“I thought you weren’t talking to me,” I admitted.

“That certainly would have been one of my better ideas,” she replied coldly, and I couldn’t help wincing at her tone even though she was talking to me.

I sighed, rubbing a hand over the scruff on my face.

“Don’t be like that, Caro. Look, I’m sorry. I mean it. Around you, I just seem to open my mouth to change feet.”

“You can say that again.”

“I will if you let me buy you breakfast,” I offered, giving her my best smile, the one that usually worked on women. But not today.

“Are you stalking me, Sebastian?” she said bitterly. “I thought we said everything we had to say to each other last night.”

Ah shit.

“I just want … can’t we be friends?”

I didn’t really want to be friends, but I’d take what I could get.

“Friends? I was under the impression you wanted to fuck me out of some sense of revenge.”

What the…? No. Maybe … choose the right answer, Hunter!

“No!”

“Are you sure about that?” she bit out. “Because last night you told me that’s exactly what you did to your CO’s wife. Why should I be any different?”

I stared at her in disbelief. That was what she really thought of me? I was still gaping at her when she spoke again.

“Just go,” she said wearily, fingering the keycard in her hand.

Fuck, no!

I took a deep breath, trying to push the desperation away.

“I know I’m saying everything wrong but … we used to have fun, didn’t we?” I pleaded. “Let’s just spend some time together—get to know each other again. You’re right: we can’t pretend the last ten years never happened. Just … give me a chance. I’m not the heartless bastard you seem to think I am. I’m still me, Caro.”

She hesitated and I could see the indecision on her face, sensing that she was weakening.

“We could start with breakfast,” I suggested hopefully. “Who knows, I might be able to get through a whole meal without making you mad at me.”

A reluctant smile crept across her face.

“It seems unlikely,” she said, her words failing to match her expression.

I smiled with relief.

“You gonna wear that robe? Not that I give a shit—you could go naked for all I care. In fact…”

She groaned. “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

“Want me to scrub your back?” I suggested, only half joking.

I knew I was pushing her, but I couldn’t help it.

“Sebastian, I thought you were going to try and make it through breakfast before making me mad at you—right now your adolescent flirting is just annoying.”

I held up my hands in a gesture of defeat, but the smile on my face wasn’t going anywhere soon.

“Okay, I get the message. I’ll see you downstairs.”

I turned away quickly before she changed her mind, still grinning, then started whistling to myself.

Fucking whistling! What a pussy.

I didn’t like to admit that it was the song that always reminded me of her when I was 17: Van Morrison’s Crazy Love.

At the hotel’s restaurant, I let the waitress lead me to a table by the window. I wasn’t hungry, so I ordered a black coffee and sat waiting, memories spooling out relentlessly.

I wasn’t even sure what I wanted anymore—definitely more than just a quick fuck. But if friendship was all that was on offer, I’d take it—even if it killed me.

When I saw Caro walking across the restaurant toward me, that unfaithful friend named hope made a swift reappearance. My heart stuttered, then restarted at a quick march.

She was simply dressed in old jeans and a pale yellow t-shirt. She’d always looked good in yellow. Her dark hair curled over her shoulders and down her back, thick and glossy. I remembered tangling my hands in that hair, lost in the curves of her amazing body.

But all I could manage to say was, “You look great.”

She snorted in disbelief, and I didn’t know how I’d managed to piss her off. I only knew that I had. Maybe she thought I was giving her a line. I wasn’t.

“Did you order yet?” she asked

“No, just the coffee: I was waiting for you.”

“I usually have the continental breakfast.”

I waved to the waitress, and she walked over briskly to take Caro’s order. From the way she swung her hips as she walked, I got the impression that she’d have given me more than the full continental. Yeah, not interested.

I tried to think of something to say that would ease things between us—because right now the tension was making me crazy.

“Was there anything in particular you wanted to see in Geneva?” I asked, trying for casual, the kind of trite shit that other people seemed to manage with a fucking problem.

“You have to make it through breakfast without being irritating first,” she reminded me, but the smile on her face told the truth.

“Yeah, well, I like a challenge,” I grinned. “Seriously: anything you want to see?”

“Not especially: I saw quite a lot wandering around yesterday. The Russian Church, maybe? I hear that’s pretty amazing.”

I folded and unfolded my napkin several times before I made my suggestion.

“I had an idea of something we could do—if you like.”

“Which is?”

“How about a trip to Chamonix? It’s only an hour away—or just a bit longer if we take the scenic route through Lausanne. It’ll be a really great trip through the Alps.” Please say yes. “I’ll have you back before bedtime.”

She eyed me warily, but I could tell she was wavering. I bit back the smile that was threatening to break out.

“And you absolutely promise you’ll bring me back here by evening? No accidentally running out of gas or getting lost.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, lying through my teeth.

I’d already thought of several scenarios that ended with us having to share a hotel room.

“Okay,” she said, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was agreeing to. “But I’m serious about getting back: I’m waiting for my travel permits and I can’t afford to miss them.”

My conscience pricked at me, making me shift uncomfortably in my seat.

“Caro, I’ll get you back here tonight, I promise.”

I wasn’t hungry when the food arrived, but I’d gotten used to eating whatever was put in front of me whenever it was put in front of me. I’d lost too many meals to sudden RPG attacks in hostile environments. Bastards liked to hit at chow time.

“Tell me about Ches’s kids,” Caro said suddenly.

I couldn’t help smiling, just thinking about them.

“They’re great. They call me ‘Uncle Seb’ … well, Simone, the youngest one, she calls me ‘Zed’ because she still gets her words mixed up sometimes. She’s nearly three. Ben is four and he’s a little surf-rat already. I see them as often as I can, but every time they seem so much more grown up. Jeez, they grow fast.”

“What’s Amy like?”

“Yeah, she’s okay.”

Caro looked amused at my lukewarm response.

“Let me guess—she doesn’t approve of you?”

Well, no…

“What made you say that?”

Caro smiled.

“Firstly, because you’re single, and married women get nervous that their husband’s single friends will lead them astray; secondly, because, from the sound of it, you’ve had more women than most men have hot dinners, and that will make her nervous because she won’t want you reminding Ches of what he’s missing out on; and…”

She stopped mid sentence. I guessed that whatever she was leaving unsaid was even worse.

“And what?”

“Well, the drinking, Sebastian. She wouldn’t want that around her husband and kids.”

Her words hit a nerve.

“Yeah, I guess that about sums it up.”

“When did you start drinking?” she asked gently.

My temper fired quickly. “What do you mean? I don’t drink that much, not like that bitch mother of mine.”