Wedding Date With Mr. Wrong Page 6

  An unforgettable impact, considering the schmuck he turned into around her.

  When he finally tore his gaze away from the captivating sight of Callie giggling alongside Izzy, Tom’s smug smirk greeted him.

  ‘So tell me. What did an amazing woman like that see in a putz like you? And why the hell did you let her go?’

  Did.

  Past tense.

  Having his brother verbalise what he’d been wondering himself since reconnecting with her ticked him off more than the uncertainty plaguing him.

  This week was about work and familial obligation, before he fled back to the life he liked. If a little light-hearted flirtation with Callie made it more bearable, so be it.

  He hadn’t banked on this restlessness, this annoying feeling that he was missing out on something by making the lifestyle choices he had. Worse, having his brother articulate it.

  ‘Leave it alone,’ he muttered under his breath, garnering a broader grin from Tom.

  ‘You know I’m the last person to believe in all that romance crap, considering the number Tracy did on me, but have you ever considered this coincidence of her coming back into your life might mean something?’

  Archer stared at his brother in amazement. Tom had given up his dreams to turn pro for Tracy, a local surf groupie who’d deliberately got pregnant to snare her man. Tom had foregone his dream to marry Tracy, stay in Torquay and raise Izzy.

  Ironically, Tracy had been the one to take off a year into the marriage, leaving Tom with a toddler and a nagging bitterness.

  Tom didn’t believe in happily-ever-afters, so the fact he’d mentioned the word romance and alluded to fate alerted Archer to how badly he must be making a fool of himself.

  ‘You’ve been spending too much time reading Izzy’s fairytales, mate.’ His gruff response came out as a snarl, and he immediately realised his reaction had increased rather than eased Tom’s suspicions.

  Tom held up his hands. ‘Just voicing an impartial opinion. No need to get your tether rope in a knot.’

  Callie pumped her fists in the air and shimmied her shoulders as Trav made a disastrous move with his queen. Izzy cheered and Callie joined in, her vivacity flooring him in a way he’d never expected.

  She’d been so focussed yesterday, concentrating on business and little else. He’d forgotten she could be like this: funny and vibrant and cute.

  Well, not forgotten exactly; the memories had been deliberately shoved to a far recess of his mind and ignored. It wouldn’t be good for him to recall how good they’d been together for that brief time in Capri. It would only end in tears.

  Archer glared at Tom. ‘You breathe one word of her staying here to the folks and you’re dead.’

  A cunning glint lit Tom’s eyes. ‘Tell you what. I’ll keep my mouth shut if you admit you still want her.’

  In response, Archer got him in a headlock. He could never stay detached with Trav or Tom for long. Each year when he returned his initial aloofness disappeared a little quicker.

  Besides, he didn’t really blame them for withholding stuff he should have been privy to. That had been his dad’s doing and, while he loved the stubborn old coot, he couldn’t forget. Forgive? Yeah, he’d done that a few years back. Now he just had to pluck up the courage to let Frank know, rather than punishing him because he couldn’t get the words out to make it all better.

  As he tussled with Tom, Izzy joined in the fun by leaping on her dad’s back. Her squeals of laughter didn’t distract him from the truth.

  Denying any semblance of feeling for Callie was useless.

  She’d wheedled her way under his skin.

  Again.

  And there wasn’t one damn thing he could do about it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘PEACE at last.’ Archer slid Callie a coffee as she lounged on the balcony.

  ‘Your brothers are cool and Izzy’s adorable,’ Callie said, adding an extra spoon of sugar to her espresso.

  She needed the hit, still reeling from seeing Archer in a family environment. The guy she’d known had never talked about family. He had been the quintessential loner who breezed through life without a care in the world. The guy who didn’t commit to anything or anyone beyond his beloved surfing.

  So to see him interacting with his brothers had thrown her. He’d been reserved at first, as if he didn’t want them in his home—which made no sense after the rough-housing she’d seen once he’d lightened up.

  When she’d strolled into the kitchen after her walk it had been like walking smack-bang into an invisible glass wall. The tension had been that thick. She’d glimpsed the circumspection in his eyes and the fact she’d recognised it, could get a read on his feelings after all this time, had irked.

  She’d masked her discomfort by being bright and bubbly and a little gushing with his brothers and niece. Which had seemed to annoy Archer further.

  What was wrong with the guy? As his date for the wedding, didn’t he want her to act naturally around his family? Sheesh.

  And that was another thing that had thrown her: his obvious attachment to his niece. He’d never struck her as the type to like kids. Not with his lifestyle. But he’d been smitten with Izzy, and seeing the two of them together, their heads bent close as they mulled over a jigsaw puzzle, had unlocked a host of feelings she’d rather not deal with.

  She didn’t want to remember how attentive and caring he’d been in Capri. And she sure as hell didn’t want to acknowledge his consistent flirting, slowly chipping away at her necessary resistance.

  She wouldn’t give in—not when she knew his overt displays of charm came as naturally to him as catching a wave. She’d been sucked in by it once, and had been let down beyond belief.

  She knew that feeling well. Bruno Umberto had made an art form of building up hopes only to let down his daughter.

  As for the rare glimpses of unguarded admiration—first when she’d been playing chess with Trav, then when she’d made lemonade for Izzy—she didn’t like that at all.

  He’d used to look at her like that in Capri, as if she were the only woman in the world, and to see the same look seriously perturbed her. She couldn’t afford to get involved with Archer again—not when her emotions were already bruised and fragile from the rollercoaster ride with her mum.

  Living life in the moment was one thing. Setting herself up for another dose of heartbreak was another.

  She’d given in to his request to be his wedding date for one reason only: to keep the peace between them so they could get the surf school business done and dusted this week.

  That kiss on the beach had been just like the one in the car on the way down here yesterday morning. Archer being Archer. Impulsive. Rash. Selfish. Doing what he wanted regardless of the consequences.

  Harsh? Maybe, but all the kisses in the world couldn’t turn back time and erase the way he’d ended things between them, and that was what she had to focus on if she were to keep any residual feelings at bay.

  And doing that was imperative. She couldn’t afford to acknowledge how incredible his kisses were, how alive they made her feel.

  Uh-uh. She needed to focus on the one reason she was here: business.

  ‘Yeah, Izzy’s the best.’ Archer held up a hand, wavered it. ‘Tom and Trav? Not so much.’

  ‘Your mum must’ve had a handful with three boys.’

  He stiffened, as if she’d asked an intensely personal question rather than making conversation. ‘Yeah, we kept her on her toes.’

  She wanted to ask about his parents, about his childhood, but she couldn’t get a read on his mood.

  They were sprawled on comfy cushioned sofas—she’d studiously avoided the love-seat—on the glass-enclosed balcony, overlooking an amazing ocean tinged with sunset. It reeked of intimacy, yet Archer’s perfunctory answers and shuttered expression weren’t encouraging.

  ‘Do you want kids?’

  And then he went and floored her with a question like that. A question far surpassing int
imacy and heading straight for uncomfortable.

  ‘Not sure.’

  She cradled her coffee cup, hoping some if its warmth would melt the icy tentacles of unease squeezing her heart.

  After the genetic testing, when it had been proved she didn’t have the mutated gene that sounded a death knell for her mum, she’d undergone counselling to get a grip on her rioting emotions: relief, guilt, happiness, fear. Yet for all these years, deep down where she hid her innermost fears, she hadn’t been able to shake the irrational dread that somehow those doctors had made a mistake and she’d contract the disease after all.

  Crazy and illogical. The odds were in her favour to have perfectly healthy kids. But why tempt fate when it had dealt her such a rough hand so far?

  ‘The opportunity hasn’t come up?’

  Surprised by his line of questioning, she eyeballed him. ‘If you’re asking if I’ve been in a serious relationship since Capri, no. I’ve dated. That’s about it.’

  She half expected him to flinch at her bluntness in bringing up the past, but to his credit he didn’t look away.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘What is this? Pry into Callie’s soul day?’

  She placed her coffee on the nearest table and her hands unexpectedly shook.

  ‘Callie, I—’

  ‘Sorry for snapping your head off, but if you’re hoping to hear I’ve been pining for you all these years, and that’s why I’m not involved in a serious relationship, you’re delusional.’

  His eyes widened in horror. ‘Hell, that’s not what I want.’ He rubbed the back of his neck in a familiar gesture that added to the poignancy of the moment. ‘I just feel like we’ve been doing this avoidance dance, concentrating on work, making polite small talk, retreating to our rooms. Then I saw how you were with Izzy and it got me thinking...’

  She shouldn’t ask. She really shouldn’t. ‘About?’

  Yep, she was asking for it.

  ‘About why the beautiful, vibrant woman I met in Capri hasn’t been snapped up by some smart guy?’

  A guy smarter than you? she wanted to say, but silently counted to five before she blurted it out.

  ‘Maybe I don’t want to be snapped up? Maybe I’m happy with my life the way it is?’

  ‘Are you?’

  She stiffened as he reached out and traced a fingertip between her brows, eliciting a shiver.

  ‘Because you’ve got this little dent here that tells me otherwise.’

  Touched he’d noticed, annoyed at his intuitiveness, she swatted his hand away. ‘How did you get so perceptive?’

  ‘Honestly?’

  She picked up her coffee cup, cradled it, hiding behind it as she took a deep sip and nodded.

  ‘The way you lit up around Izzy was the same way you used to be in Capri. Carefree. Quick to laugh. Like nothing fazed you.’ He paused, as if searching her face for approval to continue. ‘At first I thought it was me and the way I treated you in the past that was bugging you. But it’s something else—something that runs deeper.’

  He snaffled her hand and squeezed it before she could protest.

  ‘You know you can tell me, right?’

  Uh-oh. Callie could handle teasing, charming Archer. She couldn’t handle this newer, sensitive version, who’d honed in on the emotional load she carried daily like an invisible yoke.

  ‘We should finish off the home page of the website—’

  He gripped her hand tighter. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Wow, you’re bossy.’ She blew out a long, slow breath, not wanting to do this but knowing he’d keep badgering until she did.

  He’d been like that in Capri: badgering her to have dinner with him that first night; badgering her to stroll along the moonlit beach afterwards; badgering her with his loaded stares and sexy smiles and wicked ways.

  Now, like then, she was powerless to resist.

  ‘It’s my mum. She has motor neurone disease.’

  Shock widened his eyes and sadness twisted his mouth. ‘Aw, honey, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Me too,’ she said, gnawing on her bottom lip and willing the sudden sting of tears away.

  She’d cried enough to fill the Tasman Sea but it didn’t change the facts. The horrid disease was eating away at her mum’s nervous system one neurone at a time.

  ‘There’s nothing they can do?’

  She shook her head, grateful for the strong hold he had on her hand. She would have bolted for the sanctity of her room otherwise and not come out for the next few days.

  ‘They initially gave her three years. She’s lasted seven.’

  Quick as ever he did the math, and understanding flickered in those aquamarine depths. ‘Did you find out soon after you got home from Europe?’

  She nodded, remembering the far-reaching consequences of that diagnosis.

  Despite the way they’d ended, would she have booked a flight to join Archer if her mum hadn’t fallen ill? Would her life have been filled with sunshine and sand and surf rather than a rented box-like office space? Would she have been blissfully unaware of the potential gene landmine pumping through her veins and had Archer’s kids?

  Stupid thinking, considering Archer hadn’t wanted her back then, let alone a commitment that could lead to kids.

  ‘So she’s undergoing the usual rounds of physiotherapy and occupational therapy to keep her as mobile as possible?’

  ‘Yeah, though her muscle wastage is advancing pretty rapidly.’

  How many times had she gently massaged those muscles in the hope they’d somehow miraculously regenerate? Too many. The sight of Nora wasting away before her eyes broke her heart.

  ‘She’s confined to a wheelchair, though the special home where she lives is fabulous in taking care of her.’

  ‘The staff in those facilities deserve a medal, considering the range of healthcare they provide.’

  ‘How come you know so much about it?’

  ‘I sponsored a charity benefit for Lou Gehrig’s disease in LA. Thought I’d better know something about it before rocking up to the shindig.’

  Callie eyed him speculatively. Sportsmen around the world attended charity benefits, but she doubted many of them cared enough to delve into the details of the fundraiser’s disease.

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  Touched he’d offered, she shook her head. ‘Thanks, but I’ve got it covered.’

  At least she would have once she got paid for this surf school campaign. Which meant getting back to work, despite the urge to linger in this intimate cocoon where the guy she’d once loved seriously cared.

  ‘We should get back to work—’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ he said, scooting alongside her and draping an arm across her shoulders before she had a chance to move. ‘We’ve been pushing it pretty hard since we arrived yesterday. Let’s just chill tonight.’

  Chilling sounded good, but sadly there was nothing cool about being snuggled in the crook of Archer’s shoulder. The opposite, with her body warming from the inside out until it felt as if her skin blistered.

  She should move, should head inside and collate a few more ideas for the website’s link page. Instead she found herself slowly relaxing into him, wanting to savour this moment.

  The irony of being cradled in Archer’s arms after she’d rammed home the fact that this week was just about business wasn’t lost on her. It felt good. Great, in fact. But temporary—a comforting hug from an ex. An ex who’d ended their all-too-brief relationship in no uncertain terms.

  She wouldn’t get used to it, but for now, with his solid warmth seeping through her, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if she made the most of their remaining time together.

  Was she a glutton for punishment to contemplate another short-term fling? Heck, yeah. But considering the road ahead—the uncertainty of her mum’s illness, her lifespan, and the ensuing pain when the inevitable happened—would it be so bad to take a little bit of happiness while she could?

  Logically, she�
��d be an idiot to contemplate it.

  Emotionally, her heart strained towards him, eager for affection, knowing how sensational they could be together even for a scant week.

  He kissed the top of her head and she sighed, appreciating his sensitivity in not pushing her to talk any more.

  Besides, she’d said enough. She hadn’t told any of her past dates about her mum—hadn’t let them get close enough. Yet in two days she’d let Archer march back into her life—and a little corner of her heart if she were completely honest—and trusted him enough to divulge the truth about her mum.

  At least she hadn’t told him all of it. Some things were best left unsaid.

  The memory of her genetic testing sent a shiver through her and he tightened his hold, conveying strength in silence.

  Yeah, she could do worse than have some fun for a change over the next week.

  In the lead-up to Christmas surely she’d been a good girl all year and Santa owed her big-time?

  * * *

  The next morning Callie had to admit spending the week in Torquay had been a stroke of genius on Archer’s part.

  She’d worked uninterrupted for the last three hours, perched on his balcony, enjoying the sea air and the view, inspired in a way she hadn’t been for a long time.

  She didn’t know if it was being away from the office for the first time in years that had sparked her creativity, but she’d added some amazing touches to the surf school website today. Ideas to build on when he gave her the grand tour this afternoon.

  It helped that he’d made himself scarce since dawn this morning. She hadn’t been looking forward to having him hover over her workspace after her confession last night.

  Sure, it had seemed as if telling him about her mum had been the right thing to do at the time, while they were relaxed and cosy at dusk, but in the harsh light of day, after a sleepless night spent second-guessing herself, she hadn’t wanted to face him.

  Shared confidences bred intimacy, and that was one thing she couldn’t afford with Archer. She’d been foolish enough in testing herself by being here this week. For while he’d demanded she come to Torquay to secure the campaign she probably could have weaselled her way out of it if she’d tried.