, as Jack called it. Thorpe Media had made its money from newspapers, then television. Jack knew they should be looking at new and emerging opportunities in the digital world. His father was still wedded to paper, radio and television.

John Thorpe was planning on presenting the purchase of Western State Media—a legacy media group covering three western states—to the board at the next meeting. As Jack had looked through the papers that day, he’d wondered again how his father had negotiated the low purchase price.

Jack’s assistant had brought him his signing mail and his second cup of coffee of the day. There had been some deeds he had to sign, and under those papers a cheque for his signature. Jack had picked it up and turned it over. It had had a name on it: John Thorpe.

Jack was really John Thorpe. His father was John Thorpe. His grandfather and his great-grandfather before that had also been John Thorpe. But Jack had always been Jack. ‘John Thorpe the Fourth’ sounded ridiculous, so he was only ever John on property deeds. And his marriage certificate. And cheques.

The cheque had been made out to Luc Harmon, a notorious paparazzo who often took big money shots. Jack had been about to call his assistant back but then had thought better of it. Clearly he was not meant to have seen this cheque. Someone at Thorpe Media had made a mistake. And it wasn’t his assistant...

Daisy barked. He should get back to the cabin. And Lily. Hopefully she’d be awake by now, so he could give her the bad news that it was unsafe to drive. The house, as large as it was, was not big enough for both of them, but somehow they’d have to manage.

The Lily he’d known had been chatty and vibrant; this Lily was quiet, and had learned the trick of shutting up and waiting for someone else to say something stupid first.

Maybe she was entitled to.

Maybe she had been right about one thing all along.

Back at the cabin, there was no sign of her. He took off his boots and in socked feet, as quietly as he could, walked to the door to the lower wing. He leant his ear against it. Nothing.

He shouldn’t care. She was probably writing, and he had things to do himself.

Jack made himself a coffee and pulled out his laptop to continue going over the major acquisitions made by Thorpe Media over the past five years.

Would five years be enough? Or did he have to go back even further?

Even as he perused the financial records, he kept one ear out for any sound in the lower wing of the cabin.

There was nothing.

Jack shut his laptop lid and stood. He checked the time. Two-thirty. He flicked the clock on the oven with his index finger and glanced outside. The snow was falling heavily now, and Lily still hadn’t emerged.

Not that he was in a hurry to see her, but was she seriously going to hide in her room until the snow melted or she starved to death? If something did happen to Lily, and she was found dead in a remote cabin with her ex-husband—well, it wouldn’t look good for him, would it? Who would believe Lily had died of natural causes?

It would certainly take the focus away from the scandal his father was about to face. Yeah, that would be right. His father would get away with everything and Jack would find himself wrongly accused of murder.

He laughed cynically, a deeply wicked cackle rippling up his throat. That would be typical. Bloody typical.

‘What’s so funny?’

Jack jumped. Lily stood at the kitchen door and rubbed her eyebrows with her fingers. Her long dark hair was tousled and one cheek was redder than the other. He’d bet if he touched her she would still be warm from bed. A loose T-shirt hid her shape, but he could tell by the way it hung off her bare shoulder she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath.

‘I’m going to get some breakfast,’ she said.

‘Bit late for that, isn’t it?’

He wasn’t sure why he’d snapped like that—probably because he’d been sitting in this kitchen ever since he’d got back from his walk, waiting for her to come out of her room.

‘Yes, Mom. I worked late. Or early. I only just got up.’ She spied the coffee machine. ‘Mind if I get some coffee?’

Without waiting for an answer, she stepped past him into the kitchen and the air around him shifted as she moved to the coffee machine. Summer. She smelt like peaches. Or cherries. Or both.

‘Can I make you one too?’ she offered, but when she touched the handle he knew she would feel it was warm to the touch. ‘Oh, you’ve made some.’

Yeah, about four hours ago.

‘Help yourself; there’s plenty.’

Lily poured her coffee and took it over to the table with her laptop under one arm. She sat on the opposite end of the table to where his identical-looking computer sat and set hers down, opening the lid. Lily started to type and Jack could only stare at her.

She was just going to wander in, help herself to coffee and then set herself up at the kitchen table like she owned the place?

Her skin was bare, her cheeks a shade paler than the day before. Her eyes were free from make-up and she looked...younger. Prettier. A memory of her on their brief honeymoon in Paris flashed back into his consciousness. She was standing by the Seine, hair blowing in the breeze. He was realising he was the luckiest man who had ever lived.

He shook the memory away.

Knowing what he did now, he had some regrets about how their marriage had ended. Not that his behaviour had caused the break-up, only that maybe he shouldn’t have been so quick to disagree with her about his father. She was still the one responsible for ending their marriage.

But, even so, he wondered for one crazy second if he could talk to Lily about what his father appeared to have done. If he could ask her advice.

No, that wouldn’t help. Jack knew exactly what she would say, and the answer would not be helpful. He might also open himself up to recriminations about the past. After their conversation last night, it was clear she still blamed him for their break-up. Entirely. And, while he could now accept that he might have played a part in it by not going to her sooner, he was certainly not going to accept the blame entirely, as she seemed to expect him to.

This problem with his father was something he had to figure out all by himself.

Alone.

Not with Lily sitting at the kitchen table wearing a thin T-shirt and baring the soft skin of her shoulder. Reminding him of the past. Of the way their bodies had fitted together as if they were designed specifically for that purpose. The magical sensation of her skin rubbing against his. Of how, whenever they’d looked at one another, the rest of the world had fallen away.

Jack had no intention of leaving Yosemite for at least another week. Without his presence at the vote it was possible the board would delay voting on the purchase of Western State Media until he got back. The problem wouldn’t go away in the meantime, but as long as he was here he couldn’t be contacted. He would have time to figure out what to do next. His father might also use the time to reconsider his position and do the right thing.

Lily stood and brushed past Jack, going back into the kitchen proper. The pores of his skin burned as though she’d touched him as she passed. But she hadn’t.

She went to the laundry fridge and returned with bread, butter and jam, and started fixing herself some toast. He was relieved she wasn’t about to starve to death, but she was making herself quite at home.

‘It’s snowing again. I don’t think either of us are going anywhere today. Or tomorrow.’

The smile she gave him was classic Lily, designed to melt hearts and minds. But he told himself he was long immune to it.

‘How’s the shoulder?’ she asked.

‘It’s fine,’ he mumbled.

What did someone who was recovering from rotator cuff surgery do? What couldn’t they do? If this place had the internet, he could look it up. But one of the reasons he came here was to be uncontactable.

Lily leaned her backside against the bench and lifted a slice of toast to her mouth. She rested it on her plump lower lip and her blue eyes regarded him, wide but steely. He knew he shouldn’t watch her perfect lips as she chewed, but he couldn’t help himself.

As she swallowed, the tip of her tongue flicked over her red lips. She walked back to the kitchen table with her toast and put the plate next to her laptop. ‘I’d like to work in here today. At the table.’

‘I’m already working here.’ Jack moved to his computer and stood behind it.

‘Oh? Doing what? I thought you were resting. Doctor’s orders.’

He couldn’t tell her exactly what he was doing. He couldn’t tell her what his father had done. Not when he hadn’t even decided what he was going to do about it himself.

‘I need the table. You can work downstairs. I think it’s the least you owe me.’

Lily nearly choked on her toast. When she’d regained her breath, she said savagely, ‘I owe you nothing.’ She said the last word as if intending to cut him.

He just shrugged. On this, they would never agree.

‘Do you seriously not remember how our marriage ended?’ she asked.

He instantly regretted bringing their divorce up, breaking the promise he’d made to himself not to.

Now, as much as he’d tried to forget it, the memory of that night flooded his thoughts. The sight of Lily with her arms and lips wrapped around those of her co-star—Drake Johnson—a man whose sex appeal wasn’t just legendary, it was iconic.

Jack wondered for an instant what ‘Drake the Rake’ was up to these days, and then realised with an inward smirk that he didn’t care. The main thing was, he wasn’t with Lily. She’d thrown away a marriage she’d claimed was the most important thing in the world to her for a brief affair with a co-star. It was clichéd and it was pathetic.

But what had he expected? His father was right; actresses could not be trusted.

‘I remember everything.’ His voice was lower than he’d intended, and the air in the room suddenly became thick.

‘I’m sure you think you do.’

Her eyes were rimmed with red, but he couldn’t tell if it was from fury or sadness. They faced each other over the table, behind their respective computers.

She leant forward, just a fraction. ‘I don’t know if you’re lucky or unfortunate to just see things in black and white, but my world is made up of shades of grey. I don’t think our marriage ended because of one thing. I know it was more complicated than that. We were different people, from different backgrounds, with very different expectations.’

The calmer and more rational she pretended to be, the angrier he became. ‘Expectations? Yeah, I didn’t expect my wife to sleep with another man six weeks into our marriage.’

Lily sucked in a sharp breath. ‘I didn’t sleep with him,’ she said in a whisper.

‘So you say.’

‘I’m not even going to respond to that. Maybe one day you’ll realise that this is the reason our marriage ended. Not because of Drake, but because you never listened to me. And you certainly didn’t trust me. Oh, and the fact that you announced our divorce before you’d even listened to my side of the story didn’t help either.’

He’d found his wife of six weeks with another man; of course he was going to divorce her.

The tension in the room was crushing his ribcage. He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs and his head was light. He knew what he’d seen and that was enough for him. Did it matter how far they’d gone? One glance at that kiss had been more than enough to tell him their clothes would have been off within the minute if he hadn’t walked in. Lily wanted to argue over details, when the main point was that she had cheated on him.

Lily was leaning over the table now, placing her hands palm-down on it as she spoke. ‘You never listened to me,’ she repeated.

‘I did.’

‘So listen now.’

‘No. It’s ancient history.’

‘So it won’t matter if you listen to me then, will it?’

‘I don’t want to go over it again. The past is the past.’

Even if the past had just jumped up and slapped him across the face now, Lily and their marriage belonged to another life.

‘What are you afraid of hearing, Jack?’

Afraid? He didn’t want to hear the allegations he knew she was going to make about his father—the man he idolised, who’d taught him everything—but he wasn’t afraid.

‘I’m already set up here.’ He pointed at his things on the table.

Lily let out one of her musical laughs, notes of glee cascading down several scales. Anger and humiliation coursed through his veins, and yet something in his chest softened. Lily had the most remarkable laugh. Still.

‘Forget the table for a moment. I want you to listen to me. Hear me out.’

He couldn’t give her that. He stood with his arms crossed.

‘I have an idea,’ he said instead.

‘Oh, yeah?’

‘Yeah. A competition. For the table.’

Her left eye twitched. ‘I have an even better idea. A competition. You win, you get the kitchen table. I win, I get the table and you have to listen to me. Finally listen to why our marriage really ended.’

CHAPTER FOUR

‘DEAL,’ HE SAID.

Lily sipped her coffee slowly. Finally she would get Jack to listen to her side of the story. Finally he’d have to sit down, shut up, and hear what had really gone on all those years ago. Who cared if he believed her? She’d at least have the chance to have her say. The opportunity he’d denied her all those years ago.

What sort of competition? she wondered. If it was a battle of strength then of course he’d win; she was no match for his broad chest, tight abdomen, and thighs that were probably still strong enough to lift her and hold her against the wall behind her. But those days were far behind them. He would never again lift her effortlessly and press her against a wall as he caressed her with kisses...

Aware her gaze was stuck on his still-magnificent thighs, she lifted her eyes to his face. The smooth skin of his chin was this morning rugged with stubble. The soft lines of his jaw at twenty-something had hardened into powerful angles. Jack had always had good posture, and still did. He held his head perfectly upright, the muscles in his neck and arms clearly visible.

No, definitely not a battle of strength.

‘You’re supposed to be recovering from shoulder surgery. Or is that not true?’

She strongly suspected his excuse for needing to stay in the cabin was about as genuine as the one she’d given him, but she hadn’t gathered enough evidence to confront him about it yet.

‘Of course it’s true, and I think my shoulder can withstand a little battle of wits with you.’

His eyes fixed on hers, and the longer he looked at her, the more exposed she felt. Her cheeks warmed, and heat travelled from her face into her chest. She crossed her arms and let her gaze fall on the table in front of her. If she couldn’t win a staring contest with him, how was she supposed to beat him at anything else?

‘What did you have in mind? Toss a coin? Rock, paper, scissors?’

‘Tempting...but I think we could make it more interesting than that.’

‘They’re quick games; this could all be resolved in minutes.’

‘Yes, but...where’s the challenge in that? Wouldn’t you prefer to beat me? Actually best me with your skill, not just with dumb luck?’

He was annoyingly right. Rock, paper, scissors was barely better than a coin-toss.

Like all good holiday cabins, this one had a well-stocked games shelf. Board games, cards... Jack caught her looking at it.

‘I do have work to do. I don’t have time for games,’ she protested.

‘I told you—it’s snowing again and as of four hours ago the ploughs hadn’t come through. You’re stuck with me for a while yet.’

She was trying not to think about that. Being stuck with Jack. With his strong arms and that delicious fragrance that made her mouth water.

Battle of wits? Lily stood and moved to the games shelf to get a better look.

‘Scrabble?’ she asked.

‘Against a bestselling author? I don’t think so.’

‘Chicken,’ she jeered.

‘Monopoly, then?’ he said.

‘Oh, please... If Scrabble against the author is out, so is Monopoly against the billionaire mogul.’

He clutched his chest in faux pain. It was a vulnerable gesture, one he’d used to make when they were dating and which was still strangely adorable. She pushed the memory aside. He was a different person now. She was a different person now.

‘It should be something we both agree on.’

Jack joined her at the shelf. His scent made her nose twitch. She didn’t want to breathe him in, but apparently her nose did. He wasn’t wearing aftershave today, and smelt somehow of the fresh woods outside.

He picked up a deck of cards, shook them out of the box and flicked his thumb across them. The sound of the cards flipping against each other vibrated in her stomach. He looked at the cards intently, then looked down at her. His pale blue stare pricked her chest. They’d played cards a few times. Early on in their relationship. A game of strip poker might have led to one of their first times in the bedroom... If she remembered correctly, they’d both played to lose.

‘Not cards,’ she whispered, and he placed them back on the shelf without a word. ‘What about Trivial Pursuit?’ she asked, mostly to distract herself from memories of that game of strip poker. Of her unbuttoning his shirt and running her tongue over his hard nipples. Of him pulling down her panties with his teeth. Of the way their satiated bodies had tangled together afterwards, still pulsating, gasping with pleasure.

Lily watched Jack’s long index finger hover over the box that held a chess board. ‘How about chess? I was school champion,’ she lied. She couldn’t play chess to save her life and hoped her bluff would pay off.

It did.

‘All right, then. Trivial Pursuit. You weren’t the school champion of that, I assume?’ He pulled the game off the shelf.

As far as she could remember they’d never played it together, so there was no baggage on that account. But, more importantly, she was a whizz at Trivial Pursuit. She’d always loved trivia—and you didn’t write fifteen novels without picking up lots of pieces of semi-useless information. Jack, to the best of her admittedly outdated knowledge, was not a trivia buff at all.

‘I haven’t played it in ages.’ Not since last month anyway. ‘It’s not really my thing.’ A total lie.

‘It’s not my thing either, so we’ll be as bad as each other.’

He smiled his goofy smile and her stomach did a backflip. What was it about Jack that made him all ruthless billionaire one moment but with one lopsided grin turn back into the kid who’d stolen her heart?

If he was a stranger she’d step towards him right now and see how he reacted. If he didn’t step back, she’d take another step forward, and so on and so on, and then she might lift her heels to stand on her toes and press her yearning lips against his.

The hair on his head was dark brown—the colour of the trunks of the sequoia trees outside—but the stubble appearing on his cheeks was golden as it caught the light. His square jaw was perfectly straight, but for the dimple in the middle.

His cheeks had been smooth when they’d got married... A lifetime ago, when she was another girl.

If only they could meet as strangers. If only she had yet to learn how perfectly her hand fitted in his. How perfectly her head rested against his shoulder and how perfectly their bodies fitted together in every respect.

Her body clenched at the memory.

They weren’t strangers—and not even a decade apart could change that.

She wasn’t made of stone. Or even wood. She was a living, breathing woman with needs and wants—and apparently an awkward overreaction to Jack Thorpe’s presence. That he was good-looking was hardly up for debate. But she’d been around good-looking men before. Heck, she’d acted with some of Hollywood’s hottest men and met many more besides. But none of them had managed to inspire the same rush of hormones, the same disorientating, crazy-making, can’t-control-her-own-limbs response that Jack Thorpe had always aroused in her.

It was latent memories—that was all. Of when they’d first met. Of their two years together. Two years when they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other. Two years when her body had ached every moment she wasn’t with him.

That time belonged to the life of another person. Even though, according to the rest of the world, they were the two years that still defined her.

‘Let’s play, then.’

She would beat him. Thrash him. Make him wish he’d never heard of Yosemite. Or Trivial Pursuit. But she had to play it cool.

‘You get some work done,’ he said. ‘I’ll cook an early dinner and then we’ll play. Since I’m a gentleman, I’ll let you use the table first. It’ll be the last time you use it.’ He grinned.

‘How generous of you.’

From this evening the table would be all hers. And Jack would understand, once and for all, how wrong he’d been about her and what he’d thrown away because of his pride.

Jack waited until he was in his room before releasing the smile he’d been containing for the past five minutes.

Trivial Pursuit. Ha!

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d lost a game. Maybe never? His veins pumped with excitement. But the satisfaction he felt at tricking Lily into playing a game she was sure to lose faded when he remembered the rest of their conversation.

How could she imply that he was the villain? That he was somehow to blame for their divorce? She was the one who’d traded saliva with Drake Johnson. He hadn’t made her do it. Sure, there were some things about his marriage to Lily that he regretted. Some things that now, with hindsight, seemed like a mistake.

But she was the one in the wrong, wasn’t she? What she’d done was unforgivable, wasn’t it?

He punched one of the large pillows on his bed, but that did nothing to release the frustration pumping through his veins. There was a scratching at the door, and he opened it to let Daisy join him. He rubbed her head, but the walls still moved in on him.

He hadn’t come here to stay inside all day. He’d come to hike until his legs ached and breathe fresh air until he’d blown the smog and dust from New York out of his lungs. Instead snow a foot deep was banked up at the door.

‘So, Daisy, girl, what are we going to do?’

Daisy nuzzled him. At least he wasn’t talking to himself. And Daisy’s response made more sense than his father’s.

John Thorpe’s response to Jack’s questions had been inadequate, to say the least.

The cheque to Luc Harmon had been strange, but Jack might not have even mentioned it to his father if the chairman of Western State Media hadn’t suddenly died.

CHAPTER FIVE

LILY OPENED HER laptop and read over the last scene she’d written before she’d passed out at some point after six a.m. Argh! It hardly made any sense all. What had she been thinking when she wrote it?

She sighed. She knew exactly what she’d been thinking about.

Or rather, who.

The Jack she’d once known had been little more than a boy, with a boy’s openness and a straightforward sweetness that was mostly missing now. Now he was guarded, cynical and darkly suspicious. His features had hardened, just like his heart. His lean shoulders had filled out somehow. His legs, while never weak, now seemed more strongly rooted to the ground, demonstrating his stubbornness.

Why was he still denying her a chance to tell him what had happened, even now?

But even though he was different, somehow he still smelt the same. He wore the same aftershave—a classic. The last word in Fifth Avenue luxury. Sandalwood, ylang-ylang and fresh citrus. That aftershave and a secret dash of what made Jack uniquely Jack. Smell was the most evocative of the senses, and it transported her back to a time like no other.

It had been a meet cuter than fifty golden retriever puppies.

Her career had been going better than she’d ever allowed herself to dream. Not that she’d had very long to think about how it might develop. She’d only been seventeen when she’d been picked up for the sitcom My Crazy Life, and that show’s runaway success had surprised everyone—not least its young star, who had gone from Hollywood hopeful to household name within a year.

The show had been running for three years and she’d been getting used to living in LA. It had been a world away from her upbringing in San Jose with her mother and sister. They hadn’t been poor—her mother said they were ‘established working class’—but they were still a totally different species to the Jack Thorpes of the world.

Things had been good, but the day she’d met Jack it had felt like someone had pressed fast-forward on her life and in the space of two hours changed it for ever.

Meredith Baker had been Lily’s agent for about a year back then. Meredith was a confident, extremely well-groomed, and slightly jaded woman. She’d only had a little experience as a celebrity agent when she’d first met Lily. But Lily had trusted her. Meredith hadn’t been patronising, like her last agent, and she hadn’t tried to mother her like the one before that. Meredith had understood instinctively who Lily wanted to be and the career she was looking for. And Meredith had made it her mission to help Lily get it.

Over lunch one day at the swankiest restaurant du jour, Soleil, Meredith had told Lily she’d been offered a three-movie deal for a sum that was so large it had been almost meaningless to Lily. With her head still spinning from that meeting, Lily had walked out to the car park of the Beverly Hills restaurant. A silver Aston Martin had been parked next to her Ford, which was not unusual. What was unusual was that leaning against the car, wearing shorts, flip-flops, a loose white shirt and dark glasses, was Jack Thorpe.

She’d never met him before, but his silhouette was familiar to every woman in the world with a pulse. He’d lifted his sunglasses when she’d approached and hesitated a moment before approaching her with supplicating hands.

‘Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could ask a favour.’

‘Oh?’

Even though it happened regularly these days, Lily was still not used to strangers approaching her for selfies and autographs. And this was Jack Thorpe—a man more famous than her ten times over. A man who, with hindsight, probably should have been using the valet parking service.

‘I’ve done something stupid,’ he confessed.

Lily laughed. He wasn’t after an autograph after all. ‘I’m sure you haven’t,’ she replied.

‘No, I have—really. It’s pretty embarrassing.’

He twisted one side of his mouth into a half-smile. The same look he’d go on to give her many times over the next two years. A look she’d never seen him give another person.

‘I managed to lock my keys in my car. And my phone. See—they’re sitting just there.’ He waved her over to his car window and pointed in.

Lily peered into the tinted glass and saw his phone sitting on the black leather seat. Standing next to him, she caught her first smell of the scent that would always remind her of Jack. Her stomach somersaulted.

‘Would you like to use my phone to make a call?’ she’d offered.

‘Only if that’s okay? I was about to go into Soleil, but I just left an awkward business meeting telling a person to take it or leave it, so it might spoil the effect if I walk back in now.’

She smiled again. It was physically impossible not to. Jack was so charming her insides were beginning to turn to mush.

He held out his hand. ‘Hi, I’m Jack.’

She appreciated he hadn’t assumed she knew who he was, his entire life story or approximate net worth. Even though there was hardly a woman alive who didn’t.

‘Nice to meet you, Jack, I’m Lily—Lily Watson.’ She extended her own hand and warmth slid from her shoulders to her toes as his large hand gently enveloped hers.

‘I know,’ he said, and grinned at her again.

When he smiled at her, his gorgeous face came into sharp focus and the rest of the world blurred into the background.

He made his call and handed back her phone. Then he kicked at the ground and asked, ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to have a drink with me while I wait for my friend to get here?’

Lily had supposed she would, and the drink had turned into dinner, and then another dinner, and then that strip poker game.

His self-deprecating demeanour had charmed her. She’d expected him to be more...alpha. But with her he’d just been a sweet guy, and he’d opened himself right up to her.

He was different around others, she’d observed. He’d used a completely different tone on the phone to his friend who had brought over the spare keys to his car, a different tone when speaking to his good friend Bradley. And a completely different tone altogether with his father.

Which was fine, Lily had told herself. She was special. Jack loved her like no other. So when he proposed it was the most natural thing in the world to accept. As far as she was concerned it was already settled that they would spend the rest of their lives together. There was no other option. Her fate had been sealed that day in the car park.

The sound of footsteps made her look up. Daisy walked in first, followed by her master. Heaven help her... How could his mere presence still make her body temperature rise like that? Despite her plans to write a couple of thousand words she’d just been staring out of the window into the snow, thinking of Jack.

She tried to concentrate while he moved around in the kitchen. Couldn’t. She hadn’t managed to write any new words; she’d only deleted some. This wasn’t going to work. She didn’t want to surrender the table, but she couldn’t concentrate and be in the same room as him.

She looked down at herself. She was still in the clothes she’d been wearing when she’d woken up: a T-shirt and a comfy pair of track pants.

‘I’m going to get changed for dinner,’ she said.

‘Take your time. It will be at least an hour.’

Back in her room, she set the computer on her lap and typed away. Not her best words, but she did start to lose track of time.

A knock at the door startled her.

The door opened slowly and there was Jack, carrying a tray. And on the tray was a steaming cup of coffee and some cookies.

‘Sustenance,’ he said, and placed it on the bedside table without another word.

She hadn’t been wrong. Jack had been good once. Maybe a part of him still was.

A short time later Lily showered and then assessed her limited clothing choices. Track pants, yoga pants, or the jeans she’d worn yesterday.

It had to be the jeans again. She paired them with a plain black T-shirt and looked at herself in the mirror. Her dark hair was clean, but un-styled. It fell around her shoulders in limp, uneven waves. She twisted it into a loose bun, but that made her bare skin look too stark. She undid the elastic and ran her fingers through her hair.

With the limited supplies in her small suitcase there was nothing much she could do about it. Ditto her bare skin. She found a lipstick in her handbag and applied a little of that, but that was the extent of her preparations.

He’s seen you, remember? And he’s seen you worse. He’s seen you after your grandmother died. He’s seen you hunched over a toilet bowl with food poisoning. A face bare of foundation and mascara isn’t going to scare him away. Besides, you don’t care what he thinks, do you? Your relationship with Jack is beyond irredeemable. It’s terminal. Fatal. Unrecoverable.

He’d even come right out and told her he hadn’t forgiven her for the incident with Drake. She’d seen by the way he’d clenched his fists and ground his jaw he was still furious about it. The fact that she’d kissed another man had struck him at his very core.

And it had been no more than a kiss, despite what Jack had thought and clearly did still think. Drake had been her co-star. Her friend. He had been so understanding about what she’d been going through with Jack’s father and her career.

Yes, it had been wrong. Yes, a better, stronger person would not have kissed another man.

But she hadn’t been a better, stronger person that night. She had been badly hurt and extremely vulnerable. And Jack hadn’t been there for her. He hadn’t even listened to her, let alone contemplated the fact that his father was deliberately trying to sabotage her career. But Drake had listened to her, and held her, and brushed her tears away when she’d cried.

Drake was not the reason her marriage had broken down. He had been a symptom, but not the cause. So it didn’t matter what she wore tonight, or whether or not she was wearing make-up. And it certainly didn’t matter that her pulse raced and her most private parts tingled when Jack was around. It didn’t matter that the scent of him made her head light and her heart soar.

With one last glance in the mirror and a shake of her head she went up to the kitchen. As she climbed the steps she made a mental list of no-go topics of conversation during dinner:

When they could leave the cabin.

Their previous relationship.

Their break-up.

That didn’t leave much else beyond the polite small talk they had already covered last night.

Lily glanced around the enormous room. The table was set, the kitchen clean. Jack Thorpe, billionaire, wasn’t a slob. The remnants of her late breakfast were all gone.

He’s playing house, that’s all. This is just another game for him.

Her nostrils twitched. He’d showered and changed. He wore a fine wool sweater, knitted in a blue that made his eyes dazzle. It looked soft to the touch, and she’d bet it would feel sublime beneath her fingertips.

‘Glass of wine?’

The man could give a boy scout a run for his money. She’d packed half a bottle of Scotch for shifting writer’s block and a bottle of champagne for the day her separation from David was announced. Jack seemed to have a brought a generous supply of Russian River’s best.

‘That’d be lovely. You really came prepared.’

He shrugged. ‘It’s hard to get good food and wine up here. I always make sure I’ve got more than enough.’

She accepted the wine and touched her fine glass lightly to his.

‘To shades of grey,’ he muttered.

She paused with her glass halfway to her mouth. Was that an apology? Or was it a dig at her earlier comment? He smiled and she felt it in her chest. She supposed it was as close to an apology she was ever going to get from Jack Thorpe.

Lily took her seat and realised she was starving. Jack presented her with a plump and perfectly seared fillet steak. On the table in front of her was a generous colourful salad and a perfectly baked potato. It was simple, good, well-cooked food.

The steak fell apart in her mouth. She tried not to groan in pleasure.

‘How’s the book going? Tell me to shut up if you’d rather not answer,’ he said.

When her writing wasn’t going well she hated that question, but after a surprisingly productive twenty-four hours she didn’t mind. ‘It’s going okay—better than it was. I still have a bit to go, and I’m struggling to figure out the final twist, but I’m feeling better about it than I was this time last week.’

Even if she was stuck in a cabin with her obstinate ex-husband.

‘Did you always want to write? I don’t remember that you did, but then maybe our memories aren’t as reliable as we like to think they are.’

Jack’s cutlery lay on the edge of his plate, and his palms were flat on the table as he waited for her answer. She looked at his eyes, brilliant blue against his sweater, and something inside her clenched. She looked quickly down to his jaw, but the sight of the dimple in the middle of his chin made her clench some more. Her gaze dropped to the defiant jut of his collarbone, pressed against the soft fabric of his sweater. She remembered that collarbone...remembered tracing it with her fingertips. And her lips.

She clenched again. This was very inconvenient.

‘I always made up stories, but acting was what I fell into. When I couldn’t do that any more...’

She wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him the real reason why she’d started writing. At least not yet.

He won’t believe you anyway...

When her pause dragged on for a second mouthful he prompted her. ‘Why did you stop acting?’

She narrowed her eyes and looked at him. His question had been so loaded she expected it to blow up in their faces, but he clearly wasn’t going to give up until she answered him.

‘I decided I didn’t want to handle all the rubbish any more. The attention...the fuss. The constant scrutiny.’

This was absolutely true. Not the whole truth, but she wasn’t lying. And later tonight, after she’d beaten him at Trivial Pursuit, he’d have to listen to everything anyway.

‘LD Watson is pretty famous.’

LD Watson was her pen name. Everyone knew it was her, of course, but initials were much more impersonal. LD Watson was her brand, leaving her free to just be Lily.

‘Writing is different. I work alone, wearing what I want, and I don’t need to worry about how I look.’ She waved her hands over her face. ‘Once a year I put on some proper clothes, do a book tour and face the cameras.’

‘That’s still publicity.’

She shook her head. ‘No. Maybe... It’s easier to handle for shorter periods, and it’s nowhere near as intrusive as acting. Besides, you know as well as I do I’m never going to be anonymous. I expect even on my deathbed someone will shove a camera in my face and ask me if I’m getting back with you.’

She worried that she’d said too much, but only for a second.

Jack laughed. ‘God, yes. Even death won’t stop the tabloids speculating about our reunion.’

‘They’ll have a “source” in heaven who will claim to have seen us together.’ She motioned inverted commas as she said ‘source.’

‘Jack-an’-Lil in Secret Heavenly Tryst!’ he added.

She laughed. Hard. The force of it loosened something in her chest and she laughed again. It felt good.

‘Can you imagine the frenzy if anyone found out we were both here? Alone? They’d never believe we’re not back together.’

The thought made her laugh again, and loudly. So loudly she wasn’t aware at first that Jack wasn’t laughing with her.

She caught her breath and explained, ‘Seriously, it would be ridiculous.’

‘Well, you’re with David, for starters.’

Lily paused for a moment too long before mumbling, ‘Yes, of course.’

She’d lied again. It shouldn’t feel wrong, but somehow it did. She didn’t owe Jack anything, much less honesty. When he’d refused to believe that his father had been trying to destroy her career he’d lost her trust. Completely.

Jack took another mouthful of steak and chewed it slowly and carefully. The look he gave her across the table was cold, and perhaps a bit hurt. What the heck was that about? She’d thought they were laughing about the constant speculation about their break-up. Someone had to. They’d cry otherwise.

There should be a rule that all ex-husbands were exiled to a distant planet to live out the rest of their days annoying each other. They shouldn’t be allowed to wander back into their ex-wives’ lives looking tall and handsome and rugged and delicious, getting grumpy when anyone laughed at the idea of them getting back together.

A moment later Daisy appeared at the table. She looked up at Jack, but Lily took a small piece of steak from her plate and held it out for the dog without Jack noticing. Daisy ate the steak gratefully and made herself comfortable at Lily’s feet.

‘She’s not the most loyal dog I’ve ever had,’ Jack muttered.

‘She can sit by me and still be loyal to you.’

Jack lifted both eyebrows in doubt.

‘A dog can be loyal to two people at once. A person can be too, for that matter,’ Lily said.

Most people could. But not Jack.

He looked to the living room and she followed his gaze. Trivial Pursuit had been set up on the coffee table by the fire.

The scene gave at least the appearance of being cosy.

‘You’ve been here before, haven’t you?’ he said.

‘You mean the cabin?’ she asked.

He nodded.

‘I started coming not long after Meredith and Bradley bought it,’ she told him.

Not long after we divorced.

‘You did? Me too.’

The air in the room was warm, and smelt of burning wood. ‘Bradley suggested it when...well, you know...’

Jack looked away. ‘It’s been my sanctuary from time to time too,’ he said.

It was like a part of her soul had been exposed. This had been her escape from the world. But they’d slept in the same bed, maybe only days or weeks apart. How could her haven be his too?

‘Up here it’s like another world...another planet. You can get away from everything, and you can also see what’s really important,’ he said.

‘Another universe...’ She sighed. ‘I’ve been up here many times to get away too. To be just me. Without pressures or expectations.’

‘Maybe it’s not so remarkable that we met each other here this time. Maybe it’s more remarkable that we didn’t run into each other until now.’ He smiled.

‘Maybe,’ she replied.

‘Maybe the time was finally right?’

What on earth was she meant to make of a remark like that?

She didn’t realise her eyes were wide with shock until she saw Jack’s expression harden into dismay, as though he hadn’t meant to make the last remark.

He cleared his throat and sipped his wine. ‘We should get this game started.’

She shouldn’t let Jack’s good qualities—and he did have some—outweigh out the bad. She exhaled with a pang in her chest. There had been good times. But that didn’t mean they needed to be friends now.

CHAPTER SIX

LILY TOOK A fortifying sip of wine. Just the one. She had to keep her wits about her, but one more sip wouldn’t hurt and it would settle her nerves.

She shouldn’t be nervous, yet little bubbles of anxiety simmered in her belly. She could beat Jack Thorpe at a game of Trivial Pursuit, no matter how confident he was pretending to be.

Jack has no idea about me, the life I’ve lived since he left me, the things I’ve learnt...

A fire smouldered in the fireplace, giving the vast room a comfy feel. She assessed the table where he’d set the game up. On which side did he plan to sit? Had he rigged the cards with the questions on them?

‘Take either side,’ he said. ‘And feel free to shuffle the deck of cards if you don’t trust me.’

She studied him closely. His eyes were open and honest. If she shuffled the cards, she’d show him she didn’t trust him. She’d also show him she was worried about winning. Ha! Even if Jack had spent the afternoon trying to memorise the questions in both packs, she would still beat him.

Lily sat on the floor by the table and curled her legs underneath her. Then she took another sip of wine. One more wouldn’t hurt.

He handed her the dice. She held her hand out to take it, but instead of dropping the dice, as she’d expected, he pressed it gently to her palm and held his fingers on her skin for a moment too long. His touch was warm, and obviously designed to unsettle her. Piffle. It was going to take more than a lingering touch and an intense stare to put her off her game.

But her hand still tingled as she shook the dice. Stupid, tingly sensations were moving up her arm, up her neck. Across the table Jack’s pink lips curled into a seductive grin. Even though she knew what he was doing, and even though she knew he was only doing it to unsettle her, her stomach flipped in anticipation.

Seriously? Was he so worried about losing this game of Trivial Pursuit that he’d bring out the famous Thorpe smile? Well, if he was going to play dirty, she could too. She pushed at her messy bun and then twirled her index finger around a loose strand of hair as she considered the board. Then she pouted.

It was the sexy stare she’d perfected when she’d still been acting. She hadn’t used it in years and hoped she wasn’t too rusty. Full lips, opened just wide enough to allow her to slide the tip of her tongue quickly over her teeth. She hoped she still had it. Hoped she was making him wonder what else she could do with her lips, not making him think she was slightly deranged.

She noticed Jack’s eyes dart from her face to the board, to the wall behind her and to his wine glass. Then, finally, reluctantly, they fell back on to her. His attention caught, she rolled the dice. A five.

Jack grabbed the dice and tossed it without delay. The dice rocked back and forth before landing with the six facing up. This time he looked at her without hesitation and gave her another one of his famous smiles. Expensive. Cocky. And full of the belief that he ruled the world.

Oh, she was going to enjoy winning this game very, very much.

The room was warm and the fire heated her skin. She kicked herself for not wearing the tank top she’d packed. Was it too late to go back to her room and change, so she could show more distracting skin?

Don’t be silly, Watson. You can thrash this man fair and square. You don’t need to resort to underhand tactics. Just because he’s so insecure he feels he needs to distract you by brushing his hand against yours, it doesn’t mean you need to undress.

Jack rolled a one and landed on a sports question. Her heart dropped, but she smiled as she took the card with the first question. Jack wasn’t just a sports nut he owned sports teams, for crying out loud.

And you’ve written bestsellers and stared in Oscar-winning movies. What’s your point, Watson?

‘“In which year did the Boston Red Sox break their eighty-six-year World Cup drought?”’ She sighed as she completed the question. Even she knew the answer to that.

Jack scratched his chin and looked at the ceiling. ‘Hmm...let me see,’ he murmured.

‘Give it up, Thorpe, you’re no actor.’

He clutched his chest in faux outrage.

‘You know the answer to this—just get it over with.’

‘2004.’

‘That wasn’t too hard, was it?’

Jack rolled again. A six this time, and a chance to try for a general knowledge token.

‘“What are the four main ingredients of cake?”’ she asked.

Jack’s eyes flicked to the ceiling, contemplated it for a few moments, then turned back to the table and met Lily’s. His generous lips didn’t break into a smile, but his eyes sparkled.

‘Flour...’

Lily nodded.

‘Sugar...’

Good guess.

‘Butter, of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘And...’

Jack rubbed his chin and looked around the room for effect. But Lily wasn’t fooled for a second. Her heart dropped as he answered.

‘Eggs.’

Eggs was right. All over her face.

She had completely underestimated him and would have to dial her distraction game up a notch, but it was hard to look diverting in her comfiest jeans and a nondescript T-shirt.

Luckily, some of her long-neglected acting techniques were not completely forgotten. She tipped back her head and ran her fingers through her hair. When that didn’t even make him blink, she tilted her face down and then looked up at him through her lashes. She threw in another pout for good measure. Then she let out a little sigh. The kind of sigh she might make involuntarily in the bedroom.

Jack’s eyes flicked over her, but he quickly grabbed the dice and rolled again. That was something. He’d landed on a neutral space and it was her turn.

She reached for the dice and he did at the same time. Her hand came to rest next to his. Their eyes met and she thought she saw a spark in his. When his thumb slid over the side of hers, she snatched her hand away. A pout and a sigh were one thing, but a second finger-graze in as many minutes...?

If that was how he wanted to play it, then fine. It would be at his risk. Because she was completely and utterly immune to Jack and his pathetic tricks.

Trivial Pursuit. Ha! Maybe he shouldn’t have lied to her and told her that it wasn’t his thing, but all was fair in trivia contests and war. Especially now she was twirling her hair, puffing her lips and giving him doe eyes. Did she really think he was going to fall for long soap opera gazes or romcom pouts? He might have tricked her into the game, but he’d win fair and square and get control of the kitchen table. And, most of all, he wouldn’t have to listen to Lily and whatever pathetic excuse she had for cheating on him.

It was funny that he’d never told her about the bar trivia nights he’d gone to when he was at Harvard. Tuesday Night Trivia at O’Connell’s. He smiled at the memory.

Although Lily was pretty good too. She wasn’t stupid—of course he knew that. But he was surprised. Still, he was currently leading four tokens to two.

‘“What did the Roman emperor Caligula order his soldiers to do instead of invading England?”’ he asked.

‘Collect seashells,’ she said, and rolled the dice without even waiting for him to tell her she was correct. She landed on a neutral space and the turn was back to him.

‘More wine?’ she asked.

They had drained their second glasses and he was feeling relaxed and confident, but not yet hazy. Lily, however, was smaller than he was, and a third glass might prove the difference for her.

‘Okay.’

He moved to get it, but she stood and waved him back down. Then she stretched her arms wide and unnecessarily high. As she did so her T-shirt rode up, giving him a long glimpse of the white skin of her taut stomach. She let out another one of her bedroom sighs.

As if he didn’t know what she was up to.

As if he didn’t recognise that sweet, lazy, contented sigh.

She was a fool if she thought he was going to somehow react to it. Even if it did remind him of long nights and lazy days spent wrapped around her glorious body, exploring her skin, breathing her in. That had been years ago. He was over Lily Watson. He had no intention of revisiting that particular place...even if he could feel familiar stirrings in his pants.

Not even then.

They were history.

And she had a boyfriend.

Do you think something might happen if she didn’t have a boyfriend? Thorpe, you’re a fool.

Lily bent over more deeply than necessary to pick up his wine glass. The coffee table was low to the ground, but still... He meant to look away—he didn’t intend to give her the satisfaction—but at the last minute his gaze was dragged towards her and he glanced down the front of her T-shirt. He saw a flash of red lace and the smooth, creamy flesh of her upper breasts.

His muscles tightened. That was a cheap shot, Watson.

When she turned to pick up her own glass she made sure her perfect bottom was facing him. When she bent, her jeans rode down, giving him a perfect view of her narrow waist, the velvety skin of her lower back, and another flash of red lace.

Low move, Lily, really low.

If those were the rules she wanted to play by, maybe there would be time to play a different game before she left in the morning? One where the participants ended up with no clothes on. Like the strip poker they’d played on their third date.

What had she said about this cabin being in another universe? Maybe they really could pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist. That there was no past, no future. Only now.

He exhaled. Don’t be ridiculous, Thorpe. Not Lily. How could you even contemplate it after what she did? You know you can’t trust her, a woman who ran into the arms of another man only six weeks after your wedding.

What had Drake given her that he hadn’t?

He didn’t necessarily want to blow his own horn, but all the feedback he’d received from past relationships had been overwhelmingly positive. Except from the woman refilling his wine glass in the kitchen now.

Lily came back with two wine glasses, both overly full. He smiled to himself. He’d let his glass sit there, but she was welcome to finish hers. She passed a glass to him, and as he took it he was careful to let his fingers linger over hers. Sparks rushed through his fingers, up his arm, and the blood in his veins fizzed. He found her eyes again, hoping to see that the touch had at least affected her the same way, but her smile was light. Nonchalant. As if she was completely unmoved. As if she wasn’t using every ounce of her self-control to keep her hands off him.

Jack took a sip of wine and forced himself to concentrate on the game.

His bladder was aching, but he wasn’t going to leave the board. He only needed two more tokens, and they were in his strongest categories: sport and entertainment.

Lily was two behind, so he shouldn’t stress. She’d given him a fright early on, when she’d correctly guessed the smallest bone in the body. But since then the game had stalled, with neither of them landing on another token square.

Lily rolled a two and landed on a square to win a sports token. She sighed audibly, high and squeaky, part-relief, part-trepidation. She’d lost her last go at a sports question. It was clearly her weak spot.

Jack picked up a card. ‘“Name the NFL player with the record for most touchdowns in a season.”’

‘Oh, I know!’ she blurted with spontaneous, unchecked glee. ‘It’s Trent Davison.’

Jack turned the card over. It said ‘Trent Davison’.

Lily squealed and grabbed the sports token with undisguised delight.

‘You’re correct, by the way,’ he said.

‘I know. I dated him,’ she added, by way of explanation.

Jack clenched his fists. He had met Davison once. He was a foot taller than Jack and quite a bit broader. Big. Big enough and talented enough to make even the most confident billionaire feel slightly inferior.

Jack might have been her only husband, but Lily had dated many men after him: movie stars, footballers and even a rock star. Not that he’d been paying attention. Okay, maybe he had. But only to enjoy the schadenfreude that inevitably followed when those relationships had ended.

Now she was dating David Parks, a tech entrepreneur from Silicon Valley. He was self-made, scarily smart, and well regarded. Though he hadn’t yet overtaken Jack on the Forbes List.

Jack hated himself for the thought. Lily was the last woman on earth who would compare men by where they were placed on the rich list. David was probably a better man than he. Attentive, reliable. Dependable.

Was David a keeper? Was she going to walk down the aisle again?

Somehow it had been a source of perverse pride to him that Lily had never remarried. But would David be the man?

How different would his own life have been if he was a better man? If he’d gone to her when he should have after her accusations about his father instead of hesitating? If they’d stayed together his life would have been more stable. Fuller. They’d probably have a family by now, of beautiful, precocious children. They would...

‘Earth to Jack?’ Lily waved a hand in front of his eyes. ‘Entertainment for a token.’

Entertainment was, not surprisingly, one of her strongest categories, but still he hoped the next question would be a doozy. It was, but for the wrong reasons.

He groaned. ‘“Name the three main stars of Some Like It Hot.”’

She chuckled to herself. ‘Monroe, Curtis and Lemmon.’

Jack didn’t even turn the card over to check the answer, but slipped it back in the box. Lily rolled again and found herself on a square for the geography token. Her third token attempt this round. If she got this right she’d overtake him.

‘“What is the largest living thing on earth?”’

He held his breath. He knew this. He thought Lily would too. They had once spent a week on a small island on the Great Barrier Reef. He had proposed to her on the perfect white sand as they’d watched the sunset.

For some reason he willed her to answer the question correctly. Even if it meant she’d be one step closer to winning.

‘The Great Barrier Reef,’ she said softly.

It was four tokens to five now, and she was on a roll. She tossed her hair and gave another faux stretch, this one coupled with a soft little sigh.

Jack reached for his wine glass.

Half an hour later, their fourth glasses were drained and they were both locked at the finish line in a sudden death contest. The first to get two correct answers in a row would win. Which also meant that the first to miss a question would probably lose.

Lily hadn’t missed a question—but neither had he.

The room was getting very warm. He’d thrown a new log on the fire and it had burst back into life. He had removed his sweater, leaving on only his white undershirt. He hadn’t removed it to show her his pecs, though he did admit that was a fortunate side effect of the heat in the room. Lily was trying hard not to look, but it was difficult for her to give him her ‘come hither’ eyes without actually looking at him.

Lily was fanning herself by pulling at the neckline of her T-shirt, being careful to stretch it lower and show him more flesh each time she did so. With each glimpse of the soft white skin of her chest his sweat pants tightened. Her body was as beautiful as it had been a decade ago, and he’d bet it felt just as good. His body also remembered her. His muscles shifted and braced with each move she made...each look she gave him through her eyelashes.

Stupid libido.

Being with Lily had been amazing, in the way love was when it was new and when you thought it would last for ever. The way it was when you took everything for granted a little. Even though you never quite meant to.

Jack landed on a science question and correctly named the symbol for carbon.

‘Why can’t you trust atoms?’ she asked.

He shrugged.

‘Because they make up everything,’ she quipped, with a smile that made his chest swell.

He realised with a jolt that he was having fun. Actual, good old-fashioned fun. He’d forgotten where he was, who he was with and what he was competing for.

If he lost he’d have to listen to Lily telling him what she thought his father had done to her. Listen to her saying what an awful husband he’d been to her.

What are you afraid of hearing, Jack?

He wasn’t even sure any more, with the red wine having numbed him, the fire making him sleepy.

What exactly was he afraid of hearing?

That Lily loathed him?

Well, that was clear; she wasn’t even bothering trying to hide it. And she was still maintaining that she was somehow the injured party.

Ten years ago Jack had gone to LA to talk to her about what she thought his father had done. Maybe he hadn’t gone as quickly as he could have...maybe he shouldn’t have waited a week to do so...but he’d been sure it was just a misunderstanding they could sort out.

Instead he’d found her locking tongues with Drake Johnson.

Lily picked up the dice, rolled a two. Entertainment.

Jack picked up the next card and read it to himself. Name the actor John Thorpe the Fourth was married to for six weeks.

Jack placed the card down. ‘Not this one.’

‘You don’t get to pick and choose.’ She put her hands on her gently curvaceous hips.

‘Not this one,’ he said again.

‘Cheat!’

She grabbed at the card, but he held it to his chest. If she wanted it that much, she’d have to come and get it.

‘You can have the point,’ he said.

‘Then why not just ask me the question? I want to know what it says.’

Her face was glowing with indignation. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wide. Her offended face looked a lot like her aroused face if memory served...

He dismissed that particular memory and pushed the card across to her, face-up. Then he watched as the look on her face melted from outrage to something else. She stood quickly. Without all the stretching and posturing.

‘I need...’ She looked around the room. ‘Water.’

She went to the kitchen. Jack looked at the board. He could cheat and read the next card...or he could follow her into the kitchen and check she was okay.

He fell onto his back and looked up at the beams in the ceiling. Damn it all. Damn this stupid game. Damn the whole world and its inability to stay out of their lives. Even here, after all the steps they’d taken, the distance they’d travelled to get some space and some peace, the world still poked its nose back into their lives. It was jarring...intrusive.

Jack rolled over and pulled himself up. He could do with some water too.

He found Lily in the kitchen, her hands pressed against the edge of the sink, staring out into the dark void of the forest beyond.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘Why? It’s not your fault I’m a Trivial Pursuit answer.’

She turned and shrugged. Her face was pale, she looked exhausted. Drained. Beaten.

‘Would you rather be a Trivial Pursuit question?’

She smiled, and some of the life returned to her face. ‘When you put it like that, I suppose not.’

He took two glasses from the cupboard and filled them with ice-cold water from the faucet. He passed her one.

‘Stuff ’em,’ he said.

She took the glass. ‘I know you’re right. And most of the time it wouldn’t bother me. Except...’ She turned away and looked back out through the window.

When she didn’t go on he said, ‘Except it’s weird being here with your ex, in your sanctuary? In the place where you’re meant to be able to forget him and everything associated with him and your crazy life?’

She smiled again, and something started to unravel inside him.

‘Yes, exactly that.’

She was blindsided—that was all. As if the whole past twenty-four hours hadn’t been strange enough, here she was now, trying not to look at the way Jack’s pecs perfectly filled out his tight white T-shirt, or at the seductive jut of his collarbone and the faint outline of a nipple she could see straining through the thin fabric.

And the fact that the more she ruffled her hair and ran her tongue over her teeth, the more she thought about running it somewhere else...

The crazy thing was, she was having fun. Her blood was pumping faster than it had in ages—and not just because of Jack’s T-shirt, but because she was having to stretch herself to beat him. He pushed her. Challenged her. And she had laughed more tonight than she had in months.

And as for the way her insides tingled when he brushed his fingers against hers... Which he was doing often...

Jack moved past her again to refill his water glass and she watched the way his shoulders twisted, caught a glimpse of the tendons in his smooth forearms. Seeing her watching him, he paused. She inhaled. There it was again. That smell. Of wood and clean air. And man.

‘We don’t have to finish the game, you know,’ he whispered.

‘Of course we do. Otherwise how do we know who wins?’

He didn’t reply, he just moved closer and looked down at her.

‘What if no one won? Does it really matter?’

It did matter. She hated it that it mattered, but it did. He hadn’t really listened to her before; he hadn’t believed her. He’d betrayed her trust. He’d thrown away their marriage, and her.

She shook her head. She thought he was going to reach out and touch her arm, but he didn’t. Instead he looked down at her and smiled. Not a sarcastic smile, but a genuine, caring one. The sparkle in his blue eyes sent soft ripples up and down her body.

Now they weren’t arguing about who should leave, or why their marriage had ended, they were having fun.

Granted, the way their marriage had ended was still a pretty big problem...

She gulped her water and it was so cold her throat stung. Though her head wasn’t any clearer.

Had the sex been as good as she remembered? Or had she just been too naive as a twenty-year-old? Not in touch enough with her own body and feelings. So overwhelmed by the fact that Jack Thorpe had wanted her that she’d failed to notice he lacked any actual skill?

Curiosity gnawed at her now. She yearned to know...to remember what had it been like to be in bed with Jack.

Could she be twenty again and know everything she knew now?

She gulped down more water. It gave her energy, but did nothing to quell the heat inside her that was growing hotter, even away from the fire.

When she’d finished the glass Jack took it from her. When his fingers touched hers it wasn’t a surprise. Her heart was already hammering, and the heat emanating from his body, mere inches from hers, was more distracting than any brush from his fingers could be.

This was crazy. Why was he standing so close to her?

‘What if no one won?’ he repeated.

‘If no one won...?’ she whispered.

What if they could both just put it all behind them? Agree that the past didn’t matter? For the first time she didn’t dismiss the idea outright, but let it sit for a moment in her mind.

They could both pretend, at least while they were stuck here. They could pretend they didn’t have a past. Or a future. Only the present. And at present things were looking pretty good.

She stared straight ahead and all she saw was his chest. A wall of hard defined muscle and soft skin.

He moved forward again. She had to step away, tell him that it would be a mistake. But before she knew what she was going to say, she lifted her gaze. Big mistake. As soon as she looked into his pale blue eyes nothing else seemed to matter.

He lifted his hand and his thumb brushed the underside of her chin, gently lifting it up. He lowered his mouth to hers.

Just a test couldn’t hurt, could it? To remind her that memory could be fickle and Jack Thorpe was not as good a kisser as she remembered? Just a taste, a little nibble, that was all...

But it turned out Jack Thorpe was made of wicked appetite stimulants. The second his lips brushed against hers she needed more, needed to taste him. To devour and be devoured. There was no tentative exploration, no careful evaluation. Just everything, all at once.

His open mouth caught hers and their tongues collided in a frantic tangle. He tasted of wine, heat and male. He tasted like her memories, like her innocence.

Though there was nothing innocent about the way he cupped her bottom and pulled her tightly to him. Moisture started pooling inside her, molten and urgent. She clawed at his shirt, sighed when her fingers connected with the smooth skin of his waist. She slipped her hands around his waist and grasped him with needy fingers. His fingers slid up into her hair and he tilted her face to his at just the perfect angle for their mouths. Every cell in her body was reacting to him, tingling, moving, or anticipating.

Jack lifted her with one movement onto the nearby bench. She spread her legs, wrapped her feet around his backside and pulled him even closer. They were groin to groin, their lips at the same height. His hand slid up her T-shirt over her bra. Into her bra.

Don’t forget to breathe. No, do. Die right here. Let them find our bodies years from now, entwined in each other’s.

Lily groaned. Jack did too: a sweet, frustrated sound that echoed the pitch of her own heart.

This wasn’t just a test any more, nor an innocent taste. This kiss had just become adults only. This kiss wasn’t even a prelude to something more. When she pressed her groin to his all her muscles contracted and it was something more.

She pushed him away, panting.

He looked lost, confused. His eyebrows dipped together in question.

The room swayed around her.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have.’

His face was red. Creased with guilt.

He thinks you’re with David. He thinks you’ve cheated again.

‘It’s not what you think—’ she started.

‘You don’t need to explain.’

‘I’m not a cheater. I don’t...’

Jack’s face opened with curiosity. She didn’t know what to say next. She wanted him to know that she wasn’t a cheater. That she was single, free to kiss whomever she chose.

But she didn’t owe Jack an explanation. And if she told him she wasn’t with David then maybe they would kiss again and...

She wasn’t sure she wanted that either.

That’s really why you lied about David, isn’t it? Because if he knows the truth then there will be one less thing stopping you from sleeping with Jack Thorpe.

She could just grab him again and resume what they’d been doing. It would be easier to avoid the conversation they had to have and as an added bonus her clitoris would be eternally grateful. It wasn’t going to forgive her for what she had to do next.

‘You win.’ She pressed her hands to his chest and pushed him back. She hopped off the bench and away from his heat and temptation.

‘Lily—’

‘I can’t.’

She slipped past him, but he reached for her arm. Her muscles froze under his hand.

Why on earth had she kissed him back? Had she lost control of her body to such an extent that she couldn’t keep her hands or her lips to herself?

It was foolish. Too much wine. Not enough oxygen to the brain.

You have to get out of here right away.

Her temples throbbed. Her judgement was if not impaired then definitely compromised if she was thinking about ripping Jack’s clothes off and climbing on top of him. Right here in the kitchen.

‘Goodnight.’

She shook his hand away and fled to her room.

CHAPTER SEVEN

IF ONLY SHE’D thought to sneak back upstairs for some food during the night.

She supposed that late last night, when she’d fled down here, she’d hoped the weather would have eased and that she’d be able to sneak away in the morning. But no. Outside her window the tree branches were still heavy with snow and the sun was nowhere to be seen.

She would wait until he left the house to walk Daisy. Or wait until he went to bed. Then she’d get more food. But that was hours away. And her stomach was tight with hunger. She’d love a cup of tea... Maybe she could bring the kettle down with her.

One thing was for certain: she couldn’t face him. That decision had been made for her the moment she’d surrendered to his kiss. The moment she’d made him think she was an unfaithful feckless woman after all.

They’d played to win and she’d lost. Not the unfinished game of Trivial Pursuit, but the unspoken game of psychological warfare they had waged at the same time.

They’d flirted and teased and danced around each other. It had all been a ruse. Her head had known that. But her body hadn’t. And she’d lost. She was the one who hadn’t been able to keep her hands off him. The one who had started to rip his clothes off him.

Her skin burnt with embarrassment just thinking about it. All that effort to keep Jack Thorpe out of her mind, all those walls built to keep out the pain—all undone in a single moment of weakness.

But now she was stuck here. With him. The only positive thing she could see was that it had all happened in private. No one knew but the two of them, and she was sure Jack wanted to forget about the whole business just as much as she did.

She tried to type, but intrusive thoughts about Jack kept distracting her from her characters.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t meant to snow in September and stupid Jack Thorpe wasn’t meant to be at the cabin. Her cabin! And he wasn’t meant to be sexy and intoxicating and eternally unattainable. And still blind to all the reasons why their marriage had been a short but comprehensive disaster.

She wasn’t meant to turn her back on everything she believed in. She wasn’t meant to forget that the last decade of her life had ever happened and kiss him.

When would he decide to leave?

How long could she last without eating?

What would it feel like to die of hunger?

She knew from researching for one of her books that the first stages were tiredness and loss of reason. She cackled. Tiredness and loss of reason were what had made her kiss Jack in the first place.

This probably wasn’t the worst moment in her life, but right now it felt like it.

You know exactly what the worst moment was, she reminded herself.

John Thorpe the Third had never bothered to make a secret of the fact that he thought Lily Watson was beneath his son. An actress. From the wrong side of the metaphorical tracks. That was two strikes as far as John had been concerned. Lily was simply not good enough for his son and never would be.

John had liked to make sly, sarcastic references about her career and her co-stars, asking her if she was attracted to them. Asking her if she liked kissing them. It had been creepy in the extreme. But, not wanting to come between Jack and his father, Lily had never told Jack the full extent of his father’s comments. Apart from anything she’d been just twenty, and in awe of Jack and his family.

John’s campaign against Lily had become more intense after Jack had proposed. In the lead-up to their wedding, John’s comments about Lily’s career, and the fact that she kissed other men for a living, had become more frequent—to the point where Lily had tried to talk to Jack about them.

Jack had dismissed her concerns with excuses like, ‘You must have heard him wrong.’ Or, ‘No, he told me he loves you; he must just have been joking.’

Since she hadn’t told Jack any of the things his father had said earlier, he didn’t believe her when she finally wanted to.

By the time of the wedding Lily had been a mess, but had told herself that once they were married John would give up his campaign of hatred against her and become resigned to their relationship, if not accepting.

He hadn’t.

After their honeymoon in Paris, Lily had gone back to work: she’d been contracted to two more movies, and Meredith had been negotiating a role for her in a new trilogy based on a bestselling series of young adult books. Shortly after she’d returned, the executive producer of the trilogy, Mark Allen, had dropped by the set and asked her to join him for lunch.

She’d thought he was going to tell her personally that she’d been given the role.

He hadn’t.

Instead he’d told her that he’d received a call from John Thorpe. What he’d gone on to say had shocked her to her core.

‘So...am I not getting the role?’ Lily had asked shakily at the end of his revelations.

‘It hasn’t been decided yet,’ Mark had said evasively.

She hadn’t believed him.

Jack had been in New York, Lily in LA. When she’d phoned him and tried to tell him about the conversation he had dismissed her concerns again, and she’d been able to tell he hadn’t really heard what she’d said.

‘Allen’s just trying to come up with an excuse not to give you the role,’ Jack had said.

‘But why would he bother to do that? He could just give the role to someone else.’

Even successful actors didn’t get every role they wanted. And Lily had never been the sort of prima donna to make anyone believe she needed to be placated when she missed out on a role.

The stress of the conversation, her separation from Jack, and a gruelling filming schedule all took their toll. A week later Jack still hadn’t come to LA, like he’d promised, and she’d been a wreck.

It had been obvious to her colleagues that she was upset. One night she’d poured it all out to Drake, who had listened, and refilled her wine glass several times, and that was when Jack had arrived and found Drake comforting her.

She hadn’t meant to let Drake kiss her, and she certainly hadn’t made the first move, but for the first time in many, many months someone had actually listened to her about John’s behaviour towards her. Someone had believed her.

But Jack had believed she was the unfaithful Jezebel his father had always thought she was.

Sometimes you could ignore a kiss. Write it off as being the result of too much alcohol. Or an experiment that didn’t work.

This was not one of those kisses.

Jack looked hopefully out of the kitchen window, but the sun wasn’t even trying to peek through the clouds. The temperature was firmly stuck in the sub-zero range. Even if the snow stopped falling it would need a day or two above freezing before it started to melt.

Jack had considered kissing Lily, his thoughts having taken a detour in that direction on several occasions in the past twenty-four hours. Lily was beautiful—even more beautiful than she’d been a decade ago. She was confident, self-assured, and maybe more attractive because she neither wanted nor needed him now.

So, yes, in several idle moments he’d thought about kissing her—and more—but he’d never intended to act on it. It would have been foolish in the extreme. Lily Watson was the last person in the world he should be kissing. She was with someone else, and his life was already messed up enough without throwing an ex-wife into the horrendously complicated mix.

But his lips still tingled...his skin still burnt. Two cold showers and a fitful night’s sleep hadn’t stopped the dull, throbbing ache.

A throbbing ache that couldn’t be acted upon.

He’d kissed her.

He’d kissed her.

She’d kissed him back. Enthusiastically. But he’d made the first move.

A sickening realisation kept pushing to the front of his thoughts and he couldn’t ignore it any longer. He was the other man.

He was no better than Drake the Rake.

‘I’m not a cheater. I don’t...’

He hadn’t let her finish her sentence. Or had she just stopped talking? What had she been about to say?

She’d been about to defend herself. Accuse him of kissing her. Accuse him of starting it.

Just like she’d always said Drake had.

A chill froze his neck and shoulders. She’d been the one to pull away. She’d been the one to walk away. If Lily hadn’t left, he might have made love to her on the kitchen floor.

He searched the kitchen for the coffee beans, forgetting where he’d put them.

She’s the one with the partner, so she shouldn’t have kissed me back.

He tried to tell himself that...tried to tell himself he was less to blame than she was.

But he didn’t believe himself.

He’d kissed her. He’d made the first move. If it was anyone’s fault, it was his.

Jack wanted to vomit. This was one of those shades of grey she’d been talking about.

He found the coffee and started the machine.

This time he couldn’t sneak out. He’d done that the last time. Like a coward, he’d left the apartment without a word, refused to speak to her until... Until now, he realised. And while leaving her without a backward glance had worked when he was twenty-four, it wouldn’t work now. He wasn’t that man any more.

It would be wrong. Just as it had been wrong then. Only he’d been an immature twenty-four-year-old then, and nothing in his privileged life until that point had prepared him for how to react when his wife accused his father of sabotaging her career and then was caught kissing another man.

Leaving the coffee machine dripping away, he moved towards the lower wing. Not sure what he was going say, he turned the handle of her door. It didn’t budge. Locked.

That was understandable. After what he’d done.

He knocked. ‘Lily? Lily, do you want some coffee?’

No response.

‘Lily?’ His words bounced off the closed door. There was only silence.

A terrible thought gripped him and he spun and raced to open the garage door.

Her car was there. At least she hadn’t driven away. She had just locked herself in her room.

Daisy looked up at him. Then looked to the door.

‘Not right now, girl. When Lily comes out.’

Daisy walked over to her bed, stepped in, curled up and went to sleep. Jack sighed. The dog was probably right. Lily would take her time. Best to make himself comfortable.

The day dragged on. With hardly any sunlight it was difficult to tell how fast time was passing. A part of him knew he was being melodramatic. But it had been all day. She had water from the faucet in her en suite bathroom, but did she have any food in there? He had no way of knowing.

What if she died because he’d kissed her?

That was a crazy thought. She wasn’t going to die. But she couldn’t be comfortable. It was five p.m., and as far as he knew she hadn’t eaten anything since last night’s steak.

That’s her own fault. You haven’t locked her in there.

Maybe not physically, but if something happened to her Jack knew he’d be far from blameless.

Why on earth hadn’t he just listened to her properly?

He remembered how upset Lily had been leading up the wedding, how unlike herself. She’d told him she didn’t think his father liked her, and Jack had told her she was being paranoid. After all, anyone who knew Lily at all knew that Jack was the lucky one—he was the one who was ‘marrying up’. So he’d dismissed her fears without properly listening to her because surely Lily could see that Jack adored her? That his world revolved around her? That there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her?

Then she’d told him something about his father interfering with her getting a role. He couldn’t remember the details, he realised now, hot with mortification. Because he’d been so sure she’d misinterpreted something she’d heard that he hadn’t listened to her properly. Instead, he’d told her she must be mistaken, and when she’d become really upset with him, he’d thought she was just pouting about the director wanting someone else for the role.

A week later, frustrated with what he’d thought was rather a petulant ongoing silence from her, he’d flown to LA to sort the whole thing out.

He’d thought it was all just a misunderstanding.

But he’d arrived too late. If he had come even an hour earlier would Drake have been at her apartment?

He shouldn’t have suggested the stupid competition yesterday; he should have just listened to her in the first place. Especially now his own doubts about his father’s true character had been creeping in recently.

You should have listened to her ten years ago.

Jack looked around the cabin. There wasn’t much to work with. But he had to give it a try.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I’LL JUST HAVE a nap, Lily thought. I’ll set an alarm for eleven p.m. and wake when I know he’ll be asleep. Then I’ll go upstairs and have toast. And pasta.

She began to salivate.

Pizza. Hot, fresh pizza. Dripping with cheese. Lasagne. Fried chicken. French fries.

Her stomach groaned and her head felt light. She had to stop thinking of food. She had to stop thinking, full-stop. Especially as most of the food she longed for she hadn’t even brought with her!

She let her head rest on the pillow. She’d sleep now, eat later.

Just as she was drifting off into sleep a sound ripped through the house. Blaring, high-pitched. She immediately awoke.

Smoke alarm? Was the house on fire? What the hell was Jack up to?

Lily grabbed her jacket and looked around for her shoes. Damn, they were in the laundry. She rushed up the stairs and into the living room.

The noise stopped.

She looked around the big room, searching for signs of smoke...chaos. Found none. Instead there, standing in the middle of the room, wearing sunglasses, flip-flops, shorts and a white shirt that barely fitted him, was Jack.

‘What on earth’s going on?’ she asked.

He lifted his sunglasses onto the top of his head. Grinned.

There was no smoke. No fire. Just a madman standing in front of her, looking pleased with himself. He’d tricked her out of her room.

Damn.

She looked around the room again, and the things that caught her eye were the letters, cut out of white paper, taped to the brick wall behind him, spelling the word Hollywood.

‘What are you wearing? What is going on? Have you totally lost your mind?’

‘Possibly...’ she heard him mumble. Then he spoke louder. ‘I’m trying to turn back time. I want to pretend that it’s ten years ago and this is LA and I’ve come to listen to what you want to tell me about my father.’

‘Oh, Jack...’ Lily’s body sagged.

‘Are you hungry?’

‘Maybe a little.’ She didn’t want to admit that she was so ravenous she was approaching delirium.

He led her to the table, where a plate of pancakes was sitting. She could smell the sticky maple syrup they were drenched in from several feet away. This wasn’t a coincidence; she’d used to make pancakes for him for breakfast every other day.

He pulled a chair out for her and she sat. He nudged a glass of orange juice in her direction and she took it, her grateful body devouring the sugar. Then she ate the pancakes steadily, giving her body time to adjust. Slowly, her blood sugar levels returned to normal.

Finally, he said, ‘Tell me. Please. I’m ready to listen properly this time.’

‘Really? Are you?’

‘I’d say so. I think I’m about ten years too late. So I ought to be ready. What happened, exactly, the week we broke up?’

The clothes were way too small for him, he thought. The shorts rubbed awkwardly against his groin and one of the buttons on the shirt had actually popped. But he deserved the discomfort. It was worth it as Lily was now out of her room and she had eaten.

‘Are they your clothes?’ she asked.

‘These? No, I found them in the closet. But they look like something I might have worn ten years ago. Give me a break. I’m improvising. And you’re delaying. I thought you wanted to tell me.’

He hoped he looked ridiculous enough that she’d at least stay upstairs and not hide away down in her room again. Wearing too-tight clothes and listening to what she had to say was a small price to pay for peace of mind.

She sighed and began, ‘Your father never liked me—’

‘He did. He just had a thing about actresses.’

Lily held up her hand. ‘If you aren’t prepared to listen to what I have to say, then what are we even doing here?’

Jack made a zipping motion across his lips and sat still.

‘He really didn’t like me, Jack. From the moment he met me. And he constantly tried to scare me away from you. When that didn’t work, and once we were married, he tried to get me to give up my career.’

And Lily had given up her acting career. Although by then she and Jack were over.

‘It wasn’t long after our honeymoon, as you know, and I was back at work in LA and you were in New York. Your dad wanted you there, but I had commitments in California. One of my executive producers, Mark Allen, called me to lunch one day.’

Jack remembered that.

‘He told me that they’d wanted to give me the lead in a trilogy they were developing, but your father had called them and told them that it was the Thorpe family’s preference that I didn’t act any longer. I don’t know exactly what your father said to them—only that the studio believed they would be risking some sort of retaliation, probably withdrawal of funding, if they chose me. Mark had no choice but to cast someone else.’

Jack flinched. He didn’t recall that.

‘I called you,’ she went on. ‘I remember the phone line wasn’t great, or you were somewhere noisy. And I remember you didn’t listen to me properly or believe me. You said he was just coming up with an excuse not to give me the role.’

He remembered that. But what about the rest of it? What about when he’d come to LA?

‘I was upset,’ she told him. ‘I was really upset about all of it. I wasn’t sleeping beyond maybe a broken hour or two each night. And I was losing too much weight...my skin was a mess. You were in New York and we weren’t talking. We were both busy, and the time difference didn’t help. And I was having trouble keeping it together on set. Everyone knew there was something up and there was a lot of gossip. I was a newlywed; I should’ve been glowing. Instead I looked wretched. Drake noticed, but he wasn’t the only one. He came over that night because he was worried about me. I didn’t invite him. I know what you think of him, but he’s a good man. He’s never breathed a word about any of this to the press. I told him what Mark had told me.’

Lily looked up at the fake Hollywood sign and drew a long breath.

‘And I told him what you’d told me about him just looking for an excuse for not giving me the part. Drake didn’t agree with you. He said that didn’t sound right.’

They were silent. So silent that he heard a crow squawk from across the valley.

Jack’s muscles had turned to stone and he was filled with rage—mainly at the thought of Drake comforting Lily like that. He was ready to punch him all over again.

‘He listened to me because he was a friend and then, yes, he kissed me, and I kissed him back. Jack, you didn’t believe me when I told you that your father was actively against me, and I was going out of my mind. And that was when you came. I didn’t sleep with Drake. Not then, not ever. But when you wouldn’t listen to me...when you filed for divorce a week later without even speaking to me again. Well...’ She shrugged.

The way she said it made it sound like the whole thing was his fault. But it couldn’t be, could it?

‘You did kiss another man while you were married to me,’ he pointed out through gritted teeth.

‘Yes Jack, I kissed him—that was all. I don’t deny it. But you have to understand that I was right at the edge of my emotional limits, exhausted and more than a little tipsy. And I was totally devasted that you hadn’t really listened to me, and what you had heard you didn’t believe. You certainly didn’t support me. You sided with your father. And you never stopped for a second to consider whether any of it was true. You believed your father wholeheartedly instead of me.’

Jack sat there, his eyes not focused on anything. Certainly not on her.

What did you expect, Lily? What did you think was going to happen when you kissed another man?

Then a memory hit him.

‘Women are fickle creatures. And actresses are the worst...’

Those were his father’s words. And he had once thought his father was always right.

Until this last week, that was.

‘They didn’t give me the part—you probably figured that out. Mark Allen didn’t offer me any more roles. Nor did any of the other big studios. Oh, I was still offered parts by the independents, and I tried a few, but eventually I couldn’t do it any more. I hated being on set. I hated the way everyone would gossip about me, speculate about us. There were comments about how awful I was looking. About my weight, my hair...’ She stopped as the words seemed to get stuck in her throat.

He looked at her hair now, dark and long and as lustrous as he’d always known it. But a memory of that time crept back into his consciousness. Of their honeymoon. How she had already been looking thinner then. Bordering on too thin. And there had been dark circles growing around her eyes.

The stupid thing was that now he’d properly listened none of this was a huge surprise. He’d known in his heart that what she was going to tell him about his father would shake the last of his faith in the man, but hearing the effect his father’s actions had had on her...that made him ashamed to his core. Because this was the first time he had taken on board what she was saying and now he believed her. Not his father. He’d heard her side of the story, which was not what he’d wanted to hear, and he knew it was true.

His father did not trust women. He didn’t even particularly like them all that much. And he couldn’t stand actresses—not since Jack’s mother had betrayed him. Could Jack have picked up on his father’s bias more than he’d realised?

Lily had been not much more than a kid. His father had behaved appallingly towards her, and Jack had let him do it by disregarding her concerns.

You didn’t believe her at the time...you thought she was overreacting.

Only now, with hindsight and a new clarity over his father’s character in the last week, was he able to see that John Thorpe was capable of doing such a thing.

‘I see now that my father isn’t the person I thought he was. I’m so sorry, Lily. I should have listened to you, and I should have believed you.’

‘I think, looking back, we were both far too young for such an intense relationship,’ she said.

He shook his head. ‘That doesn’t make it right.’

‘No, it doesn’t. But it’s at least something. Things probably turned out for the best in the end. I have a career I really love.’

Something inside him twisted uncomfortably and a bitter taste appeared in his mouth. He was glad she didn’t seem to hate him or his father for ending her acting career; she had every right to. But she was also saying that she was happy they’d broken up.

And why shouldn’t she be happy? They were over, weren’t they?

Jack’s voice was gruff as he spoke, and he made no effort to look at her. He stared at the darkness outside the window to hide his eyes.

‘I’m truly sorry,’ he said again, his voice full of devastation. ‘I just didn’t believe he would do such a thing to you.’

‘I know you didn’t.’

She’d had longer to digest the fact that his father wasn’t perfect. That he was capable, in fact, of cruel things. Jack hadn’t been prepared to believe that at the time, so he’d chosen not to hear it.

‘Look, Jack, it’s ancient history now.’

As she’d told him just the night before, regret wasn’t helpful. She’d forged a new career. On her own terms. And she wasn’t going to let anyone take this one from her. Not this time.

Lily got up from the table with her plate and took it to the sink. Jack followed and Lily realised they were both standing just where they had been last night. At the sink, framed by the kitchen window.

‘Let me,’ Jack said, and reached for her plate.

As he did, two buttons on the too-small shirt popped. Lily laughed.

Jack regarded his torso, shrugged, and slipped the shirt off, revealing his perfectly broad muscular chest. ‘Thank goodness! That was cutting off my blood supply.’

Lily would have laughed again if she’d had control over her muscles. As it was, her mouth flooded with saliva. He was less than a foot away from her. She had to lift her head to meet his eyes and she found him staring down at her, his eyes full of concern and something else. Something that made her heart contract and her core tighten.

She had to look away from his face. But when she did her vision was blocked by wall-to-wall smooth skin, tight over evident muscles. Her fingers tingled, longing to connect with his flesh. She flexed her fingers, but the sensation only became stronger. As she tried to breathe, all she could smell was him.

It was more than a little surreal to be back here again, where they’d kissed, only a few hours later, but it was as though days had passed. Being trapped in the cabin together seemed to have had the effect of warping time.

‘I acted inappropriately last night.’

It took her a moment to understand his meaning. ‘Jack—’

‘I shouldn’t have kissed you.’

‘Jack—’

‘I know you’re a grown woman and make your own decisions, but you have a partner and I shouldn’t have kissed you. It’s my fault.’

The tightness and remorse in his voice made her heart ache, and before she could think better of it she said, ‘David and I have broken up.’

Jack’s mouth dropped. He looked horrified. ‘Because we kissed?’

‘No. No! Relax. Before... Months ago.’

‘But you... I thought...’

Lily drew in a deep breath. ‘We didn’t tell anyone except our families and the lawyers. And Meredith, of course. It hasn’t been announced yet.’ She took a moment to calculate the date. She’d lost track of time since being here with Jack. ‘Actually, it’s today, I think. Meredith is announcing it today.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said awkwardly.

‘I’m sorry too. For not telling you the truth.’

Jack shook his head. ‘It was none of my business.’ He looked her directly in the eyes and asked, ‘That’s why you’re really here, isn’t it?’

She nodded. ‘I wanted to be alone. Away from everyone and most of all away from social media.’

‘But instead you found the last person you wanted to see.’

She was about to agree with him, but stopped herself. Was he really the last person she wanted to see? Maybe he had been at first, but there was something comforting about his familiarity. And now he’d let her talk about the past something very honest was happening between them.

‘I’m sorry about David. I really am. And I’m sorry for being here when you needed peace and quiet.’

Jack picked up her hand but didn’t take his eyes from her. His grip was soft, warm. Familiar.

But his apology, while welcome, brought a new complication to the mood. The air grew heavy with a growing sense of anticipation and she was struck by the need to brush it away.

‘You should be sorry for these clothes,’ she told him. ‘For luring me out of my room.’

‘No, I’m not at all sorry about that. You’ve eaten, haven’t you? I was really worried.’

She froze, stunned at the significance of his admission.

Jack Thorpe? Worried about her?

Her hand was still in his, and that small area of contact was suddenly not enough. She imagined his hand sliding up the bare skin of her forearm. Under her shirt, over her shoulders, across her back. She shivered. She had to get a grip.

His feet were too big for the flip-flops. His body was too big for the old shorts.

‘You cannot be comfortable in those.’

‘I’m really not.’ He adjusted the tight shorts and his face creased with pain.

‘Oh, just take them off.’

‘Here?’

‘I... That is...’ Oh, heavens, had she really just told him to take his shorts off?

Thankfully, Jack left the kitchen and went into his room.

Last night’s game was still spread out on the coffee table. Untouched. Unfinished.

The board game wasn’t the only thing unfinished. Last night she had wanted to kiss him out of curiosity, because of their flirtation, because of the wine.

Now she wanted to kiss him again, but for more basic reasons...more indefinable...yet simpler.

Just because you’ve spoken about his father and he’s apologised for not believing you, that doesn’t mean you should pick up where you left off, said a little voice.

She glanced at the Hollywood sign and chuckled.

‘I wanted us to pretend that it was ten years ago.’

She followed him to his room. He’d left the door ajar. She couldn’t see anything without walking in. Should she knock?

You should go back to your room, that’s what you should do, said the little voice.

A louder one said, But wouldn’t it be better to knock on the door?

She knocked lightly and pushed.

‘Lily?’

His voice was inquisitive, but not at all annoyed, so she pushed further on the door and walked in. He was standing in the middle of the room, wearing only his boxers, the too-tight shorts discarded.

Her limbs felt heavy and slow, giving her eyes time to take him all in. She couldn’t help comparing the sight of him to the last time she’d seen him undressed. His shoulders were as broad as ever, his collarbone as well defined as always and his stomach as flat. But his chest seemed more muscular, covered in a smattering of dark hair. More hair than she remembered and not at all unappealing. In fact, the sight of thirty-four-year-old Jack was every bit as gorgeous as the sight of the twenty-four-year-old version had been.

He didn’t look unhappy to see her. In fact, part of him looked quite happy about it.

He took a step towards her.

What was she doing in here?

He took another step.

You know exactly what you’re doing in here, said the little voice.

He picked up her hand, like he’d done in the kitchen, and turned hers over in his.

‘We can’t go back ten years,’ she said.

Her voice was a whisper. Almost as if she didn’t mean it. But how to explain? She wanted Jack. She wanted his arms around her and his skin against hers. But she could never trust his family. She could never risk being drawn into their sphere again after what John Thorpe had done to her. He’d nearly destroyed her.

‘I know.’

He slid his warm hand up her forearm, just as she’d imagined him doing.

‘I wouldn’t want to. You’re more beautiful than ever before.’

His words washed through her, sweet, delicious. He slipped his smooth fingers beneath the fabric of her shirt and over her shoulder. Her body came alive beneath his touch, bursts of warmth spreading through her limbs. And the skin that wasn’t lucky enough to be brushing against his fingers yearned for it.

Touch me! Hold me!

Every pore in her body wanted to feel his touch. He didn’t touch her again, but he didn’t move away either. She held her breath. Kept holding it. Forget starving to death—she was going to die right here from lack of oxygen.

She watched the top of his dark head as he stroked her hands and her forearms. Her fingers itched to slide through his thick hair and her nose ached to bend down and smell his head, but she was too scared to touch him. Scared of how he would react.

What if he stopped this wonderful caressing?

She was too terrified of what touching him might unleash in her and at the same time too terrified of what her body would do if she didn’t.

‘You’re wearing more clothes than I am,’ he said, and it sounded as if his voice scratched along his throat.

‘It doesn’t seem fair, does it?’ Her voice was just as hoarse.

Jack hooked his fingers under the hem of her T-shirt and lifted it up over her head. Cold air hit her torso, but he slid his arms around her and pulled her close. Warm skin hit warm skin. The breath she’d been holding escaped in a long sigh. One by one the muscles in her body softened, then melted.

Jack leant his face close to hers. His mouth was so close she could see the pores in his skin, the fine lines in his pink lips.

She had told the truth earlier; she didn’t regret their relationship. Her biggest regrets were the things she hadn’t done. She wished that ten years ago she had confronted him about filing for divorce before they’d even spoken properly about what had happened. She wished that last night she had kissed Jack senseless until her lips were numb. Until she had nothing more to give...until he’d shaken her very core.

Jack’s eyes found hers and held her gaze. Behind his eyes she could see he was tossing this moment around in his thoughts, going over all the reasons why he should step back, get dressed. Yet he stayed where he was.

Lily didn’t budge either. There were reasons why she should move away—some good ones too—but the reason for staying was even simpler. Life was precious.

She didn’t take her eyes from his and saw the moment he broke. His lids lowered slowly and he moved his face the last inch to hers. He brushed his lips to hers again. Unlike last night, when they had fallen straight into the deepest, fervent kiss, this was slow, light and cautious, but it made her core melt just the same.

Lily held her breath, waiting for Jack to pull back and tell her that it was still a mistake. He didn’t. His tongue explored her mouth with great care, but when he lifted his hand to her breast and rubbed his thumb against the sensitive skin just above her bra, heat erupted inside her. She felt herself unravelling, unfolding, opening up.

She kissed him as though it was her last day on earth. She kissed him in case it was her last day on earth. And he kept kissing her back, his lips fused with hers. She would breathe later. She didn’t need air...she only needed him.

Jack’s lips traced down her neck, over her collarbone. Her fingers reached for his head and slid through his perfect thick locks. Jack ran his palm over her bra strap and Lily spread her hands over the warm bare skin of his arms, his shoulders, then down his torso, marvelling at the sensations under her fingertips, the way his muscles turned taut under her touch. She slid her hands down his torso, over his abs and lower, to the soft fabric of his track pants. A frustrated sigh escaped from his mouth.

‘Are you sure?’ His voice was ragged.

‘Yes.’

She would unravel the consequences later, but she and Jack had always been...unfinished. Their arguments never complete, their conflicts unresolved. Physically, they had needed each other as much as ever. Being newly married and separated for weeks had left her with an exquisite tension as she’d waited see him again. But of course that release had never arrived. Perhaps if their relationship had fizzled out, instead of exploding, she wouldn’t feel like this now.

‘There are things I’ve always wished we had a chance to do.’

Jack’s eyes widened and a knowing smile stretched his lips. He cupped her face in his hands. Slowly, reverently, he pushed the hair away from her face. He stroked her cheeks, kissed her forehead. There was no point holding back; life was short, and precious, and she wanted this, dammit. She didn’t want Jack back, and she didn’t want to be married to him again—heaven knew she didn’t want that. Just his body against hers, warm skin on warm skin, to breathe the same air as he did.

He slid her bra strap off her left shoulder and planted a kiss where it had been. Then he repeated the action on the other shoulder, before reaching behind her to undo the clasp. Lily shook the bra away and stood before him, memories stirring, awakening. Jack had always known exactly what to do with her breasts, but now he stroked the skin on her back, as if not wanting to be too eager. Or had he changed?

Her nipples were hard and expectant. She wanted him to touch her so much she could hardly get air into her lungs. When he lifted his hand to cup her left breast she sighed. When he took her nipple into his mouth she moaned.

Her knees buckled, but he caught her, and they half fell, half crawled onto the bed.

‘There are things I always wanted to do to you too, you know,’ he said in muffled tones as he kissed his way down her belly to her waistband.

‘Oh, yeah...?’ She sighed.

‘Oh, yeah. But ladies first.’

Lily giggled, and pushed him aside and onto his back. She straddled him and he grinned. Lily looked down at him and for a moment she froze. Now Jack Thorpe was under her, at her mercy, what would she do with him? He was gorgeous, chiselled, vulnerable, and so handsome her heart sang and her loins wept.

He raised a knowing eyebrow. ‘I could stare at you all night, you know?’

‘Good, because that way I can look at you too.’

She trailed her fingers softly down his chest, over his hard stomach, and loved the way his eyelids flickered. She drew small circles lightly over the bulge in his boxers and he inhaled a sharp breath. She didn’t have a lifetime to do all the things she wanted to do with him—she only had tonight.

With that thought, she leant forward and kissed his lips. The flame that had been smouldering inside her ignited.

The rest of their clothes soon lay as discarded as their worries as they found old pleasures and discovered new desires. Their bodies were warm and breathless, their hearts open and free, their skin aflame. Tingles were followed by tremors, followed by a few tears.

Discovering, remembering, twisting, curling, climbing, then finally falling together.

Lily’s breathing was gradually slowing. Jack felt as though he’d gone through a hundred emotions in the past couple of hours: fear, shame, sorrow, and now exhilaration, relief, wonder.

And he was spent.

Lily lay warm next to him. Her limbs were tangled in his. Her soft breasts nestled perfectly against his chest. Her breath came out in short, sweet gasps. He shifted slightly, only to feel her skin slide against his again. He couldn’t get enough of the sensation of her naked body moving against his.

Each moment was a precious gift.

That worry he’d felt about her earlier hadn’t subsided entirely. It was muted as he held her beautiful body in his arms at this very moment, so his world was complete, but a few drops of fear still circulated in his blood.

Jack untangled his limbs from hers. This type of fear wasn’t good. It was the type of fear that came from caring.

But the feelings he was having couldn’t be real. They were only because of the moment, being stuck together like this. They were confused, misguided emotions that swirled within them both, and those emotions had bamboozled them down onto this bed and into each other’s arms.

Lily was single.

Separated.

That’s a good thing, isn’t it, Thorpe? You didn’t help her cheat on her partner.

It was good. And yet...

‘Dinner?’ she said, and pulled her body from his. She grabbed the throw off the bed and pulled it around herself.

She’s self-conscious. Does she regret this?

Did he?

His body was still humming in the aftermath, and he didn’t regret it yet, but he wondered whether he would at some point. She’d just broken up with someone, after all. That was it, wasn’t it?

Lily looked at him properly. He saw her face register the look on his and her mouth opened slightly.

‘It doesn’t have to mean anything,’ she whispered.

It doesn’t have to mean anything.

She’d said it as though they’d just shared a cup of coffee, not earth-shifting sex.

‘I didn’t mean to suggest it did, only that—’

Before he could mangle his words further, she wrapped her palm around his forearm. She knew better than he did that this was the point when he should just stop talking. Neither of them needed to be bound by the words they spoke at this moment.

He looked around for her clothes, gathered her jeans and undershirt. ‘Where are your panties?’

She laughed.

‘I was going to do some laundry. I thought, since we’re stuck here for the foreseeable future, you might appreciate it.’

She had the decency to look contrite. Then her pretty lips pouted into the sexiest grin he’d seen in years.

Jack picked up their clothes and carried them away to the laundry. Lily watched him with her mouth open.

If he thought sex with her was a mistake, why was he laundering her clothes?

She flopped back on the bed.

Jack was freaking out. Since when did he offer to do anyone’s laundry?

Did she care if he was freaking out? She wasn’t sure yet. She wasn’t sure she wasn’t also freaking out. The sex had been good. The sex had been fantastic. But rather than satisfying her curiosity, or releasing all her pent-up tension, she felt...well, not released. Not satisfied.

Because Jack had lied.

She had no idea why he would lie about such a thing as shoulder surgery, but he had. So why was he really here?

She stretched out on the bed and looked out of the window into the snow.

He lied to me, and he’s still lying to me.

Mind-altering, body-transforming sex with Jack was all good and well, but he was keeping something from her. There was nothing wrong with his shoulder. The skin there was as perfectly toned, tanned and unscarred as it had been when she’d last seen it, when he was twenty-four. Now that she thought about it, she should have realised earlier, when he’d first slipped his T-shirt off those perfectly intact, perfectly perfect shoulders, unscarred by a surgeon’s knife.

Does it matter? This was just sex. You both know it can’t lead to anything else. You both know that it was simply due to the conversation you’d just had and the forced proximity. Being stuck together. He’s entitled to have secrets from you. You’re not together. You never could be.

Lily sighed. She had told Jack her real reason for being here. He should come clean too. It was only fair.

She rolled over and pulled herself up. She heard Jack in the kitchen, the sound of frying, and then the unmistakable smell of bacon.

And if they’d been caught up in the moment, in the heightened emotion, if they’d had sex, then so what? Plenty of couples had sex after they broke up, for all sorts of reasons—just as she had said. It didn’t have to mean anything.

Even if she couldn’t shake the memory of the way his tongue had explored her body in focused circles...the way his face had crumpled when he’d climaxed.

Her stomach tightened, but not with arousal. With simple animal hunger.

She pulled herself up and went to the kitchen. The pancakes earlier had been good, but she hadn’t eaten anything else all day. Now, delicious smells found her salivating.

Jack stood in the middle of the kitchen, dressed again in his track pants and another torso-loving white tee. He stood scrambling eggs, next to freshly toasted sourdough and crispy bacon.

‘Breakfast for dinner?’ she asked.

‘This was meant to follow the pancakes. I didn’t realise we’d get so...distracted. Do you want something else?’

‘No way. It smells great. Will it go with wine?’

He smiled and laughed. ‘Red or white?’

Could this really be Jack Thorpe, media entrepreneur? Privileged billionaire?

She tugged the blanket around herself. ‘I should get dressed.’

His gaze slid from her head to her toes.

‘Or not...’

He grinned again and his smile hit her right in the chest. Desire and longing curled down through her body. What was a day or two more stuck here alone with Jack? She’d already passed the point of no return.

‘How’s the shoulder?’ she asked.

CHAPTER NINE

JACK RUBBED HIS left shoulder. ‘It’s all right.’

‘You didn’t strain it? Putting up the Hollywood sign? Making love?’

‘The sign was hardly difficult. And the sex was great, but it wasn’t exactly acrobatic.’

‘Maybe, but still... You’ve been doing pretty well for someone recovering from recent surgery.’

‘You’re not that heavy.’

He dished up creamy eggs, bacon and toast dripping with butter. He wanted to eat, relax, think about how great the last hour had been. Not to have this conversation with Lily.

‘Thanks. You’ll have to give me the name of your surgeon.’

‘Why? You’ve torn your rotator cuff too?’

He took his plate to the table and motioned for her to sit, but she planted her feet firmly where she stood.

‘No. Because they must be a magician. There’s not a mark on you.’

She gave him her sweetest smile. She obviously knew. She should just come right out and say it.

He looked at the food. ‘It’s getting cold.’

She eyed the plate and he saw her indecision. He heard her stomach growl, but she still didn’t move. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Get dressed and I’ll tell you.’

Lily returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, looking bright and refreshed. She approached the breakfast he’d cooked for her with gusto. ‘Your talents are wasted on media mogul-ship. You’re an amazing cook.’

It sounded like she was letting the topic drop, but Jack knew her better than that. They had shared something. And she’d come clean with him about her break-up with David.

‘I found out something about my father,’ he said slowly.

And as soon as the words had left his lips he felt lighter. There was no turning back now.

Lily regarded him and chewed her mouthful carefully. ‘Something else?’ she asked slowly, as though she were unsure whether he would consider confiding in her.

He nodded.

‘What?’

‘I’m not exactly sure yet.’ Jack reached for a bottle of wine and the opener.

She didn’t prompt him, but waited for him to open the bottle and pour out two glasses.

‘I don’t know if my father’s business practices have always been completely above board. I think he’s been using threats and stand-over tactics to get deals done.’

‘Oh.’

After what his father had done to her, Jack knew it wouldn’t surprise Lily to learn that John Thorpe wasn’t above using manipulation and intimidation. Not one little bit. But it did surprise Jack. He’d worked closely with his father for years...learnt from him. And this—the deal with such an underhanded paparazzo like Luc Harmon—was unlike anything Jack had seen him do before.

Had his father always been involved in shady deals and threats? Had Jack been too blind to see?

‘In an immoral way or an illegal way?’ Lily asked.

‘Both, I think.’

‘Oh, Jack...’

While the revelation might not shock her, even a week later it still shocked him. Not only did he love his father, he also idolised him. When his mother had abandoned them to live in Paris his father had been everything to him—father, mother, mentor, boss... Now business partner.

‘In the past few years I’ve noticed him going after deals that are on the risky side, or making decisions that are just downright short-sighted. I put it down to the fact that he’s getting older, the world is changing and he’s a little reluctant to change with it. But something happened recently and...’

Jack rubbed his hand over the stubble on his chin. There were so many reasons why he shouldn’t tell Lily any of this.

‘You don’t have to tell me, but if you want to talk I’ll listen. And I won’t tell a soul.’

‘No one would believe I’d told you anyway.’

‘That’s probably true.’ Her face opened into that famous smile. All white teeth and eyes that sparkled with humour.

‘He was trying to acquire a group of television stations in Europe. I didn’t agree with the purchase. Dad and I often disagree on the role legacy media should play in the Thorpe group.’

‘Not a good investment?’

‘Not these days. I don’t think it’s the direction the company should be going in. I’m trying to branch into digital media and mediums. Dad doesn’t get it, though.’

Lily nodded.

‘He’s stuck in the last century, and the board are happy to go along with him because he’s John Thorpe. But lately they’ve been pushing back too. Dad’s been getting angry. Frustrated. Annoying people he shouldn’t.’

‘Oh, dear.’

‘But he managed to negotiate a deal for Western State Media that was astounding. Not much more than a steal. I could tell the board was going to agree to buy it, despite their reservations. And then the majority shareholder of Western State Media died.’

‘I don’t understand...’

‘At first I hoped it was just a coincidence.’

‘But?’

‘I found out that Dad’s been paying Luc Harmon, a particularly nasty paparazzo, large sums of money.’

Lily openly shivered. He knew she would be well aware of exactly what kind of scum Luc Harmon was.

‘I asked him why he was paying Harmon and he said Luc had offered to do him a favour. Just to help “lubricate” the deal.’

Lily screwed up her face. ‘Did you ask your father about the deal? The dead man?’

Jack pushed his plate away and nodded. ‘He said the death had nothing to do with the deal. That it was just a coincidence.’

‘Maybe it was?’

‘I hope so. But why get involved with someone like Luc Harmon? There’s a big difference between playing hard and blackmail, and right now I don’t know which category my father falls into.’

Lily pressed her palm to her chest. ‘How did the man die?’

‘It’s unclear, but it seems like suicide.’

Lily’s jaw hung open.

Jack noticed his hands were shaking. He grasped his coffee mug. ‘Dad didn’t deny that he’d played hard, or that Luke was helping him win the deal.’

‘How so?’

‘Dad said that he’d let the man know he had photos of him he wouldn’t want anyone else to see. I’m still trying to figure it out, but at the same time I’m not sure I want to know. Lily, it isn’t how I do business.’

‘Of course not... I’m just trying to understand. What happens next?’

Jack sighed. ‘Yeah, good question. Dad pretty much confessed that he’d used Harmon before, to blackmail other purchasers who wouldn’t sell. Or who wouldn’t sell at a price acceptable to the Thorpe board. I have no idea how long it’s been going on and Dad wouldn’t say. I don’t know if I’ve just been naïve, or if the whole business is built on a lie. And maybe I don’t really know anything about business at all.’

Lily laughed. ‘You’re joking, right? You built E-Quinox Media from scratch yourself.’

E-Quinox was Jack’s ‘side hustle’. It was a billion-dollar side hustle, but still dwarfed by Thorpe Media.

Jack shrugged.

‘You’re not serious? Jack, you built your own company into the success it is now because you’re an amazing businessman. Bullying people into selling their businesses for next to nothing isn’t business—it’s blackmail, coercion and God knows what else. It’s a crime. Picking trends, getting in early and developing ideas—that’s good business, Jack.’

‘My father is still the face of Thorpe Media. The President takes his calls, not mine.’

The remains of their breakfast/dinner lay on the table in front of them. Lily stood and started to clear up.

What Jack hadn’t admitted to Lily—what he could barely acknowledge even to himself right now—was that she had known all along that his father was capable of this. She had known John Thorpe could manipulate people, intimidate them, tell lies to get what he wanted. She’d tried to tell him, her husband, who should have believed her, and he’d refused to listen.

And there was another question he didn’t dare ask himself—one that had been hovering at the back of his thoughts and gnawing its way into his consciousness ever since he’d found out. How had he not seen it? He was close to his father—so close. For the last thirty years John Thorpe had been everything to him. How had he not even suspected that his father could do something like this?

Should he have seen?

The answer to those questions, he feared, were: Because you chose not to. And: Yes.

He loved his father, and he was so proud of being his son, of being Jack Thorpe, that believing there were cracks behind the successful, powerful façade of the man had been unthinkable. His father might be getting older, and was noticeably frailer, but he was as driven as ever.

What had Jack missed?

He should have started looking into those cracks when Lily had first flagged that his father had tried to derail her acting career. He should’ve at least asked some questions. He shouldn’t have dismissed her claims outright.

‘So what are you going to do?’ she asked now.

‘I don’t know. That’s why I came up here. To think. And avoid the board meeting.’

‘What meeting?’

‘The board was due to meet...’ Jack looked at his watch ‘...today, actually. Before I left I opposed the acquisition and took it off the agenda. Dad was furious.’

‘I’ll bet.’

‘I don’t expect the problem to just go away, but I’m hoping to buy some time.’

‘And if he brings it to the meeting anyway?’

‘It’s a possibility. But if they do try to hold a vote without me and approve the purchase, at least I won’t have been there. I’ll be able to distance myself from the actions of the board and the company will at least stand a fighting chance of survival.’ Jack sipped the last of his coffee. ‘It’s cowardly, I know.’

‘It’s not cowardly to stand up to a bully,’ she said.

‘But I’m avoiding it—standing up to him, that is.’

‘But you will when you’re ready.’

Lily said it as if she was sure. She said it as if it was simple.

Jack grimaced. ‘I always knew he was a hard negotiator, but I never believed he could sink to this level.’

I didn’t believe you and I’m sorry.

The words formed once again in his brain but he left them unsaid, afraid of where they would lead. To recriminations? More accusations? Or possibly forgiveness? What if she told him she understood why he hadn’t believed what his father was like when she’d told him? What if she said that she knew how much he loved and idolised his father? What if she said she forgave him?

It wouldn’t matter if he did receive Lily’s forgiveness—because he couldn’t forgive himself. He was as undeserving of Lily’s forgiveness as John Thorpe was of his fortune.

‘Do you know how long this has been going on? The extent of it?’ she asked.

‘No. I’m looking over the records of all the deals Dad’s been involved in, but nothing untoward has jumped out at me so far. I’m trying to dig deeper.’

‘Maybe you need to go to the police? If you don’t and it all comes out, and they find out you knew all along, you’ll be an accessory.’

‘And if I go to the police and Dad goes to jail and Thorpe Media is dissolved then thousands of people will lose their jobs. And I’ll be responsible.’

‘You won’t be responsible. Your father will,’ Lily whispered. ‘I know that it’s difficult, but you know what you have to do. You’re a good man.’

He heard her words but didn’t let himself absorb them. She was just being nice. Just trying to convince him to go to the police. She didn’t mean what she said.

Jack sighed. ‘It isn’t just my fortune: it’s my aunt’s, my cousins’, our staff’s, all the shareholders’... Not to mention I could be sending my elderly father to jail.’

‘But if you don’t say anything you could make it even worse.’

‘I can’t destroy the whole company. It isn’t just the Thorpe family that depends on Thorpe Media.’

‘You don’t know what’s going to happen—you don’t know the extent of the problem. You said so yourself. And even if some people do lose their jobs, what’s worse? Some highly paid professionals being made redundant or more people getting hurt? More people being blackmailed? More crooked deals?’

Lily made good points, but he could counter every one of them. It wasn’t as simple as she wanted to believe—especially as he didn’t know what he would expose if he went to the police. What worried him, and what he couldn’t confess to Lily, was his own naivety.

Why hadn’t he noticed? Why hadn’t he seen what was going on? He could explain his own blindness by the loyalty he owed his father. But what about the rest of the board? The rest of their staff? Had no one else noticed? What was the extent of his father’s cover-up and who else would Jack expose?

And if it all came out, what could he possibly do to fix it? His father might be able to live with the death of a man on his conscience, but Jack wasn’t sure he could. He wasn’t sure that Thorpe Media could.

‘Your business, E-Quinox Media, is separate to the rest of the group. It could still survive,’ said Lily.

Despite the fact that she feigned nonchalance, and claimed not to know what he’d been up to since their divorce, she must have been paying some attention to know these things. It made his heart a fraction lighter. But not light enough.

‘Lily, I started E-Quinox with Thorpe money. Everything I have...everything I’ve worked for...is tainted.’

‘You don’t know that the corruption even goes back that far.’

He didn’t know how badly stained the reputation of Thorpe Media would be if it came out, but it would certainly be damaged. ‘I don’t know that it doesn’t either. Are you really asking me to turn my father in to the police?’

Lily pressed her palm to her chest. ‘I’m not asking you to do anything. I’m just saying I believe you know right from wrong.’

How was she so confident? How, after everything, could she still believe the best of him?

He gave a sigh, deep and frustrated. ‘It isn’t as simple as you think it is.’

‘I’m not naïve. I do know that someone like your father didn’t get where he is by being a really nice guy. Business is ruthless. And I know you didn’t become successful by—’

‘By being a nice guy?’ he offered.

She pulled a face. Despite what she might think, he tried to be a good guy, and he tried to make fair deals. He treated people with respect. But if his life, his fortune, everything he believed about himself and his family, was all based on a lie...? Then he didn’t know anything any more.

‘You don’t understand what the fallout could be...the scandal. We’ll all be ruined.’

‘Don’t patronise me. I know exactly what it’s like to be in the eye of a scandal. But I also know that scandals do pass. One day the only people who care about them are the gossip mags, and even they start to look ridiculous after a while.’

‘This isn’t like our divorce, you know.’

Lily’s jaw dropped, and her face couldn’t have turned redder if he’d slapped her with his palm, not his words. Shame flooded his veins. Lily had been so calm and measured as he’d told her his story. She had every right to say, I told you so about his father’s iniquities. But she hadn’t. Not once. She understood how close he was to his father. She understood why this was so hard for him. She’d only encouraged him to be a good man, and he’d responded with words that had wounded her.

Before he could say anything else, she turned and left the room.

CHAPTER TEN

HE’D RATHER HAVE been sleeping in the same bed as Lily, curled around her, knowing that no matter what else was going on in the world at least she was safe in his arms. Instead, he had to be content with Daisy snoring in the corner.

Jack woke before dawn again, his body clock still resolutely set to New York time. He opened his laptop and resumed the task of going through the business files. All the transactions seemed fair, everything was properly documented, the paper trails complete. Everything had been approved by the board and double-checked by the lawyers.

Jack sighed and rubbed his eyes. He could spend his whole life looking for something that wasn’t even there.

The next file he chose was regarding the sale of a regional Australian newspaper group to an Australian media company. The price was right, and the deal made sense, but it jogged a memory for Jack. The week the deal had been completed, the Australian chairman, Damien Masters, had joined them in New York to finalise matters and meet them for dinner. They had entertained the man at his father’s penthouse and the evening had been pleasant.

Except that his father had kept calling the man Douglas. Jack had corrected him, but John had just laughed it off. He had kept getting it wrong, and Jack had given up correcting him after Damien had told him to forget it. Jack had apologised, but Damien had insisted it wasn’t a problem.

Jack had forgotten the incident until this moment. In a random or isolated social occasion such a thing might have been nothing, but they had been working on that deal for a while, and Jack thought now, looking back on it, that perhaps it hadn’t been the small matter he’d brushed it off as being.

Or was he reading too much into it? Maybe he should just forget the whole thing. Let the board approve the Western State Media deal and get on with his life.

Yeah, Lily wouldn’t like that.

Since when do you care so much about what Lily thinks?

Jack shut his laptop with a little too much force and stood.

‘Daisy, let’s go.’

The snow had stopped momentarily, but there was little warmth in the sun as they made their way to the main road and the meadow.

Lily.

He shouldn’t have told her. He had known all along what her response would be: go to the police. Simple, yet naïve.

He bit down on nothing as he remembered snapping at her. Insinuating that his current predicament was worse than their divorce. The two things were different, but no less devastating than one another. Though time had dulled the pain, his divorce had been far worse than what he was going through now. But what if the business scandal broke? What if it ripped through the entire Thorpe empire, taking innocent people down with it?

Lily wanted to bring things out into the open, yet Jack’s instinct was to hide things. Not to confront them. He’d done it with their divorce—never giving her a chance to explain—and he wanted to do it now. Stick his head in the sand and forget anything had ever happened.

Why was he like that?

You know why. It’s easier that way. You’re less likely to get hurt.

Was he really that gutless?

Maybe so.

Maybe Lily’s kiss with Drake had been as insignificant as she insisted it was.

Maybe it hadn’t just been insignificant, maybe it had also been understandable.

Maybe Lily’s kiss with Drake hadn’t been the unforgiveable crime he’d thought it was.

And maybe, just maybe, Jack had let his father and his attitudes towards women influence him on this as well.

Jack’s mother had cheated on his father—a fact John constantly reminded his son of. Helena Thorpe had left for Paris when Jack was young, and Jack had never seen her again. She had died two years later, when Jack was six.

It was Jack’s own attitude that needed a reset.

Could he change?

Could he start with Lily?

Lily had been surprised by Jack’s story about his father, but not shocked. She knew John Thorpe was a bully, but had figured he restricted his threats to women he didn’t want to marry his son. It hadn’t crossed her mind that he would use those tactics in the business world.

And yet, logically, there was no reason why he wouldn’t threaten people indiscriminately. The strategy had got Lily out of Jack’s life—why wouldn’t someone who was bereft of a moral compass use tactics like that in his professional life as well? In all likelihood his behaviour towards Lily was typical of the way he usually conducted business.

She felt sorry for Jack—and yet she didn’t at the same time. She was glad not to be in his shoes, and she didn’t envy the decision he had to make. But she was also proud of herself for not saying the four little words that were still screaming in her brain: I. Told. You. So.

It brought her too little joy, far too late, to have this sort of vindication.

She knew Jack was torn. Torn between loyalty to his father and loyalty to his employees and shareholders. Torn between his love for his father and breaking the law.

Torn between his father and her.

For the first time ever, in all the years they’d known each other, she sensed Jack was contemplating choosing her over his father.

Are you really asking me to turn my father in to the police?

She did want that, but she would never—could never—ask him to report his own father to the authorities. She wanted Jack to find a path out of this mess legally and morally—but because he wanted to, not because she was asking him to.

She resolved not to bring any of it up again; it was none of her business. She was not part of his life and could never be again. Far too much water had passed under that rickety old bridge.

Lily opened her laptop and started to type. She might as well keep busy. Going over her conversation with Jack wasn’t going to help her or him. She’d wait until he was ready to talk. Until he was ready to apologise for what he’d said to her.

Lily typed and typed. The sky went black and the house went cold. Lily fell asleep with her laptop still open.

When she woke it was light outside, but only just. She was momentarily disorientated, with no idea of what day or time it was. The events of the day before came in chunks. Some happy, some painful. Many confused.

She wrapped a blanket around herself and went towards the kitchen. The house was eerily quiet. She should be hearing Jack moving around in the kitchen by now, talking to Daisy.

She checked his room. As empty as the whole house felt.

She even called out. ‘Jack? Daisy?’

No response.

All the lights in the main room were out and the fire was barely glowing embers. It looked as though he hadn’t been in here for hours. She tossed a small log on the fire and poked, but the embers glowed for only an instant before turning black.

‘Damn it.’

Jack was usually so good at keeping the fire going. She found some newspaper and pressed it gently to the embers. It smouldered. She sat close to the fire, gently tending it for the next little while.

He wasn’t here; she’d have heard if he was. As much as she tried to block his presence out when she was in her half of the cabin, working, she was always aware of his movements. Her body was always aware of him—her skin, her muscles, her heart—even if she willed her brain not to think about him.

She went back to her room and tried to write, but the words wouldn’t come and those that did made no sense. She shivered and her eyes were drawn to the window. It was snowing again.

Where was he? How long had he been gone? Sure, he was angry—they both were—but he should be back by now, to sulk in front of her or maybe argue with her some more.

What if he was injured? Lying somewhere unable to get up? She was the only one who knew he was here. If he had disappeared, she’d have to tell someone. Could she go looking for him on her own? She didn’t have the appropriate clothes or footwear, and visibility was low. She’d be likely to get herself lost. Or worse.

Eventually she abandoned her writing, went back to the kitchen and looked in the fridge. She should cook something. Not that she was hungry—heavens, her stomach felt as if it had shrunk to a tenth of its normal size—but Jack would be hungry when he got back.

She chopped. And when she’d chopped enough vegetables to feed a soup kitchen she searched for something to tidy.

When there was no more cleaning or cooking to be done she got to work biting her nails.

To her, there was no decision for him to wrestle with: Jack should go to the police, tell them what his father had done.

But if it was your mother or your sister? Would it be so easy?

Lily sighed. No, it wasn’t easy. But a man had died, so surely Jack had to tell someone what he knew? Surely covering it up was worse?

Lily had begun pacing by the front door when she heard a bark and her heart leapt. She threw open the front door and Daisy bounded up to her, damp but hot. Jack emerged slowly from the darkness. When he stepped into the light he stopped and regarded Lily.

‘How did you know we were here?’

‘I heard Daisy.’

He twisted his mouth but said nothing more as he walked past her into the foyer and took off his sodden boots.

‘I’m making soup. It won’t be long.’

Fifteen minutes later they were eating the soup in silence. It wasn’t exactly a Jack Thorpe feast, but she thought she hadn’t done too badly. He ate it without stopping to speak, which either meant he liked it or he was simply starving. After he was finished, she could tell the exact second he relaxed. The air in the room shifted. Even Daisy looked up from her bowl at him, with a curious look on her face.

‘It’s snowing again. I was worried about you,’ she confessed.

He sighed. ‘I’m sorry for snapping at you last night. You listened to me. I sought your advice and then I was angry about it. I’m sorry. I truly don’t think our divorce was nothing.’

‘Apology accepted. I’m sorry if I was too blunt about your father.’

He shook his head and picked up her hand. Then he leant forward and looked at her—really looked at her.

‘I know I said it yesterday, but I’m going to say it again now. I am so sorry, Lily. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you told me what my father had done. I just couldn’t believe he was like that. I’m still having trouble processing it. I know it isn’t much of an excuse, and I know that being young isn’t an excuse either, but I didn’t want to believe that my father could be like that. I loved him. I idolised him. But you were my wife—I loved you too. And I should have treated you with respect. It’s a mistake I’m going to regret for the rest of my life.’

Now, that was an apology. Lily’s throat constricted. For a moment she feared a tear might escape from her tear ducts, but she swallowed it back.

‘Thank you for saying that,’ she said softly. ‘Jack, I do know it was hard for you. I understand the pressure he put you under... I understand that I was asking you to choose between him and me.’

Jack shook his head. ‘No excuse.’

In all the years she’d known him she’d never seen him so vulnerable, so open with her—not even last night. He’d always shown her more of himself than she’d seen him give the world, but that was understandable. They’d been in love...they’d been married. But this was something else. This was a true acknowledgement of what had happened between them and his part in it. It was more of an apology than she’d ever hoped to have.

And at the same time her heart broke for him. Poor Jack, who was only now learning what his father was. John Thorpe was Jack’s hero, and Jack had just seen his hero unmasked.

‘He’s your father and you love him. It may not excuse everything, but it is something.’

Lily’s words reached into Jack’s chest, through his ribs, and cracked his heart wide open. He hadn’t expected her forgiveness, and he still didn’t, but neither had he expected her understanding. to have that was like a gift...like a ray of hope.

Lily stood and started to clear the table.

‘Leave it. You cooked. Go and sit by the fire.’

Lily’s eyes darted back and forth with indecision.

‘Sit down and I’ll bring you a cup of coffee.’

Her face cracked into a smile and she moved to the fire.

If you’d asked him a week ago what were the things in the world he could trust the most he’d have said his father, his own self, and the power of money to influence human behaviour. Now he realised that only the most cynical of those points was true.

He cleared up the food, made two cups of coffee and joined her on the couch.

‘Can you promise me something?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘Anything.’

‘You don’t know what I’m going to ask.’

She smiled again, this time flirty and, he thought, slightly suggestive.

‘It doesn’t matter.’ He’d do anything for her if she gave him the chance. ‘You can ask me anything.’

He held her azure gaze. Held those eyes that the camera had adored and the screen had worshipped, still as blue and magnificent as they’d been when she was twenty.

‘Promise me not to leave the cabin again without telling me.’

Had she really been that worried about him? It hadn’t been his intention to worry her. But he realised now he’d been unkind to stay out for all that time without telling her where he’d gone. He’d just needed space, air, time to think. He hadn’t solved all his problems, but he had realised anew how badly he’d treated Lily.

She had a point about his going to the police—he knew her well enough to know that that was what she’d say all along. And deep down he knew that was the right thing to do. But that didn’t make it any easier. What he had figured out on his walk was that he wanted to forget about his father for a few hours—for the next while. There was only one thing he wanted to think about. One person.

‘I think I can commit to that,’ he said. ‘There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than inside.’

She moved across the couch and snuggled into him.

‘Everything that’s happened these past few days can’t go outside—it has to stay within these walls. I can’t go through all that again,’ she said.

Jack didn’t even think it needed saying. He knew what she was referring to, and he knew he couldn’t go through it again either: the intense public speculation, the rancorous judgement—all of it.

In some ways it was as if his marriage to Lily had never actually ended. The rest of the world still seemed fascinated by it and, while no one besides the two of them and Drake knew the exact reasons why it had ended, the tabloids still speculated endlessly about a possible reunion. They both knew that the last thing they needed was anyone finding out about them being here together. The press, his friends—the whole world, it seemed—were relentless in their quest to see he and Lily back together.

‘Of course it will.’

And yet...

For the first time since he’d found Drake Johnson with his arms wrapped around his wife Jack began to wonder. It was as if a world of possibilities had opened up—an alternative universe, as it were—where it might be possible for them to be together again.

He no longer burnt with anger, but with something else. The sight of Lily sitting in the firelight, the highlights in her dark hair catching the flickering rays and her shirt skimming over her perfect curves, made him wonder if it was such a ridiculous idea. He remembered the way his body had pressed against hers yesterday evening. And the memory of her face, her sighs as they’d lain in his bed together, was nearly enough to bring him undone then and there.

It was certainly enough to make him move closer to her on the sofa.

When she smiled at him the rest of the world, all doubts and worries, everything else, dropped away. He took her hand, unsure if she would push him away. She didn’t. Her fingers relaxed in his, pliant and soft. He turned her hand slowly over between his. She had short, clean, unmanicured fingers, silky skin. He saw one or two sunspots that had not been there when she’d been younger. Ten years had passed since he’d held these beautiful hands in his. He didn’t want to wait another ten until he held them again.

Her face was bare, her eyes unadorned, unlike her face on the big screen or the inside of a book’s dust jacket. She looked as she had when they’d been together. When she’d trusted him. It was as if they had never broken up, as though they were still together...

‘Can we play a game?’ he asked hoarsely.

‘Trivial Pursuit?’

‘No, a game where for one night we don’t talk about the past. Or the future.’

‘I like that game. I’m very good at it. I reckon I can beat you.’

He smiled. He reckoned he would win this contest.

His first move was to bring his face close to hers. She countered, her movements mirroring his, and their lips met halfway. Just like they always had. In a perfect compromise of soft and hard, push and pull. Her lips parted for his. She let him in and his heart unfurled. Sparks spread from his lips to his chest and lower. Her tongue teased his and waves of pleasure rushed through him.

He kissed her behind her ear, down her throat, softly but definitively. She would stay in the cabin because she wanted to. She would stay because she couldn’t bear to leave. Not because she was stranded. She would stay because she wanted to feel his body against hers as much as he wanted to feel her move in his arms.

She tugged at his shirt, searching for the skin of his stomach, seeming to need his touch as much as he needed hers. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt and slid his hand inside. When his fingers touched the soft naked skin of her breasts, his fingers froze. She wasn’t wearing a bra. With that thought, every muscle in his body was hardened. His blood grew heavier, pushing, straining him nearly to his limit.

Her moans were the sexiest damn sound he’d ever heard in his life. All his senses were running in overdrive, and he knew he needed to pull them back or risk losing control completely. The smell of Lily’s skin made him more excited still, the scent of her own excitement almost too much for him to take. Each kiss was more exquisite than the last, sweetness and agony swirling in equal quantities in an amazing, exhilarating concoction.

He’d adored her when he was twenty-two, without the perspective on life of a true connoisseur. Now he knew she was magnificent.

The next morning Jack opened the curtains to his room. The snow had stopped falling and the temperature was above zero for the first time in days. Hints of blue peeked out from the clouds.

‘I have to take Daisy for a walk,’ he told Lily.

At the sound of her name, Daisy ran into the room.

‘What size shoe are you?’ he asked Lily.

‘I don’t think your boots will fit me.’

Lily lay sprawled out on his bed, limbs tangled in the sheets and a relaxed, satiated expression on her face.

He smiled. The sight of her on his bed was far more spectacular than the UNESCO-protected view from the window.

‘Meredith’s might. There’s a couple of pairs in the mud room. I thought you might want to come for a walk too. The snow’s melting.’

‘I’d love to. I’ve been cooped up here since I arrived.’

She rolled out of bed and Jack had to stop himself from staring too long at her sensuous curves.

There were boots of various sizes in the mud room. She found a pair that fitted her well enough, as well as a thick jacket, and they headed out into the snow and the sunshine with Daisy.

Something had definitely shifted between them. A crack had opened—just a crack, but Jack had glimpsed through it to a life where he and Lily could potentially work through their differences.

In a welcome change from yesterday’s greyness, the world this morning was full of colour. The green of the evergreen trees and the reds and browns of the tree trunks contrasted with the perfectly white snow, and everything was overlaid with the clear light from a dense blue sky.

They had considered last night’s game a draw, neither having mentioned the past or the future. But he wasn’t sure if they were still playing this morning.

She cheated on you. Are you just going to forget it?

The voice came from over his shoulder. He recognised the voice. It wasn’t his own subconscious, or a bad fairy on his shoulder. It was someone else.

Twenty-four-year-old Jack might have listened to that voice, but thirty-four-year-old Jack knew life was far more complicated than the voice would have him believe. Thirty-four-year-old Jack had to stop listening to that voice and start trusting.

The three of them walked in single file along the path, letting the sun soak into their faces, the fresh air fill their lungs. Lily chatted to Daisy about the wildflowers and the trees, as if they were old friends. Lily was happy, and Jack couldn’t help but smile like a fool.

She turned back to face him now. Her dark hair blew behind her in the breeze. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were flushed with colour. She smiled at him and his chest constricted. He reached out and took her hand in his, spun her back to him and wrapped her in his embrace.

Looking down at her, he said, ‘I wish I could go back.’

She shook her head. ‘Jack, there’s no going back.’

No, but they could move forward. That was what he was trying to tell her.

‘I’ve apologised.’

He’d told her he was sorry, and he had listened to what she’d told him about what had really happened between her and Drake.

‘I know you have—yesterday. But you can’t go back and change what happened any more than I can.’

‘I know what I did was wrong. I know I need to start by trusting you. Do you think you could ever trust me again?’

She strode off along the narrow path. He caught up with her, but she didn’t slow.

‘Why does it matter if I trust you?’ she asked. ‘Can’t we just leave things as they are?’

Because I want to see you again.

‘Because I want to put this behind us.’

‘We have, Jack.’

‘I want us to be able to move on. Move forward.’

He wanted them to forgive one another so they could move on. And he wanted to move on with her. With them together. He wanted her in his life again.

But he realised the way he’d said it sounded like something he’d tell a boardroom full of executives. Not a lover.

Lily halted, and Jack nearly slipped over as he pulled up short to stop himself barrelling into her. She still hadn’t responded to what he’d said. She was just standing there, looking around the meadow. As if she was looking for something.

‘Where’s Daisy?’

Jack spun around, searching for a dash of gold amongst the white.

He couldn’t see her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘DAISY!’ THEY CALLED, their voices echoing around the valley.

‘She can’t have gone far,’ Lily said.

‘There are bears...’

A chill slid through Lily’s body.

‘We would surely have heard if...’ She didn’t want to finish that sentence.

‘We were too busy talking,’ he said shortly.

You were too busy hinting that you want to see me again. Is it any wonder we forgot to watch Daisy?

‘You go ahead. I’ll go back,’ Lily suggested.

Jack took two determined strides forward then stopped. ‘No, we should stay together.’

‘It’ll be better if we go in opposite directions.’

‘And more dangerous. What if...?’

‘What if what? I’ll stick to the path.’

Lily kept her voice as calm as she could, but inside she was shaking. She knew she had to be the calm one; Daisy was Jack’s dog and he was clearly distressed by her sudden disappearance. His face had become several shades paler and his voice quivered. He stood frozen in the middle of the path.

She pointed ahead. ‘You walk that way for ten minutes. I’ll go this way, then we’ll meet back here. She can’t have gone further than that.’

Unless she’s wandered off into the snow...then we may never find her.

Lily didn’t give voice to those thoughts, and before Jack could argue she turned and followed the path back the way they had come.

‘I want to move forward.’

What did he mean, exactly? Was that management speak for something? Or did he actually mean he wanted to see her again?

The thought made the ground shift underneath her. For one second a fissure opened in her heart and she glimpsed a new world, another life. But that crack closed again as quickly as it had appeared. Jack was living in a fantasy world if he thought they could take their relationship out of the cabin and back to their proper lives. He was deluding himself. He might have apologised for what he’d done in the past, but if his fragile trust of her was tested in the future would he choose her? Or his father again?

You know why he didn’t believe you, and you’ve always known that the loyalty he owes his father is far older and deeper than any he owes you. He might love you, but the Thorpe family is his identity.

She couldn’t entangle herself with them again. Jack might think he’d changed, but his father certainly hadn’t. If anything, John Thorpe might be even more manipulative than ever. Who knew what attempts he’d make to ruin her life if she got back together with Jack?

‘Daisy! Here, girl! I’ve got treats!’ she yelled into the groves of ponderosa.

But there was no sign of Daisy’s golden fur and wagging tail.

She couldn’t expect Jack to believe her over his father if it came to it again. He still couldn’t do it fully now—not even when he had seen the evidence of his father’s treachery with his own eyes. Even now, with everything he knew about the Western State Media deal, even with his father’s confession that he’d been blackmailing people, Jack was still having trouble believing John Thorpe could not be trusted.

Lily looked at her watch. It had been five minutes. Her heart was pounding and her face was sweaty, yet her feet were icy. There were holes in the soles of the boots she was wearing that she hadn’t noticed when she’d tried them on at the cabin. The snow was seeping in and soaking her socks with each step.

She pressed on. Another minute. Another three. When her ten minutes were up she turned back, and hoped with every bend in the path that she’d see Jack and Daisy.

She didn’t.

Eventually she rounded the last curve and saw Jack standing alone in the middle of the path.

‘So we go off track—one in each direction from this point,’ she announced.

‘No, we don’t,’ Jack said.

They stood for a while longer. Lily stamped her feet to get the sensation back in her feet. She rubbed her hands together.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.

‘Nothing.’

‘You’re cold.’

‘I’m fine.’

Jack stepped over to her and took her bare hands in his gloved ones. He blew warm air onto them. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think of gloves.’

I’m sorry.

Jack had apologised to her for the past, but had she truly forgiven him? Could she? It would mean letting go of the anger and resentment she’d clung to for the past decade. It would mean genuinely forgiving him. And that was about so much more than regret. It would be saying it was okay that she’d been hounded out of her career, left to fend off the paparazzi, the media, the gossip all alone.

Could she really move forward after that?

Her chest was tight and her head light. She wanted to be with Jack; she longed for him, ached for him. Felt truly alive when she was with him. But that was only how she felt here, at the cabin. The cabin was not the real world and she and Jack eventually had to go back and live and work in that real world. A life with him beyond the cabin was surely a fantasy only.

Jack bit his gloves off with his teeth and handed them to her. She hesitated before accepting them and slipping them on. She didn’t want to tell him about the leaky boots. And then she sneezed.

‘You’re going to get sick if you don’t go back to the cabin.’

‘How about I go ahead on the path and you go towards that meadow?’

‘No, we’re going back,’ he said.

‘What? No!’

‘We stay together. Anything else is madness.’

Lily remembered how worried she’d been when he hadn’t returned for so long the other day. It didn’t make sense for them to keep risking being separate. If one of them got into trouble the other would have no way of getting help.

‘Then let’s both go ahead,’ she suggested.

Jack regarded her with a thoughtful stare, then nodded.

They set off in a forward direction, calling as they went. The trees were no longer beautiful, just ominous in their sameness. Tall, green. Monotonous. They walked and walked, then backtracked. They must have done five laps of that stretch of path, but still they didn’t see Daisy.

The sun had reached the top of its path and was inching steadily downwards when Lily tripped over her own frozen feet.

Jack looked at the ground where she’d tripped. ‘How are the boots?’ she asked.

‘Okay,’ she said.

‘Are they too big?’

She shook her head.

‘They’re leaking, aren’t they?’

‘Just a little, but it’s fine.’

‘Hell, Lily.’ He turned and pulled at her elbow as he passed her. ‘Let’s go.’

‘But Daisy...?’

‘She’ll find her own way back. She was the one who ran away.’

‘Jack, you can’t mean that.’

‘I do. I love her—don’t get me wrong. But she’s not...’

He didn’t finish the sentence and dragged Lily behind him, making her trip again on the frozen blocks that had once been her feet.

She’s not... Not what? My favourite dog? What had he been about to say?

Lily kept calling for Daisy as they trudged back, though Jack was mostly silent.

She’s not my biggest problem?

Soon the path looked familiar again, and then they saw the turn-off to the cabin in the distance. Even though she had lost all feeling in her feet, and her shoulders shivered with each breath she took, the sight was not a welcome one.

‘She’ll find her way home...she knows this place,’ Lily said, trying to reassure herself.

Unless she did happen to meet a bear. Or a coyote.

Jack shrugged. His face was hard. As cold as Lily’s frozen feet.

They walked slowly up to the front door.

‘Jack, I’m sorry...’

‘No need to be. I lost her—not you.’

‘No! I mean, of course I’m sorry about Daisy. But I mean I’m sorry I don’t know if we can see one another again. After this.’

Jack’s mouth hung open and she could see his heart breaking in his blue eyes.

‘I like being with you here, but I just can’t go through all that again. Any of it.’

There was a bark, and seconds later Daisy bounded up to them. Jack’s arms still hung at his sides, and he didn’t reach for his dog when she jumped up at his chest. But then it was as if something snapped, and he returned to the world and hugged his dog, who was hot and sweaty after running goodness knew how far.

He let Daisy down and she gave Lily a bark in greeting.

‘Daisy, where did you get to? We were so worried.’

Lily rubbed the dog’s head. Then she looked up at Jack. He opened the door and Daisy ran inside. Jack followed, but Lily stayed outside. Frozen feet and all. Wasn’t he even going to acknowledge what she’d just said?

Realising she hadn’t followed them in, Jack turned. ‘You’re freezing. Come in.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated.

She didn’t know what else to say.

‘No, you’re right, Lily. There’s no going back. Get inside and have a warm shower,’ Jack said, and nodded towards the lower wing of the house.

She knew she was right. It was for the best. So why did she have a sick feeling deep in her stomach?

Lily showered and then climbed into her bed. She covered her head with the blankets and slept.

CHAPTER TWELVE

LILY WOKE A few hours later. She made herself some lunch and didn’t see Jack. Maybe he was sleeping too, or going through more business records in his room.

She went back to her room and tried to edit a few chapters, but the pages moved slowly and her mind was elsewhere. She’d written thousands of words in the past few days, so it was understandable that she was drained. But it wasn’t exhaustion that was keeping her fingers off the keyboard and her ears on the rest of the house.

When it was dark, she shut her laptop with a sigh and stood. They had to talk again at some point. Well, maybe they didn’t have to talk, but they did have to eat.

Because I want to move forward.

Jack was insane. They were not getting back together. Never. So apologising to each other gracefully was not something they needed to perfect.

Jack was in the kitchen, chopping.

‘Can I help?’ she offered.

He passed her some potatoes to peel, wiped his hands, and took out his phone. Moments later lazy jazz music filled the room. The casserole he had prepared was simmering and releasing all sorts of comforting smells into the room.

He poured her some wine and they sat and sipped it while they waited for the dinner to finish cooking.

‘Thanks again for the food,’ she said. Jack’s meals were far more nourishing than the frozen meals she’d planned to eat. Speaking of which... ‘If we eat all your food we’ll have to start on my frozen stuff,’ Lily said.

‘It won’t come to that. I brought a lot. And I can go and top up at Wawona if need be, once the roads are passable.’

He smiled at her and her stomach flipped, but her head jolted. Her plans were open-ended, as were his, but was he really suggesting—even after their discussion today—that they should stay here even once the snow had melted? Together? For how long?

‘Jack—’

He lifted his hand. ‘I know what you’re going to ask, and the answer is I don’t know. I want to take it a day at a time. An hour at a time. I want to enjoy this dinner with you. I want to enjoy this evening with you. I don’t want to think about the past and I don’t want to think about the future. Can we just keep doing that for a little longer?’

She swallowed and nodded. ‘I’d like that.’

They ate dinner, talked about movies they’d seen and common acquaintances, and laughed over current affairs. They covered all sorts of topics—everything apart from his father and their past. Two things that faded into the background once more for a few pleasant hours.

‘It’s the perfect evening for a hot tub, don’t you think?’ Jack said.

‘I don’t have a swimsuit.’

Jack grinned. ‘I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.’

Jack sat in the tub, arms spread wide, his head lolling back as he looked up at the sky. The sky was perfectly clear, and a million stars were visible in a way you would never see even in Monterey. Let alone LA. Forget Manhattan.

Lily laid her head on one of his comfortable shoulders and drew absent-minded circles on the other. The steam rose around them, cocooning them in their own bubble and blocking out the night and the rest of the world.

She didn’t want to leave. She was aware that the world existed beyond them, beyond this point in time, but she had no interest in it. She’d stay here until they were down to the last stale bread and frozen meals. But she didn’t tell Jack that. She imagined the look on his face if she confessed that she thought they should just abandon their lives and stay here for eternity.

The scary thing was she thought there was a good chance he would agree.

Just because you’ve talked about the past, and just because you’ve both apologised, that doesn’t mean anything for the future. You’re still different people, with different lives.

Jack Thorpe was as infuriating as ever. As unpredictable and unfathomable...and yet so heartbreakingly vulnerable and addictively tempting.

And the Thorpe dynasty was as big and powerful as ever. It had come close to destroying her once. Giving up acting had been hard—it had broken her heart nearly as much as losing Jack—but she’d been young enough to bounce back, build another career. If John Thorpe went for her career again, and she couldn’t earn a living from writing, what would be left for her? There was nothing else she knew how to do. If she went back to Jack and it all went wrong again, she wouldn’t survive taking on the Thorpes a second time.

It was best just to enjoy this moment: the relaxing warmth of the water, Jack’s secure embrace, and the million stars watching over them.

‘I planned it, you know,’ he murmured.

‘The hot tub? I figured.’

‘No, not that. Meeting you. I knew you were having lunch with Meredith that day at Soleil.’ When Lily’s mouth remained open, he explained, ‘Bradley told me you’d be there.’

Lily had always assumed it had been a coincidence that her agent and Jack’s best friend were a couple. And a coincidence that Jack had been in the car park of Beverly Hills’ most popular restaurant that day.

‘That’s why you didn’t use the valet parking,’ she whispered.

‘What?’

‘Never mind. Bradley told you I was there?’

‘Not on purpose. He let it slip that Meredith was going to be meeting you, and I couldn’t resist the chance to be there.’

‘Stalker, much?’

She pulled herself off his shoulder and smiled at him. Ambient light from the house shone out through one of the windows, and the stars twinkled like fairy lights above them. In the half-light she saw him smile back.

‘I wanted to meet you. As part-owner of the company that owned the studio you’d just signed with, I could have insisted on it.’

‘Exactly. So why go to all the trouble of locking your keys in your car?’

‘If I’d asked you to a business meeting it would have been clear that I was the boss and you were an employee.’

‘That’s more your father’s style.’

Jack grimaced. ‘Well, I suppose so. I thought about getting Meredith and Bradley to arrange a date, but a set-up would have been too forced. And, honestly, if we’d met at a party and I’d asked you out, what would you have said?’

She didn’t answer. She truly didn’t know. ‘Why are you telling me this now?’ she asked.

‘You don’t think I’m a creep or a bully?’

‘Oh, Jack, no.’

‘After everything with Dad...everything you’ve said to me these past few days... I’m questioning a lot of things about myself right now.’

‘Jack, I don’t think it’s creepy. It’s funny, actually.’

Jack pulled her closer, and she nuzzled her face into his chest.

‘Are you worried you’re like your father?’

‘I’m worried that I don’t know if I am or not. I’m worried that my fortune has been based on threats and lies. I’m worried I didn’t treat you well. I’m worried that I don’t deserve your forgiveness.’

She was so close to forgiving him. She understood why he’d done what he’d done—she’d always understood the predicament he’d been in. But forgiveness...? He was genuinely remorseful. And it was a fact that he had been so worried about her earlier he’d been prepared to leave Daisy in the snow. That was something she couldn’t reflect on without her chest constricting.

‘I don’t think you’re like him,’ she said honestly, and pressed her face harder into his chest.

She breathed him in, committing his scent to memory. Lingering cologne mixed with the salt water of the hot tub, the gentle steam from the water. Even if they did manage to put the past behind them, their path forward together would inevitably end when they left the cabin. Besides, they’d made a deal not to talk about the past. Or the future.

The hum of the motor was soporific; the vibration of the warm water was lulling Lily into sleep. She hardly heard Jack say, ‘Do you want to talk about David?’

Lily pressed her cheek against his lovely chest once more before she pulled back and looked at him.

‘You don’t have to,’ he said. ‘I don’t mean to pry. But it seems like a pretty big thing you’ve just gone through, and I feel like an insensitive jerk for not asking. So I figure I can’t win either way.’

Jack shrugged and lifted half his face into a lopsided grin. Lily was reminded instantly of the boy outside Soleil all those years ago.

‘It was mutual, I guess...as much as these things ever are. We talked about it...prevaricated. But eventually I realised it wasn’t going to work.’

‘Different schedules? Lifestyles?’

‘No, we’re actually pretty similar, and from similar backgrounds. He grew up in Oakland with a single mother, and he’s earnt every penny he has. We think alike on most things.’ Lily felt the muscles of Jack’s body stiffen against hers. ‘We just didn’t think alike on the one thing that really matters to me.’

Lily could sense Jack was holding his breath. He didn’t dare ask what that one thing was. She wasn’t sure if she should tell him. David was an ex, but a recent, decent ex. She still owed him a certain amount of loyalty and would expect it in return.

But she was here with Jack now. And, while they had agreed not to discuss the past or the future, no promises had been made so none could be broken. But Lily owed it to him to be truthful. And she owed it to herself. To Past Lily and Future Lily.

‘My sister had a baby in March.’

‘Yes, you told me. Georgia.’

A burst of warmth rushed through her: he’d remembered.

‘I just adore her. More than I thought it was possible to love anyone. I’d do anything for her.’

Jack nodded, but let her keep on speaking.

‘I always thought I’d have kids—at least I never believed I wouldn’t. I guess I assumed that David and I would... Eventually. But it turned out he didn’t want them. He said he loved me, but...’

Lily had spent the past few months discussing David’s reservations about children with him. She didn’t need to rehash them with Jack.

‘He has his reasons, and so there we are.’

Lily placed her hands on her knees and the water sloshed around the tub. She waited for Jack to say something like That’s understandable. Or, Well I don’t want kids either. But he didn’t. Instead, he reached for her hand. He pulled her across him and lifted her onto his lap. He took her face in his hands and brushed his lips gently against hers.

He hasn’t run.

With that realisation Lily let her body relax into his kiss. Jack ran his hand up her back and slipped his fingers through her hair. His kisses became deeper, more resolute. Her muscles melted as her blood pumped faster.

But before she lost herself entirely in the kiss she pulled her lips back. ‘What about you?’

‘What about me?’

She looked up at the stars.

You have to ask him. You know that.

She drew a deep breath. ‘Kids. Do you want to have kids?’

They both exhaled at the same time.

‘I can’t really answer that now.’

‘So it’s a no.’

She waved the air to brush her question away. What did it matter anyway? It wasn’t as if he’d be having kids with her.

‘No, it’s an I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on in my life right now.’

‘I get it,’ she said, but her voice cracked.

It’s okay that he’s not sure, because you don’t have a future together, remember?

‘Lily, it’s complicated.’

‘I know. I understand. With everything that’s going on with your father.’

Jack shifted his position in the tub and looked at her directly. ‘It’s not just that. It’s my mother too.’

Jack’s mother had died when he was young. She knew he’d always been sad about it, but John Thorpe seemed to have filled any gap left by her absence. Helena Thorpe had been an actress, but that was just about all Lily had ever known about her.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever told you everything about her.’

‘I know she died when you were young.’

‘Yes, but she and my father were already separated by then.’

Lily had a vague recollection of knowing that too. ‘So you weren’t living with her when she died?’

‘No, I hadn’t seen her for a while. A couple of years.’

‘Oh, Jack, that’s awful. I didn’t realise.’

‘I don’t think I ever talked about it. I think it’s because I was always told not to. It was always a secret, but Mum cheated on my father. She had an affair with one of her co-stars.’

Everything around Lily stopped for a moment. Jack’s mother had had an affair? ‘I don’t think I ever knew that.’

‘No, it was kept very quiet. Dad managed to keep it quiet. You couldn’t manage it these days. My mother left acting, the States, and me. Dad was furious, but that fury masked his devastation. I don’t think he ever got over her.’

John Thorpe had never remarried. That only now struck her as strange. Most of his contemporaries were on their third wife. At least.

‘Oh, my goodness. You’re serious?’ The significance of what he was telling was dawning on her bit by bit. ‘No wonder he hated me.’

‘He didn’t hate you. He just...’

‘No wonder he tried to get me out of your life. And when that didn’t work he forced me to stop acting.’

‘We’ve been over this, Lily. And I’ve apologised on his behalf.’

‘Except you never told me this. It explains things, doesn’t it?’

‘What does it explain?’

‘Maybe he didn’t do it out of spite, but out of love? Maybe he genuinely wanted to protect you from the kind of hurt he went through with your mother?’

Jack moved across the hot tub, away from her.

‘You must have thought about that?’ she said.

He shook his head. ‘Lily, I’m ashamed to say I didn’t even believe that he’d tried to sabotage your career in the first place. I didn’t think about his motivations.’

It was hard for Lily to reassess John Thorpe with this new information. ‘How did I not know this about your parents?’ she asked.

‘Like I said, the story was buried.’

‘How?’

‘You tell me. No one but us and Drake knows why we really broke up,’ Jack said.

And sometimes I don’t know either, thought Lily.

‘My mother moved to Paris. Never looked back. I don’t know what went on between her and my father. I was too young. I only know that one day she brought me Holly, kissed me, and said goodbye. Apparently she was diagnosed with breast cancer six months later. I wasn’t told anything, really. I was told we were going to visit her, and then I was told that she had died. I think Dad was trying to protect me. I’ve just never been sure form what.’

‘Oh, Jack, that’s just awful. And you were—what? Five? Six when she died?’

He nodded. ‘Six. So that’s what I mean by complicated.’

She slid across the seat to him. She couldn’t help but hug him. Four-year-old Jack, given a dog and left behind for ever by his mother.

And that was why Jack was not certain if he wanted a family. The scars from his childhood were deeper, more painful, and more complicated than she’d ever realised.

A cool breeze slid over them and she shivered. They’d never spoken about kids back then, being so young and full of optimism. Maybe if they had stayed together the children issue would have been the one to break them up in the end anyway?

She wasn’t sure how to feel, but Jack pulled her close to him again and she looked back up at the endless sky.

She exhaled. She didn’t need to think about the future—only this moment. Whatever else happened, she would now be able to look back on the past with far less pain. They had shared some very happy times and she had some wonderful memories. Over the past few days Lily had felt able to open up those memories and look at them again.

‘How long were you waiting there?’ Lily asked.

‘Where?’

‘Outside Soleil,’ she said.

‘I don’t remember. But however long it was, I would have waited longer.’

Lily smiled.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

FOR THE FIRST time since she’d arrived, Lily heard the birds singing outside. The drip-drip-drip of melting snow echoed over the valley. The kitchen curtains were wide open, revealing the morning sunshine and the full beauty of the landscape. She sipped her coffee and looked out. Her laptop was open in front of her, but her eyes kept being drawn upwards and outside, her mind less on her writing and more on what had passed between the two of them last night.

After all these years it felt as though she and Jack had reached a point of understanding, of closure. The burning anger she’d felt after their divorce had long faded, although confusion and uncertainty had persisted. Now maybe they could be friends. Discreetly, at any rate. They wouldn’t have to avoid each other if their paths happened to cross.

It was unlikely that they would see each other, though—especially now Meredith and Bradley had separated.

‘How’s the book coming?’ Jack opened his laptop across the table from hers and sat down.

‘Getting there. I still have some work to do, but I’ll have something to give my editor when I get back and I’ll make my deadline.’

It was strange how productive she’d been in the past few days. So much had happened in her life, but being up here with Jack had unlocked something in her and the words had flowed faster than they had in years.

Jack had inspired something in her.

Either that or she had purposely focused her thoughts and energy on the book because it was easier than focusing them on Jack.

‘What’s the book about?’ he asked.

‘It’s about a woman who’s been falsely accused of the murder of her ex-husband. She doesn’t have an alibi, and of course she’s wished him dead in a thousand ways and made no secret of it. The only way she can defend herself is to track her ex-husband down and prove he’s not dead.’

Jack leant forward. ‘But is he dead?’

Lily smiled. ‘You’ll have to read it to find out.’

‘Does it work out? Does it have a happy ending?’

‘That would be giving it away, wouldn’t it?’ She grinned, and when he grinned back her stomach turned cartwheels.

‘So, it’s like a romance?’

She snorted. ‘Hardly. It’s a thriller, Jack. They don’t get back together in the end, if that’s what you’re wondering. He’s a complete jerk.’

‘Oh.’ Jack turned from her and back to his screen and lowered his head. He seemed disappointed.

‘I told you—I don’t write romance,’ she said softly.

Putting the past behind them and resolving their differences was one thing, but they’d agreed not to talk about the future. As far as Lily was concerned there was nothing to be gained by thinking about a future with Jack. They both knew that couldn’t happen. Jack’s life was in turmoil. Even if she understood why he’d acted the way he had in the past, she didn’t trust him not to abandon her again on the basis of some lie John Thorpe might spin against her in the future. Besides, even if he managed to resolve things with his father, he might still decide he didn’t want children.

She went back to her screen, he to his. It was nice, working at the kitchen table, near the fire. Daisy lay at Jack’s feet, lifting her head every now and then for a scratch.

It was good being here together. Comfortable. Until he looked up and smiled at her and her stomach went off cartwheeling again.

She didn’t know what Jack was going to do about his father, but she did know one thing: it was a decision he had to make alone, and she couldn’t help. As much as she might want to offer advice, she was the last person in the world who should. Her opinion of John Thorpe was too low to be unbiased. And her feelings for Jack were too complicated to be objective.

‘Tea?’ she asked, and stood to boil the kettle.

‘That would be great, thanks.’

‘How’s your research going?’

Jack shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’ve found a few deals that I’m trying to look at more closely, but nothing is leaping out at me.’

‘Maybe your father was very good at covering his tracks.’

‘Or else Western State Media is an anomaly.’

Lily filled the kettle and rummaged in the cupboard for the tea bags. She felt his eyes on her and smiled across the kitchen at him.

‘Is it really such a bad idea? Seeing each other again after we leave here?’ he asked.

Lily’s fingers hovered over the teacups. She wasn’t sure if she’d heard him correctly. She looked back at him. He was staring at her, earnest, pale with uncertainty.

‘Jack, you know as well as I do it won’t work,’ she whispered.

Surely he saw that? The barriers that had been in their way a decade ago still existed—his father’s low opinion of her for starters.

‘Why?’ Jack jumped up and moved towards her. The kettle started to hum. ‘You’re single. I’m single. We’ve sorted out our differences, haven’t we?’

‘Well, yes, but it took us a decade to resolve one disagreement—that hardly means we’ll work well together.’

‘I’d say it was a once-in-a-lifetime disagreement, wouldn’t you?’

He smiled at her again, and her stupid stomach didn’t just cartwheel, it back-flipped and somersaulted in mid-air. If only she could look at that smile every day...

The kettle started to boil and she found she had to raise her voice slightly to hear herself speak. ‘It’s not that simple. The press would... They’d crucify us.’

‘Crucify?’

‘Well, maybe not. But they’d never leave us alone. I can’t do that again.’

She’d barely survived the first time.

Jack picked up her hands and wrapped his around them. He moved his face close to hers and the room started to spin. She closed her eyes and dropped her head to make it stop.

She was falling for him again. If she had ever fallen out of love with him in the first place. The truth was she’d never stopped loving him. Sure, at times she’d hated him, but the love had always been there too. Just overshadowed by feelings of hurt and frustration. But the closer they became now, the more she was aware of how far apart they really were. Being here, away from the world, was one thing. But back in the real world it would be impossible.

Jack-an’-Lil. The intrusion into their lives would be immense, her mother would never recover from the shock, and Meredith would never forgive her. What about all the people who’d helped her pull her life back together after the break-up? All the people who’d protected her from the fallout? All the people who had been her loyal friends and confidantes over the years? She couldn’t do it to them.

The kettle reached boiling point, hissed and screeched. They both turned and looked at it. She wondered if the automatic switch was going to turn it off or whether the damn thing was broken. Finally it clicked off and the noise dropped away.

‘Is it really about the rest of the world, Lily? Or is it about us?’

‘I’d be risking everything.’

‘It’s my father, isn’t it?’

‘Your father has already taken one career from me.’

And it seems he’s as ruthless as he ever was.

‘I can’t risk my second career...my reputation.’

My heart.

She didn’t have that strength in her. Her first break-up with Jack had taken every ounce of resilience she’d ever possessed.

‘I can’t get over you again.’

‘I’m not asking you to.’

He squeezed her hands in his, but as his grip tightened she only felt the need to run away.

She pulled her hands out of his. ‘Jack, you know it’s not that simple.’

‘I’ll make it that simple. We’ll forget about the rest of the world. Pretend it doesn’t exist.’

‘But it does exist,’ she said. ‘Maybe not up here. We can pretend here for a few more days. But eventually we’ll run out of food. Eventually we’ll have to return to the real world and you will have to make your choices.’

She couldn’t even tell him what those choices were, because that would mean interfering between him and his father. He had to make those decisions himself. And he couldn’t do it with her because she was biased against his father. And if he couldn’t make such a momentous life decision with her at his side, then what was the point of them being together?

‘Choices? You’re still asking me to turn my own father in to the police? That’s what this is about, isn’t it?’

‘Jack, I’m not asking you to do anything. I’ve told you—it’s not my business, not my place.’

‘You still think I should tell them.’

She sighed deeply. ‘If you must know, the Jack I know...the Jack I...’

The words were left unspoken. Sensibly so. She couldn’t ask him to turn his father in. But she couldn’t be with him unless he did. And he’d never forgive her either way.

‘Jack, you don’t want me involved. You said so two days ago.’

Jack frowned, but didn’t argue.

‘I don’t want to see you caught up in his mess. I don’t want to see you getting into trouble for something he did,’ she said.

‘I’m already in trouble. What if my life, my own business, is built on a lie? I’ve always believed that my father is the most remarkable, talented man in the world. I respected him professionally. I admired him for raising me alone after my mother left.’

A decade ago Jack had had to choose between his father and Lily. Now it seemed he had to do the same thing again. But this time Lily knew better than to demand his choice. She knew from bitter experience that there was no right answer here. There were no winners.

‘Jack, when we broke up my life changed for ever. I won’t go through that again.’

Lily shook her head, her throat too tight to speak any more.

Jack’s face turned from brightly hopeful to dark. Then he shook his head.

‘Daisy!’ he called. ‘We’re going for a walk.’

Without Jack and Daisy the house was quiet. But her heart was screaming and her soul was whimpering.

He’d put her in an impossible position. His father was still between them and would be for a long time. Lily couldn’t be with Jack while he was still loyal to his father—and yet she couldn’t imagine being with him if he was not. Jack had an impossible decision to make, and either way Lily would have to deal with the consequences.

But even if John Thorpe hadn’t blackmailed his way into a dozen business deals, so what?

Lily’s chest tightened.

Suggesting they see each other again was not only delaying the inevitable, it would also make the situation so much worse. Up here, in the privacy of the mountains, no one knew what was going on between them. But outside this bubble...? The chance of keeping even a platonic friendship a secret was non-existent.

The stress of their wedding and their marriage had almost broken her. Their divorce had. She’d lost her career and very nearly her sanity. But she’d managed to pick up the pieces and make a new, happier life for herself. It was happiness and security hard fought-for and won, and she couldn’t risk that.

But you’re older now. Stronger too. You’re no longer beholden to a studio—you’re your own boss. It’s completely different.

Maybe. But maybe not. The Thorpes were still so powerful in the entertainment industry. If John Thorpe decided he wanted to buy her publisher and cut her from the list there would be nothing stopping him from doing so.

Lily pressed her hand to her chest. More than anything she’d be risking her heart. She had never stopped loving Jack—not completely. There had always been a secret pocket of love for him, hidden away in a corner of her heart. How could there not be? They’d been together for two mostly wonderful years. They’d got married. Of course she’d loved him with everything that was in her—and did love like that ever really completely stop?

But sharing a history and a few days of passion didn’t mean you simply threw caution to the wind and exposed your soul to the universe. And that was what she’d be doing. She thought once again of her mother and sister and Meredith, and everyone else who’d stood by her and supported her through her break-up with Jack. If she started seeing him again, it would be a slap in the face to all of them.

She attempted some work, but it was useless. Every single one of her senses was alert to each wind gust or bird call outside. Was it Jack coming back? She longed for his tall, broad silhouette to come into view, but what would he say when he returned? What would she say? Would he tell her it was time to leave now the snow was melting? Or would he just get into his car and drive away without a word?

If only he’d waited a few more days to ask her, maybe she would have had a better handle on whatever it was between them. It was as if she was being lashed by waves and wasn’t sure which way was up. If only she’d had more time to think.

Her life was full of ‘if-onlys’.

If only it was simple.

If only they could love each other as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

A shrill noise made Lily nearly jump out of her seat. The sound of the phone ringing was as strange as it was unexpected, and it made her heart freeze. The only people who knew she was here were Meredith and her sister, Ruby, and neither would call except in an emergency.

It would just be Ruby checking in, that was all. And the sudden desire to hear a friendly voice hit her like a giant wave.

She raced to the phone and lifted the receiver. ‘Hello?’

‘Um...hello?’

The voice was deep, unfamiliar. Masculine. She froze.

‘Can I help you?’

She put on her most formal voice. It was a wrong number—it had to be. The only possible alternative, she supposed, was that it was someone calling for Jack. And if someone was calling for Jack then they mustn’t know she was here.

‘I’m calling for Jack.’

The various risks of every response flashed through her brain. If she said Jack was here, she’d be acknowledging she was here with him. Jack was wanting to hide, wasn’t he? But what if the caller was calling about something important?

‘He’s not here right now. May I take a message?’ She hoped she sounded like an efficient secretary, not a secret lover.

‘Lily?’ the caller said.

Her throat seized. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Lily? It is you, isn’t it?’

‘Of course not.’

She tried to make her voice sound different, but it only sounded shaky and nervous. So much for being an actor.

‘Who may I tell him has called?’

‘It’s Bradley—Bradley Jackson.’

Her pulse hammered in her throat.

‘And he has your number, Bradley?’

‘Of course he has it, Lily.’

‘It’s not...’

She shouldn’t lie to Bradley Jackson, of all people. Bradley, even with all his faults, was a loyal friend to Jack. Surely he wouldn’t expose them?

But this was just the beginning. The beginning of what would await her if people found out that she’d spent the past few days stuck in a remote cabin with Jack.

She put the handpiece back into the cradle.

Lily was standing at the door when Jack pushed it open. For an instant his heart leapt. She’d changed her mind. She was sorry. She wanted to give them another chance.

‘Bradley called,’ she said, and his heart instantly felt several pounds heavier.

Daisy bounded past him and greeted Lily like an old friend, but Jack stood still by the door.

He understood on an intellectual level that Lily had reservations about them seeing each other again. Heck, he wasn’t sure it was the most sensible, most cautious thing to do. Especially now. But he also knew that, as awkward as rekindling their relationship might be, not seeing her again would be far worse.

After a long walk along the ridge, he had begrudgingly accepted her point—figuring out what to do about his father was his dilemma, not hers. It wouldn’t be fair to pull her into it. Let alone to drag her along in whatever fall-out eventuated.

That didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

‘What did he say?’

‘He asked that you call him. And, Jack, he guessed it was me.’

Her voice was fast and panicked.

He shrugged off his coat.

‘It’s not such a leap; he knows that Meredith has lent you the place in the past.’

‘But he knows I’m here with you now.’

‘You didn’t think he’d find out?’

‘No! Of course not. I didn’t think anyone would know. Ever.’

‘It’s his house. Meredith may have already told him you’re here.’

‘Jack, what if he tells someone?’

‘He’s not going to tell anyone. He’s one of my oldest friends—he’s kept bigger secrets than this.’

Jack walked over to her, and as he did he finally understood what she’d been trying to tell him.

‘That’s what you’re really worried about, isn’t it?’

‘What?’

‘People finding out. About us.’

‘Of course I’m worried about that. Aren’t you?’

Jack grunted. ‘Funnily enough, it isn’t my biggest worry right now, no.’

If Lily was worried about people finding out about them, then she really didn’t trust him. And if she didn’t trust him they couldn’t ever move forward.

‘This isn’t nothing for me,’ she said. ‘You have protection...the Thorpe name, the Thorpe fortune.’

‘The Thorpe reputation may not turn out to be as strong as you think.’

The world finding out that he had slept with Lily wasn’t his biggest worry. It wasn’t even in the top ten. His biggest worries were so big and all-consuming that every other worry in the world felt petty in comparison.

In no particular order, his three biggest concerns were: his father might be going to jail. His family company might be going down the tubes, taking the livelihoods of all his staff with it. Lily didn’t love him.

Maybe the last one was in fact his number one worry, because on his walk he’d realised something for the first time. He might be able to survive worries One and Two if he wasn’t also burdened with Three. If Lily loved him she would be by his side, and then he would be able to handle anything that followed from everything else.

And now...

But he couldn’t dwell on that. It was strange that Bradley had called. He probably just wanted a whinge about Meredith. Or to check in. And yet...

He dialled Bradley’s number, and as he did so he noticed Lily disappear with her computer off to the other end of the house.

Bradley was quick and to the point. Jack would have expected no less. Yes, of course Jack would leave right away. Yes, Bradley would ask his PA to get Jack on the next commercial flight back east. LAX? No, on second thoughts better make it San Francisco.

He knocked on Lily’s door and she opened it an instant later.

‘I need to leave. Ten minutes ago.’

He turned and walked back to the kitchen.

She rushed after him. ‘Wait—what’s happened?’

‘You can stay. You don’t need to leave.’

‘But, Jack...the roads.’

‘The ploughs have come through. I saw them on my walk with Daisy just now. Once I get to the main road I’ll be fine.’

‘Jack, what’s happened?’ There was a tremor in her voice.

‘Dad’s had a stroke,’ he said, and he pushed past her out through the door to the garage.

‘Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry. How is he?’

‘Conscious, but not speaking.’

Jack opened his car boot. Looked in. Realised he didn’t have his suitcase to put in it.

She crossed her arms and blocked his path. ‘Jack, please. Wait a moment.’

‘I need to leave.’

‘Then, I’m coming with you.’

‘And what if we’re seen together?’

She shook her head. ‘We’ll be in the car, no one will see us. Besides, at this point I’m more worried I’ll never see you again. You’re upset, you shouldn’t be driving alone, especially when the roads are like they are.’

For a second, hope bloomed in his chest. He ignored it.

‘So we’ll both go over the cliff together?’

‘If that’s what it takes.’

He walked past her to go and get his suitcase, but she grabbed his arm and stopped him. Her hand was warm and soft on his arm; she wasn’t gripping him hard, but he didn’t seem to be able to pull away.

‘Why?’

‘Because I care.’

‘You don’t care about my father.’

Let’s hear her deny that.

‘Don’t be like that, Jack. I care about you.’

It would be madness for her to come. He couldn’t put her at risk from her fears about the world’s press. But he also didn’t want to be alone just now. And he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her just yet.

‘I’ll drive you to the airport,’ she said.

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Don’t be stubborn. You’ve had a shock. I’ll drive.’

Ten minutes later Lily was reversing carefully down the drive. All their bags were squeezed in her boot, and Daisy was sitting happily across the back seat.

Once they were safely on the cleared main road, she said, ‘There may be no need to panic. Many strokes are very mild, and I’m sure he has the best possible care.’

‘Bradley called all the way down here to tell me, and he said I have to get back before there’s an announcement to the stock exchange. Does that sound serious enough for you?’

She flinched. ‘Jack, I didn’t mean to imply it isn’t serious. I was only trying to make you feel better.’

‘Well, you don’t need to.’

He didn’t want to be unkind, but every time he felt her sympathy he wondered if he might cry. And he wasn’t about to do that. Especially not after she’d told him she didn’t want to see him again.

Everything was a mess.

How long did his father have?

What had to happen now?

What if the Western State stuff didn’t come out until after he was dead? Then Jack would probably never be able to clear his name.

But what if his father had to face a criminal prosecution on his deathbed?

Each scenario was worse than the one before.

‘I’m very sorry,’ said Lily. ‘And I’m sorry if you thought my comment was insensitive—’

‘It was insensitive, whether I thought so or not.’

Maybe his remarks were insensitive too, but if anyone in this car had a right to be upset right now it was him. He’d just been rejected by the woman he loved and barely an hour later had been told his father had suffered a stroke serious enough to make him lose his ability to speak. If that wasn’t an excuse for a few sharp comments then he wasn’t sure what was.

The woman he loved?

He looked across at her, but she was focusing intently on the road. Of course he loved Lily—he’d never stopped. He’d tried so hard to, but now it was impossible. His feelings for Lily had always been there, kept hidden but secure in a special compartment of his heart.

He loved her. But there was no joy in the realisation, only pain. Because she didn’t love him back.

The truth was he had no idea how serious his father’s stroke was. There hadn’t been time for any discussion. All Bradley had said was that the hospital had urgently been trying to locate Jack.

‘The board’s going to make an announcement later today and you need to get back yesterday.’

That was what Bradley had added, just before Jack had hung up.

‘I understand,’ Lily said softly.

‘Do you?’ he snapped.

There was no way anyone in the world could understand all the thoughts and emotions that were going through Jack’s mind right now. For all Jack knew his father might not even be alive by the time he got there...

The skin on Jack’s chest started to burn. He glanced over at Lily and saw her face was etched with concern. He looked the other way. He pushed his broken heart back into the compartment he’d been keeping it in for the last decade and firmly closed the lid.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE SPECTACULAR SCENERY was a surreal backdrop to the uncomfortable silence in the small car as Lily drove along narrow, winding roads, gradually getting back to civilisation and the rest of the world.

When they were two miles out of Oakdale she said, ‘We should stop for a quick break.’

She half expected him to argue, but he didn’t speak. She drove up to a diner and pulled in.

‘Coffee? Something to eat?’ she asked, but he shook his head.

He was out of the car and on the phone before she could unbuckle her seatbelt.

Lily went into the diner, used the bathroom, then ordered two coffees to go. As an afterthought she grabbed some doughnuts as well. She didn’t feel like eating, and doubted Jack did either, but they had both skipped lunch and she had no idea where her next meal was coming from.

As she waited for the coffee she looked out through the diner window. Jack had his phone to his ear and was pacing by the car. Daisy sat at his feet and looked up at him.

Lily watched as Jack repeatedly ran his hand through his thick hair. Her chest tightened. She wanted to go to him. To wrap her arms around him and hold him tight. To absorb some of his pain.

He’s not your responsibility...you can’t fix this.

Had it only been a few hours ago that she’d woken up entangled in his arms, happy, content, complete? Was it only this morning she’d looked at him across the kitchen and willed the moment not to end? Had she really felt those things, or had she just been dreaming? Their conversation, the phone call, the drive down here—it was all nightmarish. And this, here and now, waiting at the counter in a dodgy diner in Oakdale was real. What had happened between them at the cabin had been the dream.

No amount of passion, no matter how addictive, could mend this. No amount of attraction, no matter how strong, could bind them back together.

She carried the coffee and doughnuts back to the car and climbed in. Jack continued his conversation a few minutes longer, then climbed back into the passenger seat.

‘Coffee?’

‘Thanks,’ he muttered as she started the car.

‘There are some doughnuts too,’ she added, but didn’t receive a reply.

They were still a couple of hours away from San Francisco International, but she knew it would be the last few hours she ever spend with him. She didn’t want to waste them arguing, and yet she didn’t want him getting on a plane feeling like this. His pain spread, somehow, to her.

For better or for worse. In sickness and in health...

She had no right to know what was going on—not since she’d told him they couldn’t see each other again. But she needed to at least ask.

‘How is he?’

‘The board are going to make an announcement publicly this evening, just after the markets close.’

‘Before you get back?’

To make an announcement so soon, even before Jack was back, must mean John Thorpe’s condition was serious. Or there was another explanation, but Lily didn’t dare give voice to it.

Jack nodded. ‘They can’t really keep it a secret.’

There were all sorts of explanations for that as well, though Lily didn’t want to speculate.

‘Jack, I’m so sorry. What are you going to do?’

‘He’s in hospital. I’m hardly going to turn him in to the police now, am I?’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

She placed her hand tentatively on his knee. When he didn’t shake her away she squeezed.

Lily drove into a multi-storey car park and chose a spot in a quiet, out-of-the-way corner.

‘Since privacy matters so much to you, you may want to wait until I’ve left before driving away,’ Jack said.

‘Jack, please just hear me out.’

‘You said you didn’t want to see me again once we left the cabin.’

‘I didn’t say that. I said we couldn’t see each other again.’

‘It’s the same thing.’

It wasn’t, and she hoped that one day he’d realise why and agree that this was for the best.

‘Jack, you’re about to get on a plane and walk into one of the most stressful periods of your life. Possibly the biggest scandal. Do you really think my presence is going to help? At the very least your father would flip if he thought you were seeing me again.’

Jack’s expression softened, although he didn’t look at her.

‘Do you want to layer scandal on scandal?’

‘Do I want?’ He laughed scornfully. ‘That’s a good one.’

He was acting like a kid, though she’d forgive him that. He’d just had some awful news, on top of what he was already dealing with. Still, it hurt to have it directed at her.

And after that what else was there for him to say? Thanks for driving me? Thanks for nothing?

Maybe one day she would feel grateful for the last few days, for that precious time with Jack, for the circumstances that got her book pretty much finished.

Maybe one day she’d look back on this week with some positivity.

But not now. Now there was only one more thing to say.

‘Goodbye, Jack.’

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE NEWS OF his father’s stroke had broken by the time he arrived in New York. Everyone was extremely shocked, and desperate to tell Jack how sorry they were, but Jack was almost numb, and he walked through the airport in a daze.

If only Lily had stayed by his side.

But that, as she had made very clear, was impossible. And who could blame her?

Every eye in the place was on him, even with a special escort through the back corridors of the airport. He couldn’t have dragged Lily into the storm that was currently swirling around him.

Bradley was waiting for him.

‘Lily Watson, hey?’

‘That’s what you open with? How’s Dad?’

The smirk fell away from Bradley’s face and they started to walk towards Bradley’s waiting car.

‘Not great, but he’s breathing on his own and conscious.’

‘What does that mean? How is he really?’

Bradly shook his head. ‘I can’t tell you anything else. You’ll have to speak to the doctors. Why didn’t you tell me he had dementia?’

Jack stopped walking, feeling the earth rock under her feet. ‘He has what?’

‘Dementia. That’s what one of the doctors said. He wouldn’t tell me much, but I wondered what you knew.’

What Jack knew? Nothing. It was all news to him. And yet at the same time he wanted to kick himself. He’d noticed his father getting frailer physically. He was in his seventies after all. But he hadn’t dreamed that his father’s cognitive abilities were anything less than they had ever been.

Now it all made sense. His father’s actions over Western State Media, when Jack would have sworn he’d never do anything like that.

Jack didn’t know much about dementia, but he did know it was more complex than just memory loss. It could cause personality changes as well. And sufferers sometimes tried to hide or deny what was happening. They were also at increased risk of other health issues. Like heart disease and stroke.

‘Damn.’

‘I know,’ said Bradley. ‘I’m so sorry. I hope it goes without saying that I’m here for you.’

Jack closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Where to even start?

When he opened his eyes he noticed for the first time that it was dark already on the East Coast. A wave of exhaustion washed over him.

‘What do you need?’ Bradley asked. ‘A stiff drink? Something to eat?’

‘I need to get to the hospital, but I also need to speak to our lawyers as soon as possible.’

Bradley’s face creased.

‘I’ll explain at some stage, I promise.’

‘Whatever you need.’

The two men began to walk again.

‘So, Lily Watson...’ Bradley said again.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THERE HAD BEEN no need for Lily to park in such a far-flung corner of the San Francisco Airport multi-storey car park to say goodbye to Jack. There had been no need for Lily to keep what had happened between them a secret from everyone, including her sister.

It was the stop at the Oakdale diner she should have worried about.

After dropping Jack at the airport Lily had driven straight back to Monterey. She’d stayed inside, finishing her book for the deadline, and only ventured out of the house properly for the first time about a week later.

She’d gone out one morning to the supermarket and seen the photos.

Jack-an’-Lil in Secret Mountain Tryst! the headline screamed.

Lily’s heart had stopped beating for several moments before her veins had flooded with adrenaline and fear. She’d climbed straight back into her car and driven home without her groceries.

At home, she’d done something she hadn’t done in years—she’d searched online for her name and Jack’s together.

Sure enough, there were the photos on a popular gossip website. A photo of Lily standing inside the diner, waiting for her coffee. She was looking out of the window with a wistful look on her face. The caption read: Lily’s concern for Jack.

Lily’s skin turned hot. She had been worried. She remembered that moment perfectly—the way she’d been thinking about Jack and what news he might be hearing on the phone at that moment. The way she’d worried about whether he would confide in her or not. The way her heart had been breaking, both for him and for her.

Following her recent break-up with long-time partner David Parks, Lily Watson escaped into the wilderness with ex-husband and current flame Jack Thorpe. News of John Thorpe’s serious illness sent the couple back to New York to be with him.

It can only be a matter of time before the pair announce their plans to remarry, say sources close to the couple...

There was a small shot of her climbing into the car, and a larger one of Jack on the phone, raking his hand through his hair and looking gorgeously tormented.

She touched her fingers to the screen, then quickly pulled them away as if she’d been burnt.

It was ten a.m. in California, one p.m. in New York. Would he have seen the photos? Someone surely would have told him about them by now.

Lily sat at her computer and tried to write, but it was useless. She was waiting for the phone to start ringing, for her emails to start going crazy. With every moment that passed she felt sicker.

Jack would call, wouldn’t he? He’d have to. They’d need a plan.

The idea of talking to him terrified and excited her all at once. But the phone didn’t ring. She had to shut down her computer, because instead of working she was scanning every website she could think of, but there was nothing else. Was she the only person in the world who had seen the photos? Why wasn’t anyone doing anything?

When nervous energy threatened to rip her apart she went for a walk and left her phone behind. For a few precious hours she walked along the beach and the cliff-edge, not jumping at each noise expecting it to be a phone call.

What was Jack going to say? What would she say? Why, when she knew that she’d done the right thing back at Yosemite, was it still ripping her insides apart? Why was she still waking up in the night and reaching for him, only to feel bereft when her limbs found only empty space beside her?

I could handle it if only he was with me. If only he’d call and let me know we’re in this together.

But he didn’t and they weren’t. She had chosen her life and sent him back to his.

Back at her house, she tapped her phone cautiously.

Nothing.

No missed calls. No messages. Not even any emails.

She dialled her sister.

‘Hey—’ Lily began.

‘It’s Aunt Lily!’ Ruby cried.

Lily heard Georgia gurgling in the background and her heart clenched.

‘How’s it going?’ asked her sister.

‘Did you see the photos?’ Lily asked, her heart in her throat.

‘What photos?’ Ruby wasn’t talking directly into the phone and Lily heard her moving around.

‘The photos.’ Lily didn’t think it needed more explanation.

‘Sorry, sweetheart, I’m in a baby haze. I’m getting no more than two hours’ sleep at a stretch.’

‘There were photos today...’

‘What sort of photos?’

‘Of Jack and me,’ Lily whispered.

‘Who? Sorry—I missed that.’

‘Jack and me!’ Lily shouted.

‘Jack Thorpe?’

‘Of course Jack Thorpe. Who else?’

‘So, what are you doing in the photos? Are you topless? Naked? Pregnant? Abducted by aliens?’

‘No, nothing like that. He’s standing by my car. I’m inside a diner.’

‘So?’

‘So, don’t you see? Everyone will think it’s on between us again.’

‘Hang on.’

Lily heard shuffling, Georgia screeching, the phone being dropped.

After what felt like an hour Ruby picked up the phone again. ‘I see them, but I don’t understand the problem. It’s a couple of random photos of someone who looks like you and a random photo of someone who could be Jack. I suppose... If you squint. They’re obviously not real.’

‘I guess so...’

‘You guess so? Wait, Lily.’ Ruby’s voice was loaded with warning. ‘They aren’t genuine, are they?’

Lily couldn’t answer. This was why no one had called. Everyone assumed the photos were fake. No one believed for even a moment that she and Jack had been together at a roadside diner halfway to the middle of nowhere.

‘Why don’t you come and stay for a few days?’ Ruby said.

Later that evening, over a bottle of wine, Lily told her sister everything. Well almost everything. She left out the part about wishing she could stay in Yosemite for ever with Jack, and she certainly left out the part where Jack had said he wanted to see her again.

She didn’t get the reaction she’d expected. Ruby laughed.

‘Six years ago every second person asked me when the baby was due after an obviously doctored photo was published of you with one hand in Jack’s and another on a fake pregnant belly. Now, even though they’re real photos, no one believes it. That’s fantastic!’

Ruby laughed again. Loudly and long.

‘I’m glad you find my misfortune amusing.’

‘It’s not misfortune—it’s good fortune. You’ve had a few days of string-free sex with your ex and also managed to escape the attention of the paps. All that and your book is nearly done. Seems like a win-win to me.’

The next day Lily noticed, during her forensic and obsessive searching online that Meredith had released a one-line statement denying the photo was Lily. Someone from Thorpe Media had done the same for Jack.

Meredith hadn’t even come to her for a statement.

Of course not. As Ruby said, no one believes the photos are real.

If she hadn’t been so tense she might have laughed, just like Ruby. It was an enormous relief.

‘You seem flat. Disappointed,’ Ruby said to her.

‘I often get this way when I finish a book.’

‘Rubbish. You’re usually elated.’

Lily held Georgia in her arms and stroked the soft hair on her head as she rocked her hips to lull the baby to sleep. ‘I guess it’s everything. The book. Yosemite. And I have just broken up with David.’

‘How exactly did you leave things with Jack?’ Ruby probed.

Badly? Awkwardly? Excruciatingly?

‘It was rushed. He had to get back for his dad.’

‘Did you agree to see each other again?’

Lily looked away and shook her head.

‘Do you want to see him again?’

Lily didn’t answer.

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’

‘No, it’s not a yes.’

‘But he wants to see you?’

Lily didn’t reply.

‘So he wants to see you. Of course he does—he has good taste. We’ve always known that.’ Ruby grinned.

‘It doesn’t matter what he wants.’

‘It does, to a point. But you need to worry about what you want.’

Lily shrugged. ‘I don’t think that matters much either.’

‘What? Sweetheart, no. Of course what you want matters. At this point it’s all that should matter.’

‘I can’t go through it again.’ Lily could barely get the words out.

Ruby took her hand. ‘You’re older this time. And John Thorpe probably won’t have the influence he had before—especially after his stroke.’

What Ruby said made sense. But even though she was older, was she truly stronger? Lily didn’t feel stronger. She felt as vulnerable as ever. She was in her thirties and she couldn’t play around any more; her next relationship had to be The One.

Besides, Jack didn’t seem to want kids as badly as she did, so why was she even still thinking of him at all?

‘It’s not just that. He’s dealing with his dad. The last thing he needs now is—’

‘Maybe what he needs is you.’

It was far more complicated than Ruby knew, but Lily couldn’t tell her about the whole mess. Lily had been searching obsessively for news of John Thorpe and Thorpe Media, and even Western State Media, and reading everything she found.

If Jack did expose his father, what then?

Would she finally fully forgive him? Would it make it right?

It was a crisp and dry December day when Lily and Meredith met at Soleil for lunch.

‘They love the latest book,’ said Meredith. ‘They’re talking film options.’

‘Film options? Are you kidding?’

Lily’s throat constricted. None of her novels had ever been adapted for the screen, despite many of them being bestsellers. She’d put that down to the fact that ‘Lily Watson’ was still on most producers’ blacklists.

‘It’s about time, don’t you think?’ added Meredith.

Lily’s elation was muted. She was glad her publishers loved the book. She did too. But her memories of finishing it would always be mixed. Getting a movie deal would be bittersweet.

‘Have you spoken to Bradley?’ Lily asked.

‘Only through the lawyers.’

Lily had known this was probably the case, but was disappointed nonetheless. Meredith and Bradley were her only real link to the Thorpe enclave.

‘Have you spoken to Jack?’

Meredith’s question surprised her, but she said, ‘No, why would I?’

‘I know he was at the cabin with you.’

‘Oh.’ Lily’s heart paused. ‘Who else knows?’

‘Just Bradley. As far as I know. So?’

‘So what?’

‘So what happened?’

‘So there was a mix-up, wasn’t there? You lent me the cabin the same week Bradley lent it to Jack.’

Meredith smirked. ‘I’m so sorry. It was completely unintentional, I swear. So what happened? Who left?’

‘We... Well, we both ended up staying.’

‘Together?’

‘There was snow, we were stuck without chains, so we both stayed.’

‘Even when the snow melted?’ Meredith’s lips twitched.

‘You know something, don’t you?’ said Lily. ‘There’s something you’re just itching to tell me.’

‘Not exactly. I have a theory, though. Can I try it out on you?’

Lily poured them both another glass of wine. ‘Sure. And make it good.’

‘So, you arrive at the cabin and you’re both surprised the other is there, but you’re stuck and neither can leave. However, you haven’t seen each other in years, and have all sorts of unresolved feelings for each other. It’s probably not pleasant to begin with, but you’re forced to speak to one another and have conversations you should have had years ago. Am I warm?’

‘You’re in the ballpark.’

‘I don’t know what happened next—Jack’s obviously in a world of pain with his father, and he’s been busy with the business and giving half the family money away.’

‘It’s not quite half their money.’

‘He’s given billions away—not just to the people his father has been dealing with recently. But to charities too. All sorts of people. Did you know about that?’

Lily nodded. At first she’d tried to avoid all the news about John Thorpe’s declining health, the allegations against him and the entire restructuring of Thorpe Media that Jack had implemented. But not knowing had been somehow worse, so she had been following the case as closely as Meredith. She had learnt that even though he was recovering from his stroke, John Thorpe had also been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.

‘So it seems that Jack has finally taken over the business,’ Meredith said.

‘But he had to.’

‘Yes and no. Despite his health issues John dug in pretty hard, and it took a lot of work on Jack’s part to get his father to stand aside. Did you know that?’

Lily shook her head. The backroom goings-on at Thorpe Media were not public knowledge, though Meredith obviously still had an inside source.

All Lily knew was that John Thorpe had retired permanently and was ‘assisting the FBI with their enquiries’, although under the circumstances he’d never be charged. Luc Harmon was apparently being equally helpful. Jack was now firmly in charge of Thorpe Media, and had marked the new regime by giving a large portion of their holdings away—including returning some newspapers and television stations to their previous owners. Thorpe Media had also recently made significant donations to the various communities involved.

The share price had suffered at first, but was steadily growing again under Jack’s tighter, more focused leadership.

Lily had watched it all unfold with mixed feelings, glad that John Thorpe was no longer controlling such a powerful company, but still sad about everything he’d done to her in the past. She was glad for Jack too, but sometimes the realisation of what they’d both lost swept over her and almost felled her. They might have lived a wonderful and happy life together if John Thorpe hadn’t been so broken. If he’d been more open and honest with everyone.

‘I’m celebrating something else,’ Meredith said. now ‘Bradley and I reached a settlement yesterday.’

Lily lifted her glass and tapped it gently against Meredith’s. ‘That’s great. Of course none of it’s great...but at least it’s not hanging over you any longer.’

Meredith smiled, but Lily noticed her eyes were glistening.

‘Who’s getting the cabin?’ Lily asked, not knowing if she hoped it was Meredith, so she could continue to visit it, or Bradley so that it would be closed to her for ever.

‘Neither of us. It’s been sold.’

‘Sold? Already?’

‘Yep, months ago. Why? Did you want to buy it?’ Meredith grinned.

‘Maybe...yes. No. I don’t... It doesn’t matter anyway.’

It was just as well the cabin was sold. She couldn’t go back there—not now...not after everything that had happened.

‘So what are you going to do about you-know-who?’ Meredith asked quietly.

Lily gave a long sigh. She had thought about reaching out to Jack, but each time something different had held her back. They hadn’t parted on good terms—they had both agreed that they didn’t have a future together—so why torture one another? It would be best to keep the break clean.

‘Nothing.’

‘Really?’ Meredith asked.

‘You’re not seriously suggesting I call him? You of all people. You had to pick me up after what happened last time and listen to my endless ranting and raving. I thought you’d be telling me to run a mile from him.’

Now it was Meredith’s turn to shrug. ‘You were both young and under a huge amount of pressure. Honestly? I’ve sometimes blamed myself.’

‘What?’ This was crazy talk.

‘I should have stood up to John Thorpe. Called him out. Defended you more. You were just a baby dropped in a shark tank.’

‘Meredith, it was not your fault.’

‘But was it really Jack’s? I mean, yes, to some extent, but he was young too. In awe of his father...forging his way in the world.’

‘Are you seriously suggesting I get back together with him?’

Meredith gave a sad smile. ‘I’m only saying that you shouldn’t hang on to tightly to the past. Because the past tends to fade to dust and one day you might find you’re holding on to nothing.’

Meredith was probably just feeling sentimental now her divorce from Bradley was being finalised, Lily thought. It was possible she wasn’t the best person to be taking advice from right now.

I want to move forward.

As much as she wanted to see Jack again, she knew that it would only lead to more pain. More pain than she would not be able to withstand.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

LILY STEPPED OUT of Soleil into the crisp December air. Although this was LA, not Monterey, and certainly not New York, so ‘crisp’ was more like ‘pleasantly mild’ to most people.

She handed her valet parking ticket to the man at the lectern and pulled her blue blazer around her. The valet drove her car around the corner. She sighed. Even though they’d only shared one ride in it, every time she saw it she thought of Jack. For weeks, every time she’d climbed into it, she’d imagined she could smell Jack, and mostly Daisy. The smell had faded, but the memories had not.

The car stopped next to her, but the valet did not get out. She knocked lightly on the window and it slid down.

Her heart slammed into her throat. Despite the valet’s hat obscuring the top of his head, those were the blue eyes she saw in her dreams. He nodded to the passenger side and Lily glanced around. No one was looking, or else they were in on the game and pretending not to be.

Did Meredith know? Probably. Either way, this was Beverly Hills and Jack Thorpe was sitting in her car. The safest option was simply to get in. And get out of there as quickly as possible.

Around the corner Jack flipped the cap off and threw it into the back seat. If the car had smelt faintly of Jack before, the effect now was...devastating. Discombobulating. Delicious...

‘You knew I was there today?’

‘Meredith might have mentioned it.’

‘I planned it, you know... That day at Soleil.’

She was overwhelmed to see him. Surprised, certainly. Confused, definitely. But she wasn’t sure yet if she was happy.

‘Why are you here? You could have called me,’ she said.

She’d thought about contacting Jack almost every day in the three months since they’d left the cabin but, terrified he wouldn’t want to speak to her, had managed to talk herself out of it every time.

It’s best left in the past. For all the reasons you told him. And then some.

But the ache hadn’t gone away. Nor had the desire.

‘I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me,’ he said.

Lily’s heart hammered away in her chest like a ticking bomb. She didn’t know how to calm it.

‘How are you, anyway?’ she asked.

‘I’m okay. How are you?’

‘I’m fine...well. Jack, I’m sorry. I wanted to call you...to see how you’re doing. It was only...’

There was no excuse except for fear. And self-preservation.

‘No, I’m sorry. I should have called you. I shouldn’t have left things as they were. But I was hurt.’

‘That was understandable. How is your father?’

Jack grimaced. ‘He’s doing okay. Physically, anyway. Mentally...he’s been better.’

Jack pulled up at a red light and looked over to her.

‘He’d been noticing a decline in his cognitive function for a while, but didn’t tell anyone. About six months before the stroke his doctor made him have some tests. It’s likely he’s been suffering from the early stages of Alzheimer’s for the past few years.’

‘Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry.’

‘It explains the Western State Media deal—but it doesn’t excuse it. I should have noticed. If I’d been paying better attention to Dad it would never have happened.’

Lily reached over and squeezed his arm. She wanted to wrap herself around him, to comfort and console him.

‘No, no...these things are insidious. And I’m sure he was doing everything he could to hide it.’

‘Yeah—like trying to prove he could still put significant deals together.’

They sat in silence for a few moments. It was easy to hate John Thorpe; it was harder to accept that he was simply a person who had made some bad decisions through ill health.

There was a loud beep behind them. She looked up and noticed the lights had turned green.

‘It must have been a difficult few months,’ she said. ‘With your father and sorting out the business and everything.’

Jack nodded. ‘But that hasn’t been the hardest thing.’

‘It hasn’t?’

He pulled over abruptly outside a shopping mall. She had no idea where they were. He turned off the engine and faced her.

‘Lily, do you think there’s any chance you could forgive me? I’m dying here. I love you with every ounce of my being. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that back at Yosemite. I wanted to tell you everything—promise you everything. A life together...children. Everything you want. I love you so much, and I’m so sorry, and I would do anything to make it right.’

She touched his arm. ‘I love you too,’ she blurted, and the declaration took them both by surprise. ‘I’ve never stopped loving you. Granted, sometimes I loathed you a lot too. But I never, never stopped loving you. I thought you must hate me. I thought...’

Jack took her face in his hands. ‘My love is not delicate. It has withstood more than a few frank words from you.’

‘It didn’t withstand seeing me with Drake,’ she pointed out.

‘I was seriously hurt, Lily. I was more hurt than I could even articulate. And I was an idiot. I was hurt, but also confused. I didn’t know who to trust—you or my father—and... Well, I’ve told you before. I should have come to LA sooner. I should have believed you immediately and stood up to my father, called him out on his behaviour. But I’m older now. And I know that’s no guarantee I’ll get things right in future, but I promise you I will try as hard as I can.’

‘I was a fool too. I shouldn’t have let Drake kiss me.’

‘That’s behind us now. I shouldn’t have snapped at you back at Yosemite, but everything was so up in the air. I know you don’t trust the Thorpes to look after you, that you don’t trust us not to betray you again. I know that. But I want you to know that I will never hurt you again and I’ll stand up to anyone who tries to. Do you think you could even just think about giving me a second chance?’

It was a risk. But Jack had changed and so had she. She had far more to lose by not letting him back into her life.

She smiled. Jack leant across and brushed his lips over hers. She didn’t feel greedy, or rushed. She knew they had all the time in the world. The rest of their lives. She leant in, deepened the kiss.

It was only when she felt herself falling irrevocably into it that she pulled back. ‘Where are you driving to?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t think that far ahead. I only wanted to see you. Tell you how sorry I am and beg you to love me again.’

She giggled. ‘Where even are we?’

‘I have no idea. All I care about is being with you. I don’t want to go back, only forward. And only with you.’

He leant over the centre console and took her into his arms.

It wasn’t like their first kiss, or even their last. They had both changed and grown.

It was a kiss that promised her the future.

EPILOGUE

‘CAN I TAKE the blindfold off?’

‘Impatient, much?’ he replied.

‘It’s been three hours, Jack, and it’s itching.’

‘Not much further. You trust me, don’t you?’

Of course she trusted him. More than anyone. But it had been a long drive and her bladder was bursting. It had been doing that a lot these days. Just as she’d been told to expect. When you were expecting.

She was impatient. Jack, though, was not. But then he wasn’t three months pregnant.

She couldn’t quite remember if he’d been this patient when he was younger, but now he was calm, reassuring. Lily knew he’d wait for ever for her. Not that he had to—they had got married yesterday.

‘Of course I trust you. But is there a bathroom where we’re going?’

He laughed. ‘Yes, I’m sure you’ll be quite comfortable. Besides, the honeymoon is meant to be the groom’s surprise.’

Lily wasn’t exactly sure about that, but it was too late to argue now.

They had left her house in Monterey that morning, after a quiet and low-key day yesterday. A million miles from their first, gala-style wedding, their second had been small, intimate, and so much less stressful. Which might have had something to do with the fact that they’d got married again before anyone had even got wind of the fact they were dating.

It had been a small ceremony, with only her mother, her sister, her brother-in-law, Georgia and Meredith for her, and Bradley for Jack. His father had even flown in from New York, assisted by his nurse. He’d sat quietly through the ceremony and been overly polite to Lily. She wasn’t sure that had been out of manners or remorse, but she’d decided not to let it worry her.

John Thorpe couldn’t hurt her any more.

The President returned Jack’s calls now—not John’s.

The car slowed and Jack turned off the engine.

‘Now?’ she begged.

‘Yes, now.’

Lily pushed the blindfold off her face and laughed.

‘You guessed?’ he said.

They were parked in the driveway of Meredith and Bradley’s cabin. The high sky was bright blue and the view of the valley that had been largely obscured by snow on their last visit was now wide and open, and the rocks were glowing in the sunlight.

‘I’ve been thinking of all the places we might be driving within three hours of Monterey, and I admit Yosemite was on my shortlist. But not here... Jack, I don’t understand. It was sold ages ago.’

‘Yes, to me.’

‘When?’

‘The day we left.’

Lily rubbed her temple. He would have had to have called Bradley pretty much as soon as he’d arrived back in New York.

‘But...’ She couldn’t find the words.

‘As soon as I left you that day I knew I’d made a mistake. And not just about that day—about everything. I always planned to give it to you, but I was pretty sure you wouldn’t accept it.’

She nodded.

‘But now it’s my wedding present to you. I know you’ve always loved it. It’s been your special place for over ten years...your refuge.’

‘Yes, but...’

‘Don’t get all principled on me now. You know I can afford it. Thorpe Media might have taken a bit of a hit in the past few months, but they aren’t kicking me off the rich list any time soon.’

He ran his hand through his thick hair. Attempted to look modest. But his eyes still sparkled.

Before she could think better of it, Lily reached out and grabbed his arm. ‘Jack, no. We’ve talked about this. I’m sorry, and I know you are too. You don’t have to keep on making gestures like this. The only thing I want from you is...you.’

He smiled and her insides somersaulted.

‘You and a bathroom,’ she added.

‘You romantic, you.’

After they had unlocked the door Lily freshened up and Jack carried in their bags. Then he made them both a warm drink.

It was early March, but the sky was blue and the winter snow had all melted. Although it was warmer than it had been in September, Jack lit a fire while Lily read on the couch.

When it was lit, Jack joined her, and Daisy sat at Lily’s feet with her nose resting on Lily’s foot.

‘Why does she like you best?’ Jack asked a little grumpily.

Lily laughed. ‘She knows who’s boss, I guess.’

‘Hmm...’ Jack said. ‘She might be right.’

‘You don’t really mind, do you?’

‘Of course not. I told her to look after you.’

‘Right...’

‘I said, “Daisy, you have to look after Lily and the baby.” So she knows.’

‘But we agreed not to tell anyone until twelve weeks!’ Lily feigned outrage.

‘I don’t care if Daisy never comes to me again as long as all three of you are with me.’

All three of them. They were a family. It was a strange and wonderful thought.

‘What’ll we do now?’ Jack brushed a lock of her hair to one side and kissed her neck.

She sighed.

‘Monopoly?’ he suggested as his lips trailed their way up her neck to her jawbone.

‘You’re kidding, right? How about Scrabble?’ Lily said.

Jack’s lips found hers, firm and loving, and she yielded to his kiss. The sensation of his tongue against hers, his hand cupped her chin, made her stir inside.

He drew back just far enough to ask, ‘Poker?’

‘Now, there’s an idea...’

If Lily wrote a hundred books she would never imagine a better man than Jack.

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Tempted by Her Fake Fiancé
by Kate Hardy

CHAPTER ONE

‘ELLE, YOU’RE GOOD with shoestring budgets,’ Rav said. ‘I’ve got a project I want you to handle.’

Even though Elle had a ridiculous workload at the moment—because she’d been pushing herself harder ever since the head of the agency had announced a restructure that would mean a new senior account manager, a job she really wanted—she smiled at her boss. ‘Sure. Do we have a brief and a pitch meeting scheduled?’

‘Not quite,’ Rav said. ‘The client’s already seen your work and liked it. He happened to be in London this morning, so he wanted to meet you and talk over the brief for the marketing campaign himself.’

‘That’s fine.’ If she worked through lunch—again—she’d be able to juggle her deadlines; Elle was pretty sure she could carve out enough time to get herself up to speed on the client’s current marketing and his competitors before the meeting. ‘What time’s he coming in?’

Rav coughed. ‘He’s waiting in the meeting room, right now.’

Oh. So she wasn’t even going to have time to check out the client’s website, let alone come up with any ideas. ‘Just as well I can think on my feet,’ she said dryly.

‘It’s a skill we’re looking for in the new senior account manager,’ Rav said.

Her heart skipped a beat. Was her boss hinting...?

‘Hugo’s delighted with what you’ve been doing lately,’ Rav said. Hugo, the head of the agency, was notoriously difficult to please. He could spot the most minor fault at a thousand paces, and his door-slamming abilities were legendary. ‘We were talking about the restructure yesterday, and whether we should recruit internally or externally. We’re both of the same mind. Get this campaign going viral, Elle,’ Rav added, ‘and the senior account manager job’s yours.’

That wasn’t a hint: it was explicit. All the hours she’d put in were finally going to pay off, provided she got the campaign to go viral; and Elle intended to pull out all the stops to make absolutely sure it did. ‘Thank you, Rav,’ she said quietly.

‘I’ll take you in to meet the client,’ Rav said.

But no introductions were necessary.

The second Elle walked into the room, she recognised the man sitting at the table. Charlie Webb’s stunning blue eyes were unmistakable: the colour, she thought, of the bluebells in the wood at the edge of her family farm. Despite the fact that he was wearing a business suit, he looked more like the presenter of a TV nature programme, with his dark hair brushed back from his forehead. The tan he’d got from working outside really suited him, and she’d just bet that the expensive material of his suit hid some serious muscles.

She damped down the little frisson of attraction that bubbled through her. Charlie Webb was completely off limits. Apart from the fact that he was her dad’s business partner, when they’d last met she’d sobbed her heart out on Charlie’s shoulder. Prom night, ten years ago, had possibly been the worst episode in her time at high school.

Not that it was relevant now. She’d moved on from the unhappy, bullied teenager she’d been back then, reinventing herself as hotshot marketer Elle Newton. She fitted in with her colleagues, the way she’d never been able to fit in at school, and she knew she was good at what she did.

‘Good morning, Charlie,’ she said brightly.

‘Hello, Ellie,’ he said.

Of course he’d use her old name. Her parents did, too, though she didn’t quite have the heart to correct them: because that would lead to too many questions she didn’t want to answer. Instead, she gave him a polite smile. ‘Actually, nowadays I go by Elle.’

‘You two know each other?’ Rav asked, looking surprised.

For a moment, adrenaline pumped through Elle’s veins. How much was Charlie going to divulge? The last thing she wanted was her life in London colliding with her old, hated life in Norfolk.

‘Yes. Ellie—Elle,’ Charlie corrected himself, ‘was in the same year at school as my little sister.’

Elle had to stop herself from physically sagging with relief, but inwardly she still felt like a half-set jelly. This was too close for comfort. She didn’t want her boss to see the vulnerable girl she’d once been; she needed him to keep seeing her as she was now. Confident and capable. The woman who’d make a great senior account manager.

Rav looked delighted. ‘As I don’t need to introduce you, I’ll leave you to it.’

Elle waited until Rav had closed the door behind him. ‘Rav said you wanted us to work on a marketing campaign for you, because you’ve seen my work and liked it.’ But why on earth would Bluebell Farm need a London marketing agency’s help? Had Charlie got another job and left her parents in the lurch? She took a breath. Jumping to conclusions would be the quickest way to lose this brief—and her promotion. ‘I assume,’ she said, careful to sound neutral rather than judgmental, ‘that you’re leaving the farm and you’re here for something to do with a new venture?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m here for Bluebell Farm.’

She sat down, frowning. ‘Sorry, Charlie, but I don’t quite understand.’

‘I’ve managed the farm for the last two years,’ Charlie said.

‘I know.’ And she still felt guilty about it. The job she knew her dad had always wanted her to do: take over Bluebell Farm and manage it until she was ready to hand it over to the next generation. A job she couldn’t bear even to think about, much less actually do. She knew her dad had reached the age when the super-early mornings were getting a bit too much for him: the endless grind of milking twice a day, making sure there was clean water in the troughs, feeding the cows, checking the fences, keeping a check on the herd’s health, mucking out in winter when the cows were sleeping in the barn overnight, worrying about the weather and how it would affect the grain crops...

She also knew that two years ago she should’ve offered to give up her life in London and go home: but she simply couldn’t force the words out of her mouth. As a child, she’d loved the farm; as a teen, she’d grown to hate it. Her association with the farm had made her life at high school utterly miserable. The popular crowd had called her ‘Smelly Ellie’ from her first day at high school, claiming that she smelled of cows—even though she knew she didn’t, because she’d always showered after milking and before she went to school, and she also used copious amounts of body spray to mask any lingering bovine residue. The bullies had gleefully homed in on her insecurity; it was made worse by the fact that ‘new’ in the local accent was pronounced ‘noo’, and it was an easy step from there to ‘moo’. Smelly Ellie Moo-ton. Hurgh, hurgh, hurgh. They’d been so pleased by their wit. Got a face on her like sour milk, geddit?

Even the ones who weren’t part of the popular set had joined in, grateful that they weren’t the ones on the receiving end of the constant teasing and sniping. It hadn’t helped that Elle had been plump as a teenager, despite the physical work she did on the farm; if they weren’t calling her Moo-ton it was Heifer.

She’d vowed not to set foot in the place any more often than she had to, once she’d escaped to London. At eighteen, she’d reinvented herself as Elle Newton, worked hard at university, made her mark with internships during the university holidays, and ended up with a glittering career in a high-profile industry. She loved London, she loved her job, and she loved her life here. And she’d been really relieved two years ago when her dad had suggested hiring Charlie—who’d just finished his MSc, after doing a project on the farm—as his new farm manager.

‘Do Mum and Dad know you’re here?’ she asked.

‘Of course. We’ve been talking about the marketing for the farm, and they agreed you were the obvious choice for the job.’

And that was the bit that really flummoxed her. ‘Charlie, I really don’t get it. Why does Bluebell Farm need a London marketing agency?’

‘Because we’re moving things forward.’ He paused. ‘As you’d have seen for yourself, if you ever came back to the farm.’

He’d hit the bullseye of her guilt. Not that she was going to let him know it. ‘My life’s in London, now, not West Byfield.’ The back of beyond: a small market town in Norfolk where everyone knew everything about everyone else, mobile phone coverage was still spotty, broadband speeds meant you were two seconds behind everyone else on a video-call, and there were four buses a day to Norwich and none at all on Sundays. If she went back now, it’d be like being in the same glass box as her teen years, unable to join in and knowing that everyone was mocking her.

Absolutely no way.

Even though Charlie was being a bit judgemental right now—a far cry from the nice guy who’d rescued her, that horrible night—having a fight with him wasn’t going to help this project. She’d worked hard for a promotion; this project was going to clinch it for her, and she had no intention of losing out. Which meant being her professional self and unruffling his feathers, rather than escalating the argument. She gave him her best professional smile and said, ‘Tell me about the project.’

‘We’re rewilding the farm,’ he said.

‘Dad said you’ve switched from dairy farming to raising rare breeds.’

‘There’s no money in dairy farming,’ Charlie said. ‘It’s at the point where it costs more to produce the milk than the customer pays for it. A developer offered to buy your dad out, last year, but he refused.’

That was something her dad hadn’t mentioned to her, but Elle pushed down the sting of hurt. She could hardly complain about being shut out from anything farm-related when she’d been the one to walk away. ‘Accepting an offer like that would’ve meant he could retire,’ she said.

‘What, and see a massive housing estate built on the land his family had farmed for generations?’ Charlie asked, his tone deceptively mild.

If he could play the guilt card, so could she. ‘It could’ve been affordable housing for local people,’ she countered.

Charlie shook his head. ‘That’s not what those developers were about. And their plans were the complete opposite of what we’re doing.’

‘So there’s money in rare breeds?’

‘It’s important,’ he said.

In other words, there wasn’t any money in rare breeds, either.

She knew Charlie had bought into the farm a few months ago; was his money financing the rewilding and keeping the farm afloat? she wondered. And what would happen to Bluebell Farm when his money ran out?

‘Conservation saves species from extinction and preserves heritage,’ he said.

‘What sort of species?’ she asked.

‘We have a small herd of British White cows, a small flock of Norfolk Horn sheep, a flock of Norfolk Grey chickens and a couple of goats,’ he said. ‘We might be getting a Suffolk Punch and a donkey, in a couple of weeks.’

Donkeys definitely weren’t rare breeds. ‘Surely farming rare breeds is an expensive hobby rather than a money-making business,’ she said.

‘Not necessarily. This is where you come in,’ he said. ‘We want to raise the profile of the rare breeds and the rewilding project. The farm also needs to support itself a bit better, so we also need to raise awareness of what we offer.’

‘Which is?’

‘School visits, a farm café and shop, guided nature walks, a few relevant classes—we have an art teacher and a photography teacher, and a woman who runs spinning classes.’

For a mad moment, Elle had a vision of a barn full of exercise cycles, with an instructor at the front encouraging clients to pedal harder. But of course Charlie meant spinning as in wool, not spinning as in one of her usual gym classes. ‘Right,’ she said.

‘We have holiday accommodation,’ he said, ‘and people can choose to help with the rewilding project and the animals, or just use it as a base for exploring the area.’

‘You’ve converted some of the barns for the accommodation?’ she asked.

‘No. There are the two farm cottages—I live in the third—plus I bought three shepherd’s huts. Purpose-built luxury boutique huts with a comfortable bed, a decent shower and a kitchen, and a private space for sitting out with a wood-fired hot tub. They’re available for stays of two nights or more.’

No more large dairy herd. No more living in muddy wellies and sludge-coloured boiler suits. No more harvesting at all hours in the summer when the weather was right and the corn was ripe; Elle remembered taking dinner out to her dad in a box because he refused to come indoors until the light was too poor for him to work. It was how things had been for her entire life, and she couldn’t quite get her head round the idea of the farm being so different, now.

‘Got it,’ she fibbed. ‘So it’s education and rewilding plus glamping and the shop and café, basically.’

‘We’re also planning to start hosting weddings; we’ve already got the licence, so we were thinking of holding the ceremony itself at one end of the largest barn, and the wedding breakfast and dancing at the other end.’

‘Four different audiences, then. OK.’

Charlie looked at the woman who was sitting opposite him, taking notes. She wasn’t the Ellie Newton he’d known ten years ago. The shy girl who kept herself to herself at school because the popular kids jeered at her; the teenager who’d sobbed on his shoulder when she’d literally run into him and he’d taken her to one side, thinking how easily it could’ve been his sister fleeing from the prom in tears. She’d even changed her name to Elle—sophisticated and glamorous, to match the way she looked. Though he couldn’t think of her as anyone other than Ellie.

Right now, she looked like all the women in his old life: wearing a smart office dress, high heels, and with her long dark hair shot through with chestnut highlights. Her nails were perfectly manicured, her make-up flawless—and the bright red lipstick she wore made him very aware of the curve of her mouth. For a mad second, he found himself wondering what it would be like to feel that mouth against his own, sweet and teasing and utterly seductive...

But that wasn’t going to happen.

Apart from the fact he wasn’t in the market for any kind of relationship—it would still feel like a betrayal of Jess—this meeting was all about business.

Elle Newton had won awards for her work; he knew she’d do an excellent job at raising the farm’s profile. Particularly because she’d have a personal stake in it, with Bluebell Farm being her family’s business. Or, rather, since he’d bought into it six months ago, almost half her family’s business.

‘I only knew about this meeting about three minutes before I walked in the door,’ she said, ‘so unfortunately I haven’t had time to look at the farm’s website or look at what your competitors are doing, and that means I’m working blind. Usually clients book a meeting in advance, giving us a brief, so we can at least do some preliminary work.’

He noted the rebuke, even though it had been polite. ‘I happened to be in London for the weekend—a former colleague’s retirement do,’ he said. ‘And it occurred to me that I could drop in this morning and see if Hugo could squeeze me in. If it hadn’t been possible, I would’ve sent in a brief and booked a meeting later.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Hang on. You’re on first-name terms with the head of the agency?’

‘He used to play golf with my old boss. I’ve met him a few times at various functions,’ Charlie said.

‘So does he know that you work with my dad?’

Charlie didn’t understand the momentary expression of wariness on her face, even though it was quickly hidden. ‘I wasn’t explicit about the connection. I said I’d seen your work and liked it, and I thought you’d be the right one to handle the project.’

‘Right.’ She was definitely in cool mode now, and Charlie didn’t have a clue what he’d done or said to upset her.

‘Let’s start from the basics. Does Bluebell Farm actually have a website?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’

‘And people can book the accommodation through it?’

‘No. They phone us,’ he said.

She made a note. ‘What about the café and farm shop? Can people book a table through the website, or buy things online?’

‘We don’t do bookings and we don’t have an online shop,’ he said. ‘We book the school visits in advance, but again they phone us to arrange it.’

‘How about a blog? Or any kind of social media?’

‘There isn’t really any time to handle that,’ he said.

‘OK. So it sounds as if we’re looking at a website revamp and a media plan,’ she said. ‘Social media, article placement, advertising—’

‘We don’t have a huge budget,’ he cut in.

‘I was hardly going to suggest a campaign with primetime TV,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘Actually, now you’ve mentioned the budget: why didn’t Mum and Dad ask me to do this for them in my spare time? They must know I would have done it for them for nothing rather than them having to pay London agency fees.’

He lifted one shoulder. ‘Maybe they thought you’d be too busy.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘I’m never too busy for my parents.’

But she never came back to West Byfield. He’d noticed that, over the last two and a half years. Mike and Angie always visited their daughter in London rather than the other way round. They came back bubbling about what a lovely time they’d spent with her, the way she’d surprised them with a show or dinner out and made a huge fuss of them: but it was very obvious to him that Ellie Newton was avoiding Bluebell Farm. He knew that she’d been unhappy in West Byfield, as a teen, but surely she’d moved on from that misery over the last ten years?

‘Besides, this isn’t about your parents. This is part of my investment,’ he said. ‘I assume you know I have a forty per cent stake in the farm.’

‘Dad mentioned it, yes.’

Was she angry, relieved, or worried about it? He didn’t have a clue. She was all cool professionalism, betraying no trace of her feelings. That felt strange; he was used to being able to read people well. Elle Newton was an enigma. She intrigued him, and that made him antsy. He didn’t want to feel that spark of interest in anyone.

‘We were talking about what you expect from the agency,’ she continued. ‘Word-of-mouth customer referrals are the best kind, but you need to support that. You need people to know where you are and what you can offer them. That means sending press releases to targeted media about weddings, holidays and ecology; and making sure you have a solid website, so if customers leave a review on any of the tourist websites, then other potential customers can click on the link and take a look at what you’re offering.’

‘Which is where you come in.’

She nodded. ‘I’ll need to do a SWOT analysis and look at your USPs—that’s jargon for looking at what you’re good at and how to maximise it, what you need to improve, what your competition is doing and the differences between that and what you offer. Give me the rest of the day to have a look at where you are now and where you need to be, then maybe we can set up a video-call meeting tomorrow for me to grill you about the rest of it.’

‘It’s probably easier,’ he said, knowing perfectly well that he was practically lobbing a grenade at her, ‘if you come back to the farm to see it for yourself.’

Go back to the farm.

It was the last thing Elle wanted to do.

On the other hand, if she refused, it meant that someone else would take over the project, and she didn’t want that either. It shocked her to realise that she actually felt protective about the farm; or maybe it was her parents she felt protective about. Even if whoever handled the project in her agency dealt with Charlie, she didn’t want anyone else dealing with her parents and maybe judging them the way that the cool kids at school had judged her.

And if her colleagues found out about her background...

It wasn’t that she was ashamed of where she came from; it was more that she hated the way other people reacted to it. It hadn’t been just the popular kids at school who’d given her a hard time about the farm; her boyfriends at university had behaved in pretty much the same way, once she’d taken them back to West Byfield. OK, so she had rubbish taste in men—what had happened with Damien Price at prom should’ve warned her about that—but it had squashed her heart a little bit flatter every time she brought someone to the farm to meet her parents, and they dumped her shortly afterwards. ‘It’s not you, it’s me...’ She’d heard it too many times, and she’d known it hadn’t been the truth. It had been Bluebell Farm. Her boyfriends had been put off by the cows and the mud and the shabbiness.

She didn’t want any of it affecting her life in London now; but she didn’t want to let her parents down, either. There had to be a middle way.

‘I’m really not sure I can spare the time to come to Norfolk,’ she said. ‘It’d be much quicker to do it all by video call.’

‘I’m sure your boss would let you have a few days,’ Charlie said. ‘Maybe even a couple of weeks, so you can wrap it all up on site.’

‘A couple of weeks?’ She winced inwardly, hearing the squeak of panic in her voice. ‘Sorry. That’s completely out of the question. And I never spend two whole weeks doing a client visit—even if they have a massive budget.’

‘You said you would’ve done it for nothing, in your spare time,’ Charlie said. ‘Can I be cheeky and ask if you could maybe take some holiday?’

A working holiday in the place she’d been desperate to escape from ten years ago?

It was very far from Elle’s idea of fun. She had no problems with the concept of a working holiday; it was the destination that rattled her.

‘You could stay in one of the shepherd’s huts and experience things on the farm, the way our visitors would. It would give you the perfect insight,’ he said.

Back to Bluebell Farm.

It felt as if someone had just draped a blanket of lead round her shoulders: all the misery of her teenage years, solidified and weighing her down again.

‘I do have other clients. Not to mention deadlines,’ she said.

‘Your mum said you haven’t taken any time off in six months. I’m surprised the HR department hasn’t been on your case about it,’ he said.

Was this an oblique way of telling her that she needed to go back for a different reason—perhaps that one of her parents was seriously ill but hadn’t told her because they didn’t want her to worry? ‘Are Mum and Dad all right?’ she asked. ‘There isn’t something they’re...’ Anxiety made her spine prickle and she dragged in a breath. ‘Something they’re not telling me?’

‘They’re fine. Why would you...?’ He frowned, then grimaced. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, or make you think there was an ulterior motive for asking you to come back. Your parents are both fine. It’s just that I think you’ll get a better feel for what we’re doing if you come and see it for yourself.’

It was true. With any other client, she’d do a site visit, because it meant she’d come in as a fresh pair of eyes and be able to see things that maybe the client took for granted or hadn’t really thought about.

But this was Bluebell Farm. Her unhappy place. Something she’d rather do at a distance.

‘I’ll need to ask my boss,’ she said. She was pretty sure she could couch the request in a way that would make him say no. ‘If I can’t take the time off, then we’ll have to do a video conference instead.’

He frowned. ‘I can’t take you on a live video tour of the farm.’

She knew why. ‘Because of all the Wi-Fi dead spots.’

‘But that’s part of the charm for people who want to have a complete break.’ He smiled. ‘Spotty mobile phone coverage means you might as well switch off your phone completely.’

‘That’s meant to be a selling point?’ she scoffed. ‘A deal-breaker, more like, in today’s world.’

‘It’s definitely a selling point,’ he said. He looked at her. ‘Ellie, the farm needs help. It needs you. Your mum and dad need you.’

‘That,’ she said, ‘is emotional blackmail. If you were talking to anyone else in the agency, you wouldn’t be saying it.’

‘No. But we want you to handle the project,’ he said. ‘You’re good at this. Your mum’s got a photograph on the mantelpiece of you accepting your last award, right next to your graduation photo.’

‘More emotional blackmail,’ she said, folding her arms.

‘OK, I get that you don’t want to come back to the farm,’ he said. ‘But we still need help. If you’d rather not do it, then OK: we’ll just have to find someone else. You were the first choice because of your parents, and because their share of the farm will be yours one day—I think you ought to have some input into what we’re doing, rather than leave it to someone else.’

‘I’m not part of the business, and I’ll support my parents’ choices,’ she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

Why had Charlie Webb had to walk into her agency and turn her life upside down?

If she agreed to help, she’d hate every minute she spent at the farm. If she refused to do it, she’d feel as if she was letting her parents down. Whatever she did, she lost.

There wasn’t a middle way. She’d have to choose the lesser of two evils. ‘If I can get the time off,’ she said, ‘I’ll do it.’

‘Great.’ He looked pleased. ‘I can give you a lift back today.’

‘Hang on. I can’t just drop everything,’ she said. ‘I have commitments and there are things I’ll need to move. Let me talk to my boss, and I’ll call you later.’

‘All right.’ He handed her a business card. ‘If I’m in a dead spot, my phone will go through to voicemail. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back.’

‘I’ll look over the website later today,’ she said, ‘and I’ll have a list of questions and suggestions.’

‘Great.’ He stood up and held out his hand. ‘Thanks for your time, Ellie. Elle,’ he corrected himself swiftly.

Shaking his hand was meant to feel like a normal business gesture, but Elle’s skin tingled where it touched his. She didn’t dare look him in the eye, in case he guessed.

Charlie Webb was her client, she reminded herself. Blurring the boundaries of that relationship would affect her job, and that in turn would mean she’d miss out on the promotion she’d worked so hard for. Not going to happen. Even if that hadn’t been a barrier, she wasn’t looking for a relationship. She’d given up on trying to find Mr Right and she was totally focused on her career.

‘Nice to see you again, Charlie,’ she said, giving him her most professional smile.

Once she’d shown him out to Reception, Elle took a quick break to video-call her mum and check that her parents really were on board with what Charlie was doing with the farm. A phone call wasn’t good enough; she needed to look into her mum’s eyes and be sure that Angie Newton was telling her the truth. ‘He’s not pushing you into things, Mum, is he?’

‘No, love. Actually, his energy’s refreshing,’ Angie said. ‘I was a bit surprised when he, of all people, suggested we start doing weddings, but he’s got a point. This is a beautiful part of the world to be married in. And if people want to marry in the local church, he’s planning to offer a horse and carriage to transport the bride and groom between here and the church.’

‘What do you mean, you were surprised when he suggested weddings?’ Elle asked.

‘I thought you knew.’

Elle frowned. ‘Knew what?’

Angie looked awkward. ‘Oh, love. I don’t want to gossip. Maybe you should ask him.’

This sounded like something important. ‘Mum, please, just tell me,’ Elle said. ‘I know you’re not a gossip and you know I’m not, either. This sounds like something I need to be aware of, so I don’t accidentally put my foot in it.’

‘His wife was killed in an accident, hit by a car.’

God, he was young to be a widower, Elle thought. Thirty-one: only three years older than herself. ‘That’s tough. Poor Charlie.’

‘He couldn’t bear to stay in London after she died. That’s why he gave up his job in the City and went to do his Masters in Environmental Studies, and he ended up doing his final project here. Your dad liked his ideas, and that’s why he offered Charlie a job to manage the farm and do the rewilding.’

And Charlie’s successful career in the City would’ve given him the cash to buy that chunky share of the farm a few months ago, Elle thought. ‘When did she die?’

‘Five years ago,’ Angie said. ‘He’s barely dated since. I know Barb—’ his mother, and one of Angie’s friends even though she’d moved away ‘—worries herself sick about him.’

Elle took the rest of the comment as read: Angie was just as worried about her singleton daughter. ‘Thanks for telling me, Mum. I’ll tread carefully.’

‘You’re really coming back to the farm?’ Angie’s face brightened.

‘If I can get my boss to agree, I’ll stay for a few days,’ Elle said. ‘To sort out everything for the media project.’

‘I can’t wait to see you, love.’

Guilt flooded through Elle. She loved her parents dearly, and she knew that a thrice-weekly video call and the treats she sent them really weren’t enough. But forcing herself to go back to the farm was like taking off a plaster very, very slowly. ‘And you, Mum. I’d better go. But I just wanted to be sure you and Dad weren’t being steamrollered before I started putting things in place at this end.’

‘Charlie’s a nice boy,’ Angie said. ‘He’s kind.’

Yeah. But Elle couldn’t tell her mother how she already knew that. It would involve explanations that would hurt her parents, and that wasn’t fair. ‘I’ll see you soon. Love you.’

She went to see Rav and closed his office door behind her. ‘Can we have a confidential word, please?’ she asked.

‘Of course.’ Rav looked concerned. ‘Is something wrong?’

She took a deep breath. ‘In the interests of full disclosure—and also in strictest confidence—I need to tell you that Bluebell Farm belongs to my parents as well as to Charlie Webb.’

‘Your parents?’ He blinked. ‘So you already know all about what they want?’

‘No.’ At his surprised stare, she hedged, ‘It’s...complicated.’

‘Is it a problem?’

It could be. But Rav had asked her to do the project, and been explicit about promoting her if she did a good job. She’d make sure it didn’t become a problem. ‘No. I was just a bit surprised, because I didn’t realise they were changing things quite so much, to the point where they do actually need a marketing plan.’ She didn’t want to bring up all the mud and the manure. Or her own ambivalence towards the farm. ‘They want me to go and stay for a few days. I know a site visit wouldn’t normally take more than a day, and I know this is ridiculously short notice, but...’ She bit her lip. ‘Would it be possible for me to go tomorrow, and take a few days’ holiday to do it?’

‘In other words, you’re planning to work through your holiday to keep their budget low? HR would have my head on a platter for even entertaining the idea,’ Rav said, shaking his head.

‘Two weeks. One day as work, the rest as holiday,’ Elle said.

‘When you’ll still be working.’

She squirmed. ‘Look, I don’t want anyone else to do it, because this is my family we’re talking about and I want to support them. As long as that’s not a problem for you?’

‘If anything,’ Rav said, ‘it means you’ve got an even stronger motivation to make this campaign succeed.’

‘I do. And it’s a shoestring budget, so I think this is the best solution,’ she said. ‘This is my family, so I admit I plan to do some of the work in my own time. But, as far as HR is concerned, I’m on holiday.’

‘And you think that’s acceptable, not having a proper break?’ Rav asked dryly.

‘We all have to put in extra hours sometimes, to make things work,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t do it for any other client. This is my family. You’d do the same, wouldn’t you, if it was your family’s business?’

Rav looked at her for a long, long moment. ‘Yes. I know where you’re coming from.’

‘Good. There shouldn’t be a problem on any of my projects. I’m up to date with everything, and all the dates, deadlines and details for the next steps are in my project plans.’

‘I wouldn’t expect anything else from the queen of critical path analysis.’ Rav inclined his head. ‘All right. I’ll let HR know. Actually, they did bring your name up this morning as someone who hasn’t taken time off for a while and they’re a bit antsy about it, so I’m sure we can live with the short notice of your “holiday”. Though I do expect you to take a bit of a break while you’re away.’

‘I will. There won’t be any commuting, for a start.’ She gave him what she hoped was a winning smile.

He rolled his eyes. ‘Go and hand over your projects, then do whatever you need to make that campaign go viral. But I meant it about a break. I want you refreshed when you come back to London, not worn out.’

‘Thanks, Rav.’

Elle messaged her parents to say that she’d be at the farm in the morning, and Charlie to say that she’d be getting the seven a.m. train from Liverpool Street to Norwich tomorrow and then grabbing a taxi; then she spent the rest of the day sorting out last-minute issues and handing over her projects to colleagues. Back at her flat, she cancelled her next two weeks of classes at the gym and booked her train ticket, rang her best friend to let her know what was going on and that she needed to cancel drinks and their film night for the next two Thursdays, then settled down to look through Bluebell Farm’s website and social media accounts.

Home-made websites could be charming; Bluebell Farm’s wasn’t. It was muddled and didn’t give anywhere near enough information. No wonder the farm wasn’t paying for itself.

Well, that was where she came in.

Elle had just finished some notes and was starting to look up farm holidays and weddings, when her phone beeped with a couple of texts. The first was from Charlie, to say he’d meet her at the station. The second was from her dad, to say he was delighted that she was coming to help.

She tried to brush off the flurry of guilt. Right now, she still wasn’t entirely sure that this was the best idea. She was filled with a mixture of trepidation at going back to the place where she’d been so unhappy, worry about setting up expectations with her parents that she’d never be able to fulfil, and very muddled-up feelings about Charlie Webb—who’d definitely got hotter over the past ten years. She’d noticed how many women walking through Reception had given him a second look. If she hadn’t known him, she would’ve given him a second look, herself: probably a third.

But his past would put another barrier between them; her mum had said that he wasn’t dating, so clearly he wasn’t ready to move on after his wife’s tragic death. This was going to be strictly business. She’d do the job as professionally as she could, and then she’d come back to London. Get her promotion. And then she could settle down to the lovely, full life she’d worked for—far away from Bluebell Farm.

Copyright © 2023 by Pamela Brooks

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ISBN-13: 9780369727718

Billionaire’s Snowbound Marriage Reunion

Copyright © 2023 by Justine Lewis

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