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Chapter One
As the rented SUV swerved on the dusty, potholed driveway of the Mancini place and she over-corrected, Brittany Lloyd bit back a curse.
Her average driving skills had little to do with the state of the road or the unwelcome memories assailing her and everything to do with the naked man bent over a thresher.
Semi-naked, technically, as her gaze riveted to the tantalising expanse of bronze, broad back glistening in the scorching Queensland sun. The muscles shifted and bunched as he straightened, and thrust his hands into the back pockets of ripped, faded denim, and as her greedy gaze strayed to his butt, she wished she hadn't stayed away so long.
Ten years in London had been a sane choice, a safe choice, considering what she'd been running from, but seeing this hot guy on her first morning back home reinforced no place on earth bred guys like Jacaranda.
She should know. She'd fallen in love with one, had given him her heart, her virginity, and her loyalty.
More fool her.
As her car approached, the guy turned and this time, the SUV sheered straight off the driveway and into a ditch.
The engine stalled, spluttered, and died as her white-knuckled hands gripped the steering wheel, shock slamming into her, leaving her powerless to do anything but watch him approach.
Not a flicker of emotion crossed Nick Mancini's face as he reached the car, rested tanned, toned forearms on the open driver’s side window, and gave a casual nod.
'Hey, Britt. Long time no see.' A casual greeting without rancour or bitterness.
Then again, she'd been the one left to pick up the pieces when he ended their relationship.
The lack of emotion in his greeting didn't do justice to what they'd shared, what they'd given up, and she'd be damned if she showed him anything other than the same lackadaisical nonchalance despite her jack-hammering heart and clammy hands.
‘If you call ten years give or take a long time.’ She wanted him to acknowledge the time they'd spent apart, wanted him to ask how she'd been, wanted him to finally explain why he'd opted out.
Instead, he shrugged, and her gaze drifted to those muscles, all too aware of how he'd filled out in the last decade. He'd been lean rather than muscular back then, and now… She wrenched her gaze away from his impressive pecs and focussed on his face.
Nick the teenager had been a good-looking, cocky, rebel.
Nick the man was drop-dead gorgeous in a rough-around-the-edges way, still cocky, and, if she read him right, still out to prove to the world he didn't give a damn.
By the smug grin lifting the corners of an all too kissable mouth, she'd read him right.
'What brings you to this neck of the woods?’
'Business.'
Something solid, tangible, and guaranteed to keep errant emotions at bay no matter how much she wanted to ask him 'what the hell happened to us'?
She'd hoped to avoid him, had hoped to do business with his father, but she'd been a fool. This place was in Nick's veins, of course he'd be here doing a hard day's work, working longer and tougher and harder than all his employees.
'Business, huh?' His toffee eyes narrowed and she wished he'd stop staring at her as if she had a dirt smudge on her nose. He'd always had the ability to see into her soul and right now that was the last thing she needed. She needed to stay focused.
Her promotion depended on it.
'I've got a proposition for you,’ she said.
He straightened, all six feet two of lean, hard muscle, and smiled that bad-boy smile she remembered so well, the smile that had haunted her for months when she'd first arrived in London, pining for her first love—the same love who had turned down her offer to come with her, to build a life together.
'I bet you have, Red.'
He opened the car door and she stepped out, wishing she could hide her blush, knowing it would do nothing for her freckles and hating herself for caring so damn much.
'No one has called me that in years,' she muttered, thankful her hair bore more coppery-blonde streaks these days than the fire-engine red she'd grown up with.
'That's a shame.' He reached out and twisted a stray strand around his finger. 'They obviously don't know you as well as I do.'
