AN HOUR LATER they stood and stared at the expanse of beach. White sand stretched before them, sloping to the near transparent turquoise of the sea, dappled and flecked by droplets of the February sunlight.
‘This is absolutely beautiful,’ Ava breathed.
‘Yes.’ But Liam realised he wasn’t looking at the view. Instead his gaze had settled on Ava and something tugged inside him. She looked beautiful, her blonde hair ruffled by the breeze, her wide amber eyes entranced by the scenery. Get a grip. Think of some facts. ‘It’s a protected area so there are no beach bars or any developments allowed.’
‘It’s an ideal setting for some photos. I am going to do a collage and then post them up with a suitably cheesy message. Let’s start simple, pose sitting on those rocks over there.’
They made their way across the sand and the feel of it crunching between his toes, the fresh sea breeze, all instilled a sense of calm. Dispelled the thoughts of his mum and John and Max, the reminder of Christmases spent away to allow them the space to have a proper family Christmas. Unlike those they’d endured when Liam was a child, marred by the alcoholic rants of his father. The most memorable the time Terry Rourke had flung the turkey at the wall. They reached the rocks and she sat down and inhaled a deep breath. ‘How about we sit quite close, look at each other and make funny faces?’
‘Funny faces.’ Despite his best effort Liam could feel his face pull itself into a scowl, the thought of looking like an idiot not one he relished.
‘Yes. You know. Kind of playful and like we’re having fun.’
‘No. I don’t know. I’ve never taken a selfie and I haven’t pulled a funny face since I was a kid.’
Ava stared at him. ‘Never taken a selfie. Ever?’
‘Nope. I run a security firm—social media isn’t my thing. I’m more of a low-profile kind of guy.’
‘It’s not just about social media—I take loads of selfies with friends because it’s nice to have quickly accessible memories. Look. I’ll show you the sort of thing I mean.’ She rose lithely to her feet and he caught his breath. She stood straight and slender, the dress she wore floated in the breeze in a swirl of colour, one hand caught her hair back to keep it from her eyes and in that second he got what she meant. Wanted a picture to capture this memory.
Desire tugged at his gut, but it was more than a physical need. Her smile, the teasing glint in her eyes combined, made him want to catch her in his arms, twirl her round, see laughter illuminate her face. No point. Once the charade was over he and Ava would go their separate ways and he would gain nothing from staring at a picture that simply marked an illusion. This wasn’t real. Yet for one poignant instant he wanted it to be. The very idea caused a trickle of panic, urged him to flee, to distance himself from temptation.
Focus. Liam Rourke didn’t flee, he fought, and he would do that now. Would remain calm and still, wouldn’t let Ava so much as suspect the sheer stupidity of his emotions. Yet he couldn’t keep his brows from lowering into a frown at his own idiocy. How could he even contemplate a relationship with Ava? A vulnerable woman caught up in grief and complexity. The last thing she needed was man who had no idea how to navigate the shoals of a relationship. Come to that it was the last thing he needed. His relationship with Jess had been a mistake from start to finish. His mistakes had compounded, one after another and ended in tragedy. Never again would he take that risk.
‘Here we go.’ Ava tilted her phone and he pulled himself to the present. ‘These are the sort of selfies I take—because they’re fun.’ She scrolled down and he saw images of Ava with a pretty dark-haired woman. They were both beaming at the camera and the other woman was making a gesture over Ava’s head. In another they were posing, dressed in pyjamas, a big bowl of popcorn next to them.
‘That’s Emily,’ she explained. ‘She’s my best mate. This is the sort of thing I’m looking for—a fun photo. So you need to stop channelling your grumpy-old-man mindset and give this a try.’
‘Grumpy old man?’ Belatedly aware that his face was now set in a scowl, though not for the reasons Ava believed, Liam tried to change his expression to relaxed.
‘Yes,’ Ava said firmly. ‘Though actually perhaps that is an insult to grumpy old men. Come on, Liam. Selfies are part of our world and it’s time we got some evidence that you know how to have fun.’
‘I do know how to have fun.’ Was that a hint of gritted teeth he could hear in his voice?
‘Prove it.’ The challenge in her voice was unmistakeable. ‘When was the last time you had fun? And work-related events don’t count.’
Dammit. Liam racked his brains, and didn’t like the answer that kept coming up no matter how much he ransacked his memory banks. Last time he could remember having fun was with Ava, laughing, talking and then, of course, those two kisses. But before that... He was coming up blank. ‘This is a daft conversation.’
‘In other words you can’t come up with anything. Can you?’
‘I am having a temporary memory blank.’ For Pete’s sake—his brain didn’t even seem capable of making up anything fun.
Ava glanced sideways at him; a mischievous smile played on her lips. ‘Then let’s start now. I’ll race you to the waves. Last one there pays a forfeit.’
Before he could even factor in the challenge she was off and running and he wasted further seconds caught flat-footed watching her as she sprinted forward, hair streaming behind her.
Quickly he started after, marvelled at her speed on the sand that seemed to slow him down, and Ava got to the cerulean sea with a couple of seconds to spare, turned to watch him, laughter in her eyes and on her lips as he reached her. ‘I win,’ she crowed and he gave a sudden laugh.
‘So what’s my forfeit?’
For an instant her gaze snagged on his lips and he knew what she wanted to suggest, could see it in her eyes, in the unintended provocative tilt of her body towards him, the instinctive step forward and then she shook her head, a small decisive admonition to herself.
‘A funny face. You need to pull a funny face.’
That made him pause as he thought about it. ‘What sort of funny face?’
‘Any sort. Like this.’ She stuck out her tongue and put her hands to the side of her face and wiggled her fingers.
‘Fine.’ Feeling like a complete idiot, he copied her actions, was rewarded by her spontaneous peal of laughter. He stepped forward into the water, felt the cold swish of the waves as they covered his toes. Without thinking he held out his hand and she took it, and together they stepped forward until the water reached their knees.
He turned to her, looked down at their clasped hands and their previous conversation unrolled before him. Following his gaze, she too stared down and for a moment it all felt too intimate, too close, and then before it could morph into awkwardness Ava smiled.
‘It’s OK. Let’s not overthink it. Let’s use this as the perfect photo opportunity.’ Gently she dropped his hand and moved closer to him. ‘You need to put your arm round my waist.’ But now all he could think about was her closeness, how right it felt, and the panic resurged; his brain felt fuzzed by the conflict of emotion inside him. A desire to hold her close, a yearning to kiss her buffeted the knowledge that this was all wrong. A mirage.
Carefully, gingerly, he did as she said; his heart hammered his ribcage, and nerves and anticipation tightened a band across his chest as her arm slipped round his waist. His pulse pounded as her corn-blonde hair tickled his nose and a series of images flashed through his brain. All of Ava, in the shop, laughing as she raced over the sand, her expression when they’d kissed, her response, the sensations. Everything fused into an intensity of reactions and as she looked up at him, he smiled, just as the camera clicked.
He didn’t want to move, wanted to gaze on her upturned face, lean down and taste those lips, lips that enticed and tempted. The instant froze in time; it seemed to stretch and pull to urge him to act. He blinked, tried to break the spell and now she dropped her arm from his waist. Stepped back slightly shakily and shook her head so her hair hid her expression. Turned slightly away to study the photograph.
‘Look. It’s pretty good.’
Ava was right. It was good; any observer would see what they were supposed to see. A relaxed couple smiling each other. A qualm struck Liam—his smile was genuine, whilst Ava’s had obviously been her model’s pose, an illusory rictus. The knowledge felt stupidly bleak and he forced a lightness to his voice.
‘Not bad. I’ve got the hang of this. Maybe I should sign up with an agency.’
‘They’d snap you up,’ she agreed, matching his tone, though her expression was still partly obscured. ‘A few more and I think we’re good to go.’
‘Excellent. I’m not sure about you but I am hungry. There’s an amazing pasta place in town if you fancy it?’
‘Sounds good.’
And so a few photos later Pierre picked them up and took them back to the town and Liam led the way to small, discreet restaurant. ‘You get great food in the more touristy places but, according to Elena, this is the best place to eat in all the town.’
‘It smells incredible,’ Ava said as they followed a waiter to a small table in the window. She looked around, took in the simple rustic interior, the wooden tabled topped with jugs filled with sheaves of wheat.
‘The pasta is all handmade in our kitchens,’ the young man explained as he handed them menus. ‘From Cappelli wheat, which is both delicious and healthy. It used to be known as “meat for the poor”.’ Another smile and, ‘I’ll be back in a few minutes for your orders.’
‘Thank you.’ Ava studied the menu and frowned. ‘I may as well just close my eyes and jab. They all sound incredible.’ Quickly she suited action to word. ‘I’m going to have the laganari alla Martinese. Dry-cured ham, dates, local cheese and exotic-sounding mushrooms.’ She glanced at him, saw that his gaze held both amusement and warmth and for some reason she felt colour rise to her cheeks. ‘What about you?’
‘Why don’t you choose for me? You could use the same method.’
She looked at him suspiciously. ‘Why?’
Now he smiled and the heat deepened. ‘Honestly? I want to watch you do it again. You had a really serious frown and you look like you probably did when you were a child opening her Christmas presents.’ He gestured to the menu. ‘And it seems as good a way as any to choose.’
She shook her head. ‘Then you do it. And I get to watch you.’
He raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated movement and she replayed the words. ‘OK. That sounds a little weird, but go ahead.’
His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug and then he closed his eyes and for that instant Ava took the opportunity to study his features. The strength and determination of his jaw and the thickness of his dark eyelashes. His finger hovered and then descended and he opened his eyes. ‘Sagna al baccala. Salt cod and pine nuts and broad beans. I like it.’ Now suspicion tinged his tone. ‘You didn’t take a photo for your collage, did you?’
‘No, but I should have.’
‘I’m not doing it again,’ he said firmly. ‘You have enough photos.’ Once the waiter took their orders he looked at her. ‘What exactly will you do with them?’
‘We need to talk about that,’ she said, and for a moment she felt a sudden pang of regret. Instead she wanted to discuss the menu, the weather, what books she liked, films, music. Like a date? A real date? Was that what she wanted? A small swirl of confusion spiralled in her—the very fact she had to ask the question generated further panic. She had to get a grip. This was fake and she had to remember that. The very last thing she wanted was a relationship with a man who was still in love with his dead wife. All that could lead to was misery. Her own mother had fallen for a man in love with his first wife and had spent her whole life striving to keep him, lived in fear of losing him. But with Liam Ava would already have lost.
‘Go ahead,’ he said and she pulled herself to the present.
‘Well, once we do the “meet the family” tomorrow I’ll start posting the photos on social media.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m not quite sure what may happen next but I think you need to be prepared.’
‘Prepared for what?’
‘There may be quite a bit of publicity. I’ve been in the press recently and in the past.’
‘Exactly. That’s kind of the point.’
‘Yes.’
Liam looked at her. ‘What am I missing?’
‘It’s not a lot of fun. I’ve spent most of my life in the public eye and it’s...intrusive.’
‘OK. Define intrusive.’
Ava hesitated. ‘Let’s say we get asked to do an interview for a glossy magazine. They will ask questions.’
‘Sure. Like our first date and where we met, et cetera, et cetera.’
‘Yes. But they won’t stop there. They will also ask about our past and that will include past relationships.’
‘Oh.’ Liam exhaled a sigh. ‘Of course it will. I should have realised that.’
Ava could see his discomfort at the very idea and she didn’t blame him. In the past days he had barely mentioned his wife at all and she sensed for Liam his marriage was intensely personal.
She sat back as the waiter approached and served their pasta dishes, smiled her thanks and waited until he was out of earshot.
‘It’s not just the questions—there will also be interest. People taking pictures, people talking about us, and it won’t always be positive commentary. When you’re part of a couple people seem to think they have the right to comment on your private life, assess your every move.’
‘You’re speaking from personal experience.’ Liam frowned. ‘Your last relationship was pretty high profile, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ Ava took another forkful of her pasta, focused for a moment on the sheer pleasure experienced by her taste buds in the hope it could counter the bitter taste generated by thoughts of her last relationship. Another mouthful and she sighed. ‘On that note I suppose we should share some information about our past relationships. A real couple would have done that by now.’
He nodded, his face unreadable apart from a grim twist of his lips.
‘I know it will be very hard for you to discuss Jess, and I’m truly sorry. Please know I am not trying to pry.’
Another nod. ‘I get that.’
‘I may as well go first.’ She sensed from his silence that he needed time to gather his thoughts. ‘How much do you know? It was a fairly well publicised romance.’
‘If I remember right he was a producer or something to do with acting.’
‘Yes. His name was, well, still is, Nick Abingworth and he was every girl’s dream. Handsome, charming...he had the ability to make you believe you were the world to him. He was an on-the-up producer—he’d done a very successful series and was about to film the next season. Just beginning to get some recognition. I was the perfect girlfriend for him.’ Her gaze met his and now she allowed her lips to turn up in a cynical smile. ‘For all the same reasons I am the perfect one for you. I was famous, I raised his profile, I had the connections he wanted, and I came from money.’ The reminder of exactly why they were sitting there was a welcome one. ‘He was trying to get a new project off the ground so I did my best to help him—I partied, I introduced him to people, I was photographed with him, and I did everything I could to promote him.’
‘It sounds like you did a lot for him. What did he do for you?’
A small frown creased her brow. ‘It doesn’t work like that. I loved him, I wanted to make him happy, wanted us to work out, so I did my best to make that happen, be who he wanted me to be.’
His flinch was unmistakeable, as if her words had caused him physical pain, and then he shifted, reached for his fork, and she wondered if she’d imagined it. Then he said, his voice tight, ‘But surely you should just have been yourself.’
‘That was me being myself.’
‘But did you enjoy the parties, promoting Nick?’
‘I... I didn’t really think about that. It was the right thing to do so I did it. I mean, I like the occasional party but I’m more a “curl up in front of a film with a big bowl of popcorn” kind of girl really.’ Not that she and Nick had ever done that. Somehow Ava had convinced herself that all the socialising, all the networking had only been temporary, that once Nick had achieved his goal they would settle into a ‘normal’ life, maybe even get married, have kids. Because she’d believed he loved her.
‘What happened?’
‘We broke up. I asked my father to invest in Nick’s project and he refused. Said he didn’t think it was viable.’ Ava had been stunned and then furious. Especially when James Casseveti had explained his other reasons.
‘I’m sorry, Ava, but I don’t believe the project is viable. I also don’t believe in Nick. I think he is using you.’
Her father’s face had been unusually grim.
‘I won’t let that happen. You deserve real love, a man who loves you—not your money, or your public persona, or your connections.’
It was in that moment that Ava had known with certainty that her father had married her mother for all those reasons, a confirmation of a suspicion she’d harboured and resisted all her life, and anger had heated her veins.
‘Just because that’s what you did it doesn’t mean Nick is the same. It doesn’t.’
She’d waited, hoped her dad would deny the accusation, would agree with her, but he hadn’t.
‘I’m sorry, Ava. I hope I’m wrong, but I won’t back Nick’s project.’
‘Nick was devastated so I backed it myself.’
Used up a vast amount of her savings, gave him a lump sum and loaned him the rest. Told herself that there was a difference between buying love and trusting love. Told herself that Nick’s easy acceptance of the money was all right, that she didn’t want gratitude because, as he pointed out, he was giving her an opportunity to invest. Told herself that she was imagining a change in their relationship, a withdrawal from Nick.
‘Then Dad had his heart attack. I gave up modelling to enter Dolci. Life changed and Nick couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t cope with my “emotional neediness” so he left.’
The flush of remembered humiliation touched her anew and she pulled herself back to the present, saw the understanding in his eyes as he watched her. Nick had only been interested in what Ava Casseveti could get him and she’d been taken for a fool. That wouldn’t happen again.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘But he sounds like a scumbag. You’re better off without him.’
‘Yes, I know.’ But it hadn’t felt like that at the time. Yet, ‘But compared to what happened to you a break-up is nothing. My situation was sad, yours is tragic.’ Without thinking, she reached out and placed her hand over his. ‘I’m sorry to ask, but do you think you could tell me a little bit about your marriage? I know it must be painful but it will look odd if I don’t know anything.’
There was a silence as he took the last sip of his sparkling water and then he nodded, as the sun vanished behind a cloud and a small shiver touched her. ‘I get that. But how about we move on from here first? There’s a bar a few streets away with a heated rooftop terrace—we can watch the sunset.’
The words held a sense of poignancy and she nodded.