Hardly. But she stood immobile, feet stapled to the floor, while she watched him dispatch Brad in less than five seconds. Why weren’t her legs moving? Why wasn’t she getting the heck away before it was too late?

Dane could tell Mariel was unsettled by the sudden turn of events as he made his way back. Her eyes glinted dangerously, that beautiful mouth a slash of coral in her pale face. But, he noted with satisfaction, she’d made no attempt to disappear amongst the guests.

‘I was hoping to leave early,’ she said the moment he reached her side. Setting her cup down, she unzipped the diamante bag that swung from her shoulder. ‘About now, in fact. I wouldn’t want to spoil the evening for you. You probably came with someone…’ She pulled out her mobile. ‘I’ll call a cab.’

‘I told you. I’m taking you home. And it’s not a problem; I came alone.’

‘Oh…’ He saw her register that fact as her eyes clashed with his again.

Not a problem? Dane gave himself a mental slap on the forehead. They had unfinished business that went back ten years. To a night of youthful passion on a girly patterned quilt, the night-cooled fragrance wafting inside on the moonbeams.

Then a very ugly end outside his father’s garage.

Not a matter that could be sorted out tonight, Dane knew, but he’d taken one look at Brad and some sort of proprietorial instinct had kicked in.

‘But you’ll want to stay, enjoy…’ She waved a carefully manicured hand. ‘Whatever…’

‘I’m ready to leave when you are.’

‘Very well,’ she said with quiet formality, her spine rigid. ‘Thank you. I’d like to leave now, if that’s okay. My body clock’s still on Greenwich Mean Time.’

‘We’ll say our goodbyes, then.’ He placed a hand on the small of her back. He hadn’t counted on the heat that rushed into his palm at that first electrifying contact. Beneath his palm the sensuous fabric of her designer dress shifted against her flesh, making him wonder how she would feel without the silk.

Just smooth, sleek skin.

She flinched as if burned. So she felt it, too, he mused as he steered her towards their hosts. Interesting. Had she and her French lover called it quits? She’d returned alone, and there’d been a definite chill in her reply when Paris had been mentioned.

The paparazzi, eager for their quota of celebrity guest snaps, were milling about the property’s open gates. A security guard waved Dane through. Bulbs flashed and a blur of faces bumped up against the window.

‘You’d be accustomed to this?’ he asked, steering his way through the photographers. ‘I should have asked if you were okay with it.’

‘Yes and yes. But in this case they’re not aimed at me.’

‘That ain’t necessarily so. You’re somewhat of a celebrity yourself these days.’

‘Not so much here. And it’s not as if I’m your date or anything.’

He glanced her way before spinning the car onto the country road, leaving the press behind in a spray of dust. ‘They don’t know that.’

She didn’t reply. In fact she looked serenely ahead, watching the moon-drenched paddocks and stands of gum trees flash by. Every so often a light glinted from a farmhouse behind the regular curtains of foliage.

She wasn’t as calm as she let on, he noted. The grip on her bag was white-knuckled, and her thumbs massaged the strap in tiny jerky movements against her thighs.

Thighs that looked smooth and silky and…very naked.

Eyes on the road. Only on the road. Sweat broke out on his brow. He switched the air-conditioning to full blast. ‘Too cold?’ he asked a moment later, more to fill the silence than anything else. Silence that seemed to throb with the sound of the bass from the stereo speakers.

‘No…no, it’s…cool.’

She changed position, and he didn’t have to look to know she’d stretched those long naked legs out in front of her. Within the Porsche’s confines her roses-and-sin perfume wound around his senses like a long-forgotten dream. He thanked whatever lucky star was out tonight that it was only a short drive over the next ridge of hills.

Through childhood she’d always been his best mate, generous and loyal and stubborn. By seventeen she’d turned into a confident, ambitious young woman who wanted to take on the world. And leave him behind.

He shook off the edgy thought and glanced her way again. At twenty-seven…Well, right now she was all about lusciousness and impact. But how well did he know this grown-up version? ‘You were saying you’re not modelling now?’ he prompted into the silence.

She hesitated. ‘No. My business partner and I parted ways.’

‘Luc?’ She’d carefully avoided mentioning the fact that he’d also been her lover. ‘Phoebe told me all about him.’ Slight emphasis on ‘all’.

‘Yes. Luc. I don’t want to talk about it. Him.’ She waved a disconcerted hand. ‘Any of it.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and hoped he sounded sincere. And why wouldn’t he be? He’d only ever wanted the best for Mariel.

‘How’s your father?’ She spoke suddenly, as if she’d plucked something—anything—out of the ether to switch topics.

‘He was okay when I spoke to him a couple of months ago.’And that was all Dane needed to know, all Mariel needed to know, and all he wanted to say about his old man.

‘And your mother?’

‘Still living in Queensland, last I heard.’ With her man of the moment.

‘So…by that I take it you don’t live at home now?’

Home. Dane scowled at the white line dissecting the road as it curved over a rise. Had the generations-old homestead set amidst acres of rolling Adelaide hills ever been a home? ‘Home’ implied two parents who were committed to each other, their marriage and their offspring. At least it did in Dane’s opinion; it seemed his parents thought differently.

‘I moved out years ago. Soon after you left, in fact. I’ve got my own place in North Adelaide. It’s close to work. Jus and I have an IT business there.’

‘Then I’m taking you out of your way.’

‘Not a problem. I like driving.’ He glanced in the rear-vision mirror, frowned at the car which had been tailing them since they’d left the wedding, and with a sharp twist of the steering wheel pulled over to the edge of the road. ‘Especially when you get a view like that.’

An almost full moon lifted out of the landscape, bleaching the fields and spilling inky shadows beneath the gums. From the corner of his eye Dane watched the car behind slow down, pass, then continue on.

‘Oh…wow.’ Mariel shimmied upright, her face animated in the soft glow. ‘I’ve missed this. It must be the atmosphere here, but the Aussie moon looks so much bigger than the Parisian moon.’ A quick grin danced over her features. ‘And wouldn’t they kill me back there for saying that?’

‘They wouldn’t if they were here,’ Dane murmured, his thoughts tumbling back in time. As a kid, how many evenings had he spent watching possum shadows play amongst the trees against a star-studded sky? Gazing at the moon in all its phases?

Waiting until it felt safe enough to go inside?

He shook his head, edged back onto the empty road. Being with Mariel after all this time was tossing up old memories.

The last time he’d seen her she’d been careening down his father’s driveway, grating gears and spraying gravel as she fishtailed onto the road.

He pressed his foot harder on the accelerator. The sooner he got her home, the better off he’d be.

The better off they’d both be.

A few moments later they approached her parents’ home. Dane checked the road behind him again before turning into the driveway. Since Mariel didn’t have a remote, he climbed out, punched in the code Mariel gave him on the panel set into the stone pillar and the tall gates swung open. They continued down a long drive, where blue agapanthus bordered a healthy lawn on one side, a row of old pines on the other. Ivy climbed the walls and iron lace framed a wide veranda. As they came to a stop three security lights winked on, but no light shone through the front door’s stained glass.

He peered up at the blackened windows. ‘Your parents out?’

‘They left for a Pacific cruise yesterday. Thanks for the lift.’ Her eyes flicked to his. He glimpsed nothing in those dark depths, as if she’d blanked all thought.

He didn’t want her to go in yet. Not this way. Hell, not as this polite and distant stranger.

He reminded himself their childhood friendship had been years ago. She wasn’t the young, innocent girl he remembered, with her fairytale dreams. She was a successful, mature and independent woman.

And what a woman she’d grown into. Those youthful curves had only grown lusher, and if it were possible her face more beautiful.

He switched off the ignition, sensed her instant panic. ‘Mariel…’

‘No.’ She closed her eyes briefly. ‘Not tonight.’

His hands tightened on the steering wheel momentarily. But tension showed in the lines around her mouth, the smudges beneath her eyes. ‘I’ll walk you to the door.’

‘It’s okay; this isn’t the city,’ she said, swinging the car door open.

‘I’ll walk you to the door,’ he repeated, and pulled his key out of the ignition. Some things hadn’t changed—still as stubborn as she’d always been.

And as fast—she was already halfway up the path before he’d climbed out. The aftermath of the day’s heat still blanketed the earth, thick and smelling of dried eucalypt and pine.

Metal tinkled as she fumbled with house keys, holding them aloft and squinting at them under the porch light.

‘Allow me.’ Dane took the keys from her hands. The brush of skin against skin sent a tingle through every nerve-ending in his fingers, up his arm and straight to his groin.

The flash of awareness when their eyes met was a stark reminder that they could never go back to the easy camaraderie they’d once had.

He wasn’t sure he even wanted that with her any more. Less than an hour in her company and his wants, his desires, were fanning to life inside him like a bushfire sweeping up from the valley floor.

She broke eye contact first, and a breathlessness caught at her throat when she said, ‘Phoebe gave them to me, but I didn’t ask her which one opened the front door…’

He fitted a key into the lock but the door opened without it. ‘Not locked,’ he said.

‘Oh…that’s probably my fault. I assumed the door automatically locked once closed.’ Someone who didn’t know her as well as he did wouldn’t have noticed the slight sag in her posture.

Dane stepped past her and through the doorway, located the light switch. A warm glow from the antique foyer lights gleamed on polished wood and brass fittings, and brought a rich luxury to the burgundy carpet runner.

She glanced at the discreet panel on the wall as she followed him inside. ‘Damn. I didn’t even remember to set the alarm. Dad’ll throw a fit if he finds out.’

‘Only if you tell him.’ Without looking at her, he started down the hall. ‘I’ll check the place before I leave.’

‘That’s not necessary,’ she assured him quickly. A sudden nervous energy spiked her voice.

‘Yes. It is. Anyone could have come in.’

‘I look after myself these days.’

‘I’m sure you do.’

A few moments later, ground floor covered, he started up the stairs, switching on lights as he checked the rooms. Mariel followed, muttering protests. He paused at the last door on the left.

Mariel’s room.

So he left the light off. But as soon as he’d stepped inside he realised he’d made a mistake. Moonlight flooded the room, spilling over an open suitcase, a dressing table strewn with tubes and bottles. He breathed in the mix of feminine potions, powder and perfume like a man who’d gone too long without.

He’d never denied himself the pleasures to be found in a woman’s bedroom, but at this moment he couldn’t remember a single one that had ever compared to that one all-too-short time in Mariel’s arms.

Dangerous thoughts. He dragged his attention back to the task he’d set himself. ‘Everything seems to be okay, so—’

‘Of course it is,’ she snipped. ‘I told you it was. But did you ever listen to me? No. Oh…Why did you have to come in and…? Be you.’ She punctuated those final agonised words with a long slow breath.

The old guilt rolled nastily through his gut. In the pregnant silence that followed he heard the wind sigh through the trees, an echo of his own feelings. ‘I thought that was what was so good about us,’he said, his eyes fixed on the moon but not seeing it. ‘We could be ourselves.’

‘Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away. Maybe.’ Mariel switched on the light. He didn’t know why, except that maybe the moonlit scene reminded her, too. He turned to face her. She’d folded her arms across her chest and was watching him with unnerving calm. Either that or she was a damn good actress.

‘It’s been a while, Queen Bee.’

He felt rather than saw her little hitch of breath at the use of her old nickname, then she pulled herself up straighter, lifted her chin. ‘I’m not that inexperienced, trusting little girl any more.’

‘Dane…’ Mariel said, reaching for him with passion-drenched eyes that hinted at vulnerability.

The kiss.

Their first fully-fledged kiss.

A goodbye kiss, because she was leaving and for who knew how long?

He met her eyes squarely, ready to admit the pain he’d inflicted on her young pride an hour later. ‘I was eighteen and an insensitive jerk.’

But that was then. This was now. And now was full of possibilities. She wasn’t an innocent; she was an international sensation. A modern woman who’d no doubt had her share of men over the years—a thought he didn’t particularly want to dwell on.

Her mouth twisted with grim humour. ‘Has anything changed?’

A grin tugged at his mouth. ‘Nope. Still that same insensitive jerk.’ He couldn’t help himself—he stepped closer, so their bodies almost touched, and brushed a finger down her cheek.

She shook her head. ‘We’re not those kids now. It’s in the past. Leave it there.’

But Dane couldn’t leave it there, whatever the hell it was, because his brain had ceased to compute anything so complicated as reason or words or sentence structure. All it recognised was the fragile face he suddenly found himself holding between his palms, emerald eyes swimmingly close, the seductive scent of her perfume, her hands against his chest and her indrawn breath as he leaned in to touch his lips to hers.

He tasted heat and sun-warmed honey, and he slid his hands through silky hair then down over smooth shoulders and chiffon to haul her closer, so he could absorb the fuller, richer flavour as her mouth opened for him.

He closed his eyes as her body grew pliant, melting against his. Fingertips scraping against his shirt. Soft throaty murmurs. Fast, warm breaths against his cheek—

Hard, flat palms pushing at his chest—

Heaving a breath, she reared back, eyes dark and wary. ‘Why did you do that?’ She touched the fingers of one hand to her lips then spun away.

Good question. Damn good question. He noticed the wisps of hair he’d dislodged from the clasp at the back of her head floating about her temples and around her neck. ‘Perhaps I wanted to see if it was the same as I remember.’

She turned, eyes flashing with residual passion…or desire or anger—he couldn’t tell through the sexual haze still blurring his vision. To give himself a moment he paced to the dressing table, picked up a bottle of perfume, set it down.

‘And was it?’ She closed her eyes, as if regretting the question, then shook her head. More silken hair tumbled over her shoulders. ‘Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.’

‘Or maybe I just wanted to kiss you for old times’ sake.’

He leaned nonchalantly against the dressing table as if his blood wasn’t thudding through his body like a big bass drum. As if his jeans didn’t feel as if they’d shrunk two sizes in the crotch. ‘You kissed me back, Queen Bee.’

The shared knowledge singed the air between them, and she drew a shaky breath but didn’t reply.

‘And it felt good. You thought so, too.’

She let out a stream of air through her nostrils. ‘Isn’t that just a typically arrogant male response?’

‘Am I not a typically arrogant male?’

She glared back, unsmiling, or was that a hint of humour at the corner of her mouth?

‘Good,’ he said, taking it as a yes and venturing a grin of sorts. ‘Now we’ve got that sorted, I’ll check outside.’

Mariel shot a hand up, palm out. Oh, no, she wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily. ‘Not sorted, Dane. Why don’t we just get it out in the open now, then never speak of it again?’

His smile faded. ‘Okay,’ he said slowly. ‘Why did you come to see me that night? We’d said our goodbyes at your place.’

‘That kiss. It meant something to me. It meant everything to me.’ Her heart twisted, remembering.

‘It was a goodbye kiss,’ he murmured.

‘I thought—stupidly and naïvely, I realise now—that I was in love with you. And when you kissed me…like that…I thought…’ She waved it away. ‘Well, I went looking for you because I wanted to ask you…to tell you I was coming back…that we…’

That evening was still as clear as day in her mind. After The Kiss, she’d driven to his house. She’d seen his car lights on in the garage…

‘I heard a noise,’ she said. ‘I was so pathetically dumb I thought you were in pain. Imagine my shock-horror when I saw Isobel on the bonnet of your car and you going at it like…well.’

She recalled that she must have made some sort of sound, because they’d both turned and seen her. Then bizarre fascination had held her in thrall for those few agonising seconds while her gaze swept the two of them and her heart shattered.

‘I hate you, Dane Huntington, I never want to see you again!’

She didn’t remember how she’d made it to the sanctuary of her car—it was the feminine giggle and the ‘Poor Mariel’ that stuck in her mind, and the sound of Dane’s footsteps behind her, his calls for her to wait up. Wait?

Dane shook his head and she knew he, too, was remembering. ‘Thing is, Mariel, as close as we were, as much as I cared for you, the one thing we never discussed was our sex lives.’

‘Or lack of.’ She held his gaze unapologetically.

‘We should have. It would have saved any misunderstanding. I came by the next day to apologise, but you’d already left. So I’ll apologise now. For hurting you.’

She nodded. ‘Accepted. But you didn’t have any reason to apologise. I realise that now. You didn’t see me the way I saw you.’

Maybe not then. She read the message in his eyes and something fluttered inside her. Or perhaps it was something else that had stopped him.

‘I tried contacting you several times,’ he said. ‘You wouldn’t take my calls. You won’t know I was in Paris a couple of years later. I dropped by to see you, but your landlady told me you were in London for the weekend with your boyfriend.’

‘He wasn’t my boyfriend; he was a fellow student.’

‘Student, boyfriend—it makes no difference now.’ He needed air. ‘I’ll go check the garden.’

It took a good ten minutes to scour the perimeter of the extensive grounds. Not that it was absolutely necessary. But it gave them both some time.

As he returned to the house light from the kitchen’s stained glass windows flowed into the adjacent atrium, turning the abundant greenery within to the colours of amber and ripe plums.

From the other side of the glass he saw Mariel, sitting on the edge of the raised pond beside a stone maiden pouring sparkling water from her jug. A moth, distracted by the light, fluttered above her head. Shards of crimson and gold light sliced through the fronds of a potted palm, danced on the water and reflected over the face he hadn’t had the pleasure of looking at up close and personally in a long time.

She’d needed to chase her dreams overseas, he reflected. And she’d excelled. He’d been right in not taking their relationship to the next logical step. Thinking herself in love with him would have brought her nothing but grief. She might never have left, and he hadn’t wanted to be responsible for that.

Marriage had never been on his agenda.

He focused on her once more. She’d braced her forearms on her thighs and held an open can of beer between her palms. Her posture drooped and he was hard pressed to remember any occasion when Mariel had allowed herself that indulgence since early high school. She probably hadn’t noticed that her dress gaped at the front, revealing more creamy cleavage. Another tinny sat on the ledge beside her.

He took that as an invitation.

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