Love at the Little Wedding Shop by the Sea - Jane Linfoot Page 0,133

again.’

It’s sad that this is so hopeless. If the last few months have taught me anything, it’s not to waste my time on anyone reluctant. And Nic is so much more decided than that – he’s in total denial. ‘If ever I try again …’ and right now I feel like I never will, but at least I know the theory ‘… I’ll be waiting for that special person who wants me every bit as much as I want them.’ Even as I’m saying the words, it’s reinforcing the message. A guy who’s running to the other side of the world to avoid me really isn’t that person.

Nic reaches out and rubs his thumb over my cheekbone. ‘You don’t deserve anything less, Milla Vanilla.’

‘No hard feelings, though?’ After all of this, I’d hate to part on bad terms. Phoebe and Ben have taught me that bad feelings bring you down; happiness comes from a positive place. And Nic might be ripping my heart out here, but it’s not deliberate. He’s never led me to believe he was available. He’s never been less than open and honest about it. As heartbreakers go, he’s very honourable. And endlessly caring. And considerate.

His chest heaves. ‘I’ll only ever have the warmest feelings for you.’

I’m swallowing back the lump in my throat as it’s slowly sinking in he’s not going to be anywhere near. That if there’s anything to ask, or say, time’s running out. ‘Do you still have your scar … from my arrow?’

As he tugs his shirt out of his trouser belt, and holds out his arms, the white fabric hangs luminous in the moonlight. ‘Why not take a look?’

My fingers are shaking as I fumble with the buttons. As I pull back the fine cotton, and tentatively slide my fingers over his taut tanned skin I feel him tense. ‘Is that ticklish?’

His voice is very low. ‘No, just very nice. Have you found it yet?’

As my fingers come across a small knot of skin, I smile. ‘It’s still here.’ I put my palm on his ribs, and stretch out my fingers as I peer into the shadows to find the mark. ‘You’ll be taking that with you, wherever you go.’

‘To remind me of the woman who stole my heart, then stabbed me.’ As he laughs and shivers again he reaches out, cupping my face in his hands. ‘That day at Jagger’s you were talking about being ready to move on.’ His voice is so deep, it’s vibrating below the rush of the surf and the wind. ‘Are you still thinking that would be good for you?’

My lips are parted, and my heart is banging so hard all I can say is ‘Ahhhh … I could be …’ I reach up with one hand, slide my fingers through his hair, and pull his head towards mine. Because I really do have nothing to lose here.

He’s breathing into my ear. ‘If you’d like me to help …’ His head is tilting as he looks at me. Then his jaw is lining up with mine, and just before his lips slide onto mine he says ‘Just say the word.’

And then as I find those familiar lips and get swept into the molten chocolate fountain of his mouth, it’s as if the world stops turning, and the sea is rushing through my head. And it’s like the first day in the van, and the day at the wedding fair, but because no one’s watching, it’s supercharged with an energy and an urgency so forceful that by the time we break apart, I feel like a rag doll that lost its stuffing.

When I finally get to talk all that comes out is a breathy gasp. ‘For definite … absolutely … totally … please …’

‘So long as you’re sure it’s what you want.’ There’s a low laugh in my ear. ‘I’ll take that as a yes then.’

This is the bit in the movies where I’d sinuously slide my body up against his to reinforce that. Then sweep him into another earth-shattering snog.

But this is me. Things in my life have improved. I didn’t say I’d had a total personality transplant and become entirely perfect. I’m guessing I’m always going to have my catastrophic moments.

Sure, I’m trying for super-slinky, but what actually happens is that halfway through the move I catch the raggedy bit of my long chiffon sleeve on Nic’s belt buckle and end up with my hand jammed – for want of a better description – against