In truth, Serina had no interest in getting married again. Or even in dating.
But Allie and Emma didn’t believe her.
‘For pity’s sake, Serina,’ Allie snapped. ‘Will you stop staring at that darned phone and just answer it!’
Serina winced as she swept up her phone from where it was vibrating all over her desktop.
‘Hello?’ she croaked out.
‘Serina? Is that you?’
It was Nicolas. His voice was extremely memorable, being rich and deep and as smooth as melted chocolate.
Serina cleared the lump in her throat. ‘Yes, yes, it’s me, Nicolas,’ she went on, hopefully sounding more like the calm, confident woman she usually was around the office. ‘So where are you?’
‘In Port Macquarie.’
‘Oh. You flew, then. So where are you staying?’
‘The Blue Horizon Apartments.’
The newest and most luxurious in Port. Trust Nicolas to choose the best. That segment she’d seen on TV had been filmed in his New York apartment, which was like a show home and probably worth millions.
‘Did you have a good flight from London?’ she said, well aware of Allie and Emma listening in.
‘Great. I slept all the way.’
Which was more than could be said for herself last night.
‘I always take a sleeping tablet on overnight flights,’ he added. ‘And I travel first class, which helps.’
‘I’m sure it does.’
Serina grimaced. Did that sound waspish? She hoped it didn’t, because that betrayed emotion and she was determined to remain cool around Nicolas. On the surface, anyway. She’d vowed during the long hours she’d lain awake last night that she was not going to let him get to her in any way.
But that was last night and this was now. Serina had an awful feeling that any vows she’d made where Nicolas was concerned would not stand up once they were face-to-face. Bad enough just talking to him. Her heartbeat had already doubled and her hand—the one clutching the phone—felt decidedly clammy.
Of course it was hot today. The forecast was for thirty-six degrees. But their office was air-conditioned. There was no reason for her to have sweaty palms.
‘Have you hired yourself a car?’ she inquired. Please don’t let him say that he hasn’t. The last thing she wanted was to have to chauffeur Nicolas around.
‘Of course,’ he said rather drily. ‘But I learned my lesson from last time and rented an SUV.’
‘What do you mean, last time?’
‘When I came home for Mum’s funeral I hired a sports car.’
‘Oh, yes, I remember,’ she said. All the girls in town—and the boys—had practically salivated over the yellow sporty number parked outside the church that day. Greg had made some caustic remark. Serina had done the wise thing and ignored it.
‘I presume the potholes on Rocky Creek Road are still as bad as ever,’ Nicolas said.
‘I’m afraid so,’ she replied.
‘Port’s changed a lot.’
‘Well, it has been a long time, Nicolas. Everything changes with time.’
‘Some things not for the better,’ he said rather brusquely. ‘Now, as soon as I shower and change, I’ll drive out to Rocky Creek and you can show me when and where I have to go tomorrow. Then I thought I’d take you to lunch.’
‘Lunch?’ she practically squawked before she could think better of it. A nervous glance over at Allie and Emma showed them both nodding vigorously. To refuse would have seemed not only inhospitable, but also worthy of suspicion.
‘Is there some reason why you can’t do that?’ he was already saying.
‘Well I…I’m at work at the moment,’ she hedged.
‘Ah, still the demands of the family business. But surely you’re the boss by now. Or did your father eventually recover from his stroke?’
Serina swallowed. ‘No, no, Dad never recovered. He…um…passed away a couple of years back. Another stroke.’
‘I’m so sorry, Serina,’ he said softly. ‘I know how much you loved him. How’s your mum coping?’
Serina blinked at this surprising sensitivity from Nicolas. So different from the last time they’d spoken. At his own mother’s wake, he’d been full of bitterness and anger. There’d not been one shred of understanding, or forgiveness. Maybe she was wrong about why he’d come back. Maybe he had grown mellow with age. Maybe he was well and truly over what she’d done to him all those years ago.
She hoped so. She really did.
‘I think Mum was almost relieved when Dad died,’ she told him. ‘His quality of life was never good. He couldn’t speak, you know, or walk. Therapy didn’t work. The damage to his brain was too great.’