back to him, and the pain and hurt and betrayal he saw literally took his breath away, as real and visceral as a blow to the solar plexus. Suddenly he realized that he’d been fooling himself by taking Heather out, fooling himself hugely in relation to Charlie.
He took a step forward, searching for the words to convince her that this was not what it looked like. That he wasn’t seeing another woman. That this had nothing to do with them, with her.
“Charlie.”
She whipped her head around, her body following jerkily as she walked away from him.
“Charlie!” He lengthened his stride, charging ahead of Heather.
After a few steps Charlie stopped. Her shoulders lifted, then dropped, and she turned to face him.
Her smile was perfectly judged—friendly, a little surprised, not too effusive. Her eyes were opaque, giving nothing away.
“Rhys. I almost didn’t hear you. This is a coincidence.”
He stretched out a hand to touch her, needing to comfort her, to soothe away the hurt he’d seen—the hurt he’d caused. She shifted deftly to one side, her gaze focused over his shoulder.
“Hi,” she said.
He glanced back as Heather walked the final few feet to join them. She was laughing, one hand attempting to stop her hair from flying across her face. She looked model perfect and beautiful and utterly desirable—and again he cursed himself for a fool for thinking that she could act as a substitute for Charlie. It was an insult to both women, not to mention completely futile.
“Isn’t it a great day?” Heather said.
“It is. Really nice,” Charlie agreed, smile still firmly in place.
There was so much pride and courage in that smile… It hurt him to look at it, especially when he’d seen the pain that lay beneath her mask.
“You look like you’ve been making the most of it,” Heather said.
“My second attempt at the Bondi-Coogee track. Still not quite up to the full return trip yet. I’m Charlie, by the way.”
“Heather. Nice to meet you.”
Rhys watched as the two women shook hands. Heather glanced at him, but for the life of him he couldn’t think of anything to say. All he could think about was what he’d seen in Charlie’s eyes.
“I’d better keep moving,” Charlie said. “I don’t want to hold you up.”
He stepped forward to block her path. “Charlie. I’m sorry, I should have told you.”
She met his eyes, her expression completely neutral. Her soldier’s face, controlled and calm. “Your private life is none of my business.”
She stepped around him and he started to go after her.
“Am I being thick or am I missing something here?” Heather said.
He stopped in his tracks. He couldn’t chase Charlie and leave Heather here to cool her heels. He’d already been enough of an asshole for one day. He glanced at her, taking in her bemused expression and defensive body language.
“Please tell me that wasn’t your girlfriend, because I am really going to hate myself if I’m the other woman,” she said.
“Charlie isn’t my girlfriend.”
Heather’s eyes narrowed. “But she was, right?”
“No.”
Charlie had been his for one night only.
“Then what was all that about?” Her tone sounded a little pissy.
Fair enough. He deserved it. And Heather deserved the truth. The problem was, every fiber in his being was straining to go after Charlie. To comfort and reassure her. To explain.
If she’d let him.
He cast a look up the hill. Charlie was crossing the road, her step brisk, her head high. Graceful and dignified and strong, as ever.
“If you want to go after her, just go,” Heather said, shooing him off with a dismissive gesture.
He wasn’t stupid or rude enough to take her at her word. “Come on, I’ll take you home,” he said. “And I’ll explain.”
“An explanation would be good.” She looked at his face then shook her head ruefully. “Although I have a feeling I’m not going to like what I hear. So much for the cute guy in 4D.”
He attempted a smile and willed her to start walking. He needed to get her home then he needed to find Charlie and talk to her.
If she’d let him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHARLIE WALKED TO her car in a daze. Once, during training, she’d been standing too close when a mortar shell had exploded. She hadn’t been injured, but for a whole day afterward her ears had rung and she’d walked around in a haze.
That was how she felt now. Her ears weren’t ringing, but she felt numb. Utterly numb.
For weeks she’d been telling herself that she was smart and pragmatic. She’d even rejected Rhys when