Gabe knew he had to stop. Had to drag himself away from the sweet, soft curves pressed to him in all the right places. Had to do it now before he and Bella passed the point of no return.
At the very least he should have cleared the air with her first, and he certainly should have chosen a better time and place for seduction than a rock by the side of a burned-out bush road beneath a nailing midday sun.
It took every ounce of his control to lift away from Bella’s soft, willing mouth. He kissed her forehead as he released her.
‘In case you were wondering . . . ’ His voice was rough and frayed around the edges. ‘That wasn’t planned.’
‘I know, Gabe. We should never play those silly word games.’
He tried to smile. ‘They’re lethal.’
Bella looked away to the long, disappearing black line of burnt grass. ‘In case you were wondering . . . I reckon we’re still World Champions.’
It was the playful title they’d given themselves years ago and it brought back a torrent of memories. Some-crazy-how Gabe resisted the urge to pull her close again, to take all that she offered and more.
He forced levity into his voice. ‘So you’ve benchmarked us against a few foreigners?’
She shrugged and kept her gaze fixed down the track.
It was the answer he deserved. Gabe grimaced. ‘Well, at least, now we know.’
Bella spun around. ‘Know what?’
‘That we’ve missed each other.’
Instead of a snapping retort, her lovely green eyes shimmered damply.
Hell. Gabe touched her cheek, caught a glittering tear with his thumb. ‘Belle, I shouldn’t have said that. And I shouldn’t have kissed you. I had no right.’
‘No right?’ She swiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands. ‘Are you for real, Gabe Mitchell?’ Now she was bristling with anger. ‘I’m not some girl you’ve just met. We used to be best friends and lovers. We can’t pretend we don’t have a history together.’
There was a noise at their feet. George Clooney was wrestling with the remains of a paper bag.
‘He’s stolen our sandwiches,’ she said, looking down.
Gabe wouldn’t allow himself to be distracted. He knew he had to try to sort this out with Bella while he had this chance.
Beside him, however, she let out a heavy sigh. ‘You’re probably right. Maybe our history doesn’t count.’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘But we parted as enemies.’
‘Not enemies.’
‘On very bad terms then.’
‘I’m sorry, Bella. I was in a bad place.’
She looked up slowly, her eyes once again bright and challenging. ‘And where are you now?’
He managed a small smile. ‘In a better place, I hope.’
Her eyes widened as if she questioned what he meant by that, as if she was waiting for him to explain. ‘Once upon a time we used to be able to talk about anything,’ she said.
‘I know.’ He grimaced. ‘There’s a hell of a lot I’d like to explain. I really want to set everything straight.’
He would do anything to win Bella back. But damn it, he had to be careful. The last thing he wanted now was to build up false hopes for her or for himself.
Truth to tell, from the moment he’d seen her again, he’d been scheming strategies to shift some of his family responsibilities, but these weren’t in place yet. And before he laid himself bare, Bella needed to be honest about her plans. No point in starting anything if she still wanted to live her life on the other side of the world.
He was angling to tell her this when she eased closer, lifted her face and brushed her soft, warm lips against his jaw. She was his tawny temptress again, green eyes glowing, wavy hair tumbling from a loose knot.
She brushed her lips against his neck, igniting a lightning bolt of desire.
‘I can’t help thinking about another wise old saying,’ she murmured silkily.
‘Yeah?’ His voice was thick and raspy.
‘Like practice makes perfect.’
The last shreds of Gabe’s control disintegrated. Swiftly he moved from the rocky seat to stand before her, and this time, as he kissed her, he drew her hips forward and she slipped her legs either side of him.
The rough denim of their jeans met, seam against throbbing seam. A soft moan broke from her. As if he’d caressed her bare skin. Right there.
‘Quickly, kiss me again,’ she pleaded.
Gabe obliged.
Bella couldn’t stop smiling as she drove home. She and Gabe were back on track and that glorious fact eclipsed everything – their two years of estrangement, her travels, her unplanned return . . .
Last week Gabe had asked for friendship.
Friendship?
Bella snorted. He’d been fooling himself, fooling them both when he’d tried that gag. Today they’d blown it clear out of the water.
Of course she and Gabe were so much more than friends. They couldn’t deny the deeper connection and now, almost miraculously, they were an item again. Gabe and Bella. Bella and Gabe. A hot item. Smoking hot.
Admittedly they were a smoking hot item still separated by a gulf of huge as-yet-unexamined issues, but at least Gabe was prepared to talk to her now. In fact, he was coming over tonight to have dinner at Mullinjim – Bella hoped Liz wouldn’t freak about cooking for one extra – and then to have an all-important discussion. Gabe wouldn’t have offered to take this step if he didn’t intend to follow through.
Deep in her bones, Bella was sure they’d work through this to find their own happy ever after.
Woohoo! She was so excited and happy she thumped the horn twice just for the sheer hell of it, frightening a flock of galahs that wheeled away, showing off their rosy-pink breasts.
Okay. She should try to calm down now. No point in arriving home all beaming and jumping with excitement like a kid on Christmas morning. Liz would be sure to smell a rat and the last thing Bella wanted was an inquisition about her day at Redman Downs.
She drove to the machinery shed and backed the ute under the gantry, grateful that using the chain block to raise the water tank from the back of the ute required all her concentration.
With that task completed, she felt more or less composed as she walked across to the house, happily anticipating shedding her smoky clothes and shampooing her hair, and finding something flattering to wear for dinner.
As she stepped onto the verandah she heard voices – probably young Declan Browne having his piano lesson.
Or was that a man’s voice?
Curious, Bella crossed the unpainted timber boards to the doorway. She froze as the voices came clearly down the hallway from the kitchen.
‘So how do you like your coffee?’ Liz was asking.
‘Just black, please.’
A chill skittered down Bella’s spine. The visitor’s voice was deep and masculine. It was a voice she knew well. With an unmistakable French accent.