 
The One She Needs

Smashwords Edition 2016

Copyright © T.D. Laurent

ISBN 978-0-9942358-3-1

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. This publication is copyright. Other than for the purposes and subject to the conditions prescribed under the Copyright Act, no part of this publication may in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Inquiries should be addressed to the author.

Cover Design: HangLe 

# Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EPILOGUE

# CHAPTER ONE

The summers in Australia were gloriously long. Even as the season drew to an end, the days still sweltered on, melding together so the subtle changes were never really noticed; the sun oblivious, happy to put on its show well into autumn. Ella watched as tourists and workers alike scattered, the workday at last finished. Camera-happy sightseers mingled with bankers and accountants, shop girls and street buskers, all striding with purpose through the open, cobbled mall—somewhere else to go, somewhere else to be. Ella sighed contentedly; people watching was her thing, so this time of day was like gold. All she needed was a coffee to see her through another hour or two before she headed home. Sinking into a chair at an outside table, Ella propped her bag on the seat next to her and fished out a large leather-bound notebook. Yes, she had a laptop, and yes, she knew how to use it. But she also had a weird little obsession with ink and paper products. Perhaps considered unusual for a Gen Y'er like herself, but nevertheless, books, cards, stationery, typography, prints, you name it, she loved it. So the act of writing, putting an actual pen to paper, was as good as it got. She would type it all up later.

Thirsty patrons lined the split-level bar behind her, taking in the view of a city at sunset, some standing, most sitting wherever they could secure a chair or stool. Ella liked this place; it reminded her of somewhere else, somewhere familiar, so she kept coming back. It offered the best espressos in town by day, and at five-thirty sharp it morphed into a late-night den, sating the discerning needs of thirsty locals. Apparently new on the scene, it was the hottest place to be, and Friday nights were always busy. The small converted room would be filled to capacity within the hour, spilling out onto the roped-off paving where she sat. The music would be amped up; voices would grow louder to be heard over the din, and not too long after that, it would be time for Ella to exit; leaving the hoards of twenty-to-thirty-somethings to welcome in the weekend groove.

#

She was relatively new in town, as she had only been here for three weeks. Perth was the farthest Australian city that most Americans like her ventured to. Out of all the places she had stayed in this country over the past five months, she was finding the West Coast most like home, which made it both easier and harder. She missed her brother, and she missed San Diego. Her storybook childhood had been measured in sunny days and trips to the beach, loving parents who doted, a sibling who actually liked his kid sister, a cat, a goldfish, and good friends. Ella grew up smack-bang in the middle of the suburban dream. The memories were imprinted in her brain forever, preserved in a perfect bubble, and made her smile. But like most stories, this one too had to end, although not as anyone would have predicted. It was sudden and unexpected—the lives of her parents snuffed out the instant their car veered off the road. A rock... a tree... the car flipped twice, before eventually coming to rest on its roof. That was according to the investigation that followed. Details... details... Ella didn't care; she didn't want to hear them, didn't want to know. Details meant nothing to her. There was a terrible accident, and now her parents were gone, and that was that... gone forever... dead. How they came to be taken from her was irrelevant. Her life changed, and her fairy tale became a nightmare overnight—her loss and grief immeasurable.

#

That was thirteen years ago, and those memories too are embedded into her brain. Knowing they are there and that she endured a pain so great, serves to remind her that she is strong. Her big brother, Kit, who is about as overprotective as he is overbearing, is her single and solitary family member, and still living at their family home in San Diego. Kit turned into a man very quickly after the accident of their parents. Besides a period of the typical craziness that is considered normal for most adolescent males, buddies, beer and girls anyone? Not that he was ever truly the footloose or irresponsible type at heart, but when their world came to a crashing halt, the somewhat amusing single-mindedness of the boy became the steely conviction of the man. With a teenage sister falling apart, and having to step up and run their family business, a local holiday park, Kit simply went into overdrive.

#

Ella paused, absently biting on the end of her favorite pen; it had belonged to her mother, and the one thing she carried with her at all times. Refocusing, she shuffled the handful of pages and read over her notes, her great looping handwriting filling the blank space, detailing everything around her that caught her eye: the shops, the people, the buildings. She had been doing travel pieces for a variety of magazines back home, work that was not only gaining her valuable experience, but also helping to finance her jaunt abroad. She was a journalist, graduating from university in one piece and with honors. Her own trip into adolescence following her parents' passing, although bumpy and fraught with close calls, had, nevertheless, been survived much to Kit's relief. She had helped at their holiday park for a couple of years, just as Kit's sidekick and gofer more than anything, in between various stints with local papers. But after a few summers, Ella realised she couldn't commit to either career path with any heartfelt conviction. When you lose someone close, you learn quickly just how precious life is, and so, you yearn to live it well. That yearn became all-encompassing. A desk job at the local paper no longer held her interest, and while running the business with Kit was always an option, and nice to fall back on, he didn't really need her. A one-man force of nature, he had plans so big they made Ella's head spin. Freelancing in the meantime was her savior, as it gave her the green light she needed to support herself and be free to spread her wings and breathe different air for a while. She needed to be sure of her place in this world and where she belonged. Ella was determined to make the most of the precious life that she was lucky enough to have.

#

So, here she was. Australia wasn't that foreign to her; a couple of bronzed Aussies had crossed her path in San Diego years before. She and Kit had watched old reruns of Crocodile Dundee with their new friends, learned to say 'G'day Mate' with the appropriate twang, which made all the difference, and ate prawns—not shrimp—hot off the porch barbecue just for the novelty of it. Thinking back, it was no surprise that she would end up Down Under. Sydney had been her first stop, an obvious choice. To a large part of the world's population, Sydney was Australia, and it lived up to its big-city hype and glamor. She spent four weeks there and hated to leave. Second was Darwin, the closest she had come to the cliched Aussie icons. You didn't have to venture far from the cityscape to smell the eucalypts and know you were within a cooee of Mick Dundee country. Melbourne was next, lower down on the east coast. Dark and moody to Perth's lightness, Melbourne was cold, old and wise; an edgy bustling metropolis with a penchant for sporting activities. Then came Adelaide, where her stay was brief but didn't disappoint. Known as the city of churches, Adelaide was laid-back without an ounce of pretention, and a wonderful wine region only an hour's drive away, making it tough to resist. There were still Brisbane, Hobart, and Canberra to conquer, and although reluctant to leave them out, Kit asked her every week when they Skyped just exactly when it was that she would be coming home. He had yet to push the point, so Ella was still considering her options.

#

Looking between the constantly moving bodies, Mitch Carrington, the owner of The Establishment, was usually far too distracted by the running of his busy bar to notice any particular individuals, unless he happened to be barking orders at them. Running a tight ship was a prerequisite to success, and sanity, as far as he was concerned. This was his sixth wine bar across the country and, to date, this approach had never let him down. But right now, he was distracted; his attention diverted in a major way by the dark-haired girl sitting alone at an outside table. Noticing a beautiful woman was in itself not a surprise; he was a man, and therefore, genetically wired to notice these things. However, this was different. She was different. Oddly familiar and yet he couldn't place her. Mitch ran a mental tally; there were a number of noteworthy brunettes all stored there for prosperity, but... no, not this one. He watched intently, his eyes narrowing when she turned her face toward Laura, his manager, as she approached to clear. Right then, in that instant, Mitch knew. It had to be her, the surety of it stirring deep in the pit of his stomach. "That girl, has she been here before?" he quizzed Laura when she returned.

Elbowing him aside first so she could place down her heavy tray of dirty dishes, Laura followed his gaze, zigzagging through the crowd before locating the target. "Oh... the pretty brunette," she teased, not surprised in the least. Although admittedly her boss spent more time fighting off enthusiastic pretty things than pursuing them. "I think so; why?"

Mitch shrugged, "No reason." He wiped the bench absently, his eyes still riveted to the far reaches of the bar. Finally giving in, he threw the wet rag into the sink and wiped his hands on the back of his J Brand denims. "Grab me a bottle from the cellar, will you?"

Amused by her boss's behavior, Laura cast a smile in his direction before doing as she was asked and headed to the cellar. "Anything in particular?" she queried over her shoulder.

"Something good," he called after her, before making like a waiter. Mitch grabbed a tray and two glasses. Thanking Laura on her return, he added the bottle, balanced the lot like a pro, and made his way across the room.

#

Ella blinked in surprise, first at the proffered tray and then at the man offering it. "Sorry," she smiled. "Wrong table, I didn't order anything."

"On the house," the man replied, setting the tray down without hesitation. Ella looked up, frowning, taken aback by the intrusion. Australian men did have a reputation for being confident; a fact she'd had both the pleasure and pain of experiencing throughout her journey. Nevertheless, right now she was intending to head back to her apartment and make something of these notes while she still had caffeine coursing through her veins. Quaffing down vino with friendly locals was not on her agenda, no matter how damn cute they were. With only a cursory glance, Ella had appraised and scored; he was an easy ten, no doubt about it. However, tonight was not going to be his night, or sadly, hers.

"Another time perhaps," she answered, attempting to gather her belongings at the same time. Journal stowed, bag zipped, Ella moved to stand. "But thank you," she added as an afterthought, softening the blow. A man who looked this good and with excellent taste in wines, the Shiraz sitting open between them not going unnoticed, was probably unaccustomed to being turned down. Never mind. She was confident he would do very well at any other table, and her rejection would soon be a distant memory.

"Ella? Ella Jackson?"

Err... Ella stalled in her tracks. Did he just say what she thought he said? These days it was odd to hear her name called out loud. She stared at the stranger more closely. "Do I know you?"

Apparently pleased with himself and his deduction, he pulled out a chair and sat down. Leaning back, he hooked his hands loosely behind his head making himself at home, content to wait while she worked it out. Ella licked her lips; his cheshire grin had her on guard, her own fight or flight instincts kicking in. Somewhere in her subconscious, a melodic ringing was growing louder, mounting with each turn of the cogs. She wished the lights out here were brighter, less moody. Her eyes trained on the subject in front of her, she noted the dark hair, the golden tan, the large but lean muscled frame, chiseled features—unmarred but for the small scar above the left eye.

Oh! The scar—–those eyes.

Alarm bells!

# CHAPTER TWO

Ella's heartbeat pounded in her ears, the sound reverberating throughout her entire body. The air in her lungs sucked up in a silent gasp. Could it really be him?

"Mitch?"

The handsome face lit up, clearly pleased that she had worked it out, answering her question at the same time. Mitch nodded slowly, not missing the fact that this old acquaintance didn't appear quite as enamored as he was with their chance encounter.

"It's been. . . ." Mitch hesitated, his own enthusiasm waning as he recalled the last time he'd seen her. Perhaps he should have thought this through a little more.

"Years. It's been years." Ella filled in the awkward gap, as much for him as for herself. Mitch's parting all those years ago had not been particularly pretty. Ella willed her heart rate to slow down so she could think straight. Mitch Carrington... How she had not recognised him straight away, she didn't know. Everything about the man, the good and the bad, was seriously unforgettable.

She remembered being young and naïve, and completely head over heels with this boy, because that was what he had been then—a boy. Traveling the States and happening across the two siblings in San Diego. Easygoing with a big heart and just a little bit dangerous, Mitch Carrington was like Friday night fireworks every night of the week. He made their world brighter; for a while anyway. How fanciful and foolish, Ella realised soon enough. The bronzed Aussie of her summers, well, half of the duo, to cross her path again all these years later may have been something she had dreamed of once upon a time. But it was not something she ever expected to happen.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Ella realised she was still standing, rooted to the spot—unsure if she should sit or run. The boy had clearly grown into a man, and although she hated to admit it, it suited him very nicely indeed. He had filled out, the tall athletic frame that had been muscled but slight, was now stronger somehow, taut and streamlined under the navy cotton shirt. His dark wavy hair worn longer in his youth was now shorter, cut in a way that there was just enough length to run your fingers through it. The handsome face and chiseled jaw, although the same, were now more defined, the boyish charm gone and replaced by a more masculine profile.

"Satisfied?" Mitch interjected, his brow, the one with the scar along it, raised in amusement.

Embarrassed, Ella found her poker face and plastered it on. "Still shocked," she replied honestly. "I thought you would be in Sydney if anywhere." That's where he'd said he was from. She had always presumed that's where he had returned to after leaving them.

"I head back there now and then, but I'm mostly based here," he waved his arm in the general direction of the bar, "making sure this place runs smoothly."

Ella gave up and sat down again; she had no intention of staying, but she couldn't very well stand there gaping for the entire conversation. They were grown-ups now, best she acted like one; besides, she was worried her legs might give way from under her if she didn't sit.

"The Establishment is yours?" Maybe that's why it felt familiar. Ella took a more studied look at the space. It wasn't Bar 1, the venue her brother and Mitch had owned together all those years ago, but it did have a similar vibe, only much more sophisticated. She pondered vaguely where she might find the second-best coffees in town after tonight.

"And you?" Mitch prodded, shifting the conversation.

"Me?" Ella heaved a sigh, still coming to grips with this entire encounter. She shook her head, as if to clear her thoughts, fingering the latch on her bag absently. "I'm a journalist."

"Congratulations, that's great. What you wanted, right?"

She nodded, "I think so. It's what I'm doing for the moment anyway. Travel pieces for back home."

Mitch seemed genuinely pleased for her. "I'm happy for you that it worked out."

Ella squirmed, fighting the sense of déjà vu that was beginning to wash over her. He knew her; he knew her history and her dreams. She had made friends during her travels, but she hadn't stayed anywhere long enough for anyone to get close. Talking to Mitch was starting to feel... comfortable. Ella dug deep, refusing to be lulled; she knew his history just as well. It was time to retreat. She stood abruptly for the second time that evening, looping the strap of her bag over her shoulder, the satchel resting in front of her like a shield.

"I really do have to go. I've got work to do tonight. It's been... err... nice... nice to see you, Mitch. I'm glad it all worked out for you in the end as well."

He flinched; they both knew what she meant. Getting up from his chair, he towered over her. "Sure thing, I understand. How long are you in town for?"

Ella took a step back instinctively. "I... I'm not sure, a week, maybe two," she mumbled vaguely.

That didn't give him long, Mitch thought quickly. "So you're staying local?"

Ella nodded in the general direction. "On King Street..." she stopped herself short, not offering up any more.

"King Street's close. We should try again for a drink–or dinner? Before you leave."

Ella blushed; she should have seen that coming. "Err... maybe," she shrugged, without committing. "I'm really busy, tight schedule," she tried vainly to justify.

Mitch's head cocked to the side, reading her. Something he had always been able to do. He was fully aware that he was going to have to find a way to make these plans stick if he ever wanted to see Ella Jackson again, which he did. That's if she weren't on a plane out of there tomorrow the way she was backtracking. He handed her his card. "I remember traveling alone, Ella... it can get kind of lonely. It's just a catch-up, nothing to be scared of. I won't bite."

Without looking at him, she took his card and slid it into the pocket of her black skinny jeans. "I said I was busy, Mitch, not scared," she replied coolly.

Mitch's eyes sparked. Yes, he remembered this Ella—never one to back down from a challenge. He bit down on his grin, and his retort. She couldn't step away without bumping into neighboring chairs; it would be a waste not to use it to his advantage. As he leaned forward, Mitch's lips grazed her cheek, his voice close to her ear. "If that's truly the case, then I expect you can free up an evening soon, Ella."

Ella's senses were in a spin. She saw a gap between two chairs open up as the girls on the next table vacated. Seizing her moment, Ella made her move. "I have to go..."

She didn't look back.

#

Damn it, Mitch cursed under his breath as he watched her all but run away. Was he that bad? He reminded himself that she didn't know the truth—any of it. He had to remember that. Back in San Diego when they first met, Ella had been just a girl. Young, sweet and a bit messed up—and strictly off limits. But that was then. Ella Jackson was clearly her own woman now, grown up and more alluring than ever.

Picking up the tray still laden with his offering, one that had been blatantly snubbed, he offered it to the rapturous couple who were busy flirting up a storm on the next table.

"On the house," he smiled absently, setting it down. It was a fine bottle of wine; someone may as well enjoy it. The couple released each other for a few seconds to convey their appreciation. Freed up, Mitch made straight for his office, currently housed in one of the larger rooms directly above the bar. Upstairs was starting to take shape. He was extending the venue, opening an exclusive dining area which he hoped would be ready in a couple of weeks. His office and living quarters would also receive a major overhaul, with the space converted into a small apartment for his personal use. It was all he needed given the limited amount of time he would actually be in it. After doing the bar scene for the last god knows how many years, Mitch preferred to get away from it whenever he wasn't needed. He had a place down the coast, a hidden oasis set among the trees overlooking the ocean. It didn't get much better. That said, if Miss Jackson was in town, he might just hang out here for the week and see if she took him up on his challenge. If she didn't, he'd already decided he would have to come up with a Plan B.

Mitch poured himself a drink, straight up. He was not a particularly patient man; if he wanted something, he went after it, that's just how it was. This time, however, Mitch knew he would have to tread more cautiously. If tonight's meeting was anything to go by, it was clear Ella Jackson was not going to be a willing conquest. 

# CHAPTER THREE

The distant thundering of waves crashing on the shoreline carried through the air, mingling with the low rhythmic beat emitting from the docking station. Candles flickered, casting shadows across the yet-to-be-adorned plain white walls; the flames caressed by a gentle breeze that flowed straight off the ocean and through the open doors of the beachfront apartment. Ella stood in the middle of it all, her near-naked body glistening, ethereal in the shadowed light. She didn't move, her breath shallow, echoing the steady pounding from inside her chest. Her senses honed, every nerve standing to attention, transfixed and focused on the man standing before her. She wanted him in all the ways she had imagined, and willed him to take her in his arms right there—right then.

His touch broke the spell at last, cool hands against the warmth of her flushed skin sending shivers up and down her entire body. Torturously slow, he took his sweet time tracing an invisible path over each and every curve, his fingers grazing over nipples, teasing gently before trailing further. Ella bit down on her lip as rough fingers skimmed the flat planes of her stomach and hips and skirted the delicate edges of her panty line. He toyed with the band, before unceremoniously pinging the elastic in a not-so-gentle fashion against the rise of her butt, the sting of it against her skin making her gasp. Ella's eyes flew open to find him staring back, his lids heavy and framing liquid gold pools, the intention in their depths clear. She leaned into him; her body coiled tighter than a spring begging for release. Her hips, with a dirty little mind of their own, thrust forward; her hands rejoicing at the ripple of hard muscle under her touch. Ella groaned with longing; if it weren't already clear, she was ready and willing. Removing all doubt, she placed her hand over his and pushed it down between her thighs. It was all Mitch needed. Permission granted, he unleashed the rein he had been holding on himself, his urgency taking her breath away. His hands tore effortlessly at the delicate band of lace that held her knickers together, her last veil of modesty falling in shreds to the floor. He pushed her back until her naked butt nudged against the headrest of the dark leather lounge, then, parting her legs, he lifted her with ease. Face to face, her legs wrapped snugly around him, their connection almost complete, Ella's body shuddered with the anticipation—both knowing without an ounce of doubt that this next step would take them into new territory.

There were going to be fireworks tonight.

#

Ella shivered. The arms that should have held her were suddenly gone, leaving her cold. Her body ached, needy and desperate for his touch. She reached out into the darkness, her hands flailing at the nothingness, her fingers closing around the dark empty space. Where did he go? Her moving pictures had vanished and Mitch along with them. Somewhere in the depths of her all-wise and knowing subconscious, Ella realised the reality.

You're dreaming, sweetheart.

#

She opened her eyes and rolled over, her sleep-hazed brain taking a moment to put all the pieces together. "Argh!" Ella groaned, burying her face into the pillow. "Not fair!" She lay still for a moment longer, letting the last wisps of her delusional fantasy evaporate and fade away, and cold hard reality settle firmly back in. She would be lying if she didn't admit she was ticked off. Although she couldn't figure out whether it was because she'd had the dream about Mitch in the first place, or that it hadn't happened for real. Rolling onto her back, Ella dragged herself up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. It was still quite dark, the faint tinge of light illuminating the edges of her drawn blinds the only clue that it was, in fact, morning... only early. A quick glance at the clock confirmed that fact. It had just turned 6:00 a.m. She groaned out loud again; it was a full hour earlier than she would have liked. She had worked hard and late the night before, first and foremost to complete her article, and at a close second, to keep herself from thinking about the encounter with Mitch. Falling into bed exhausted at almost half past one, she thought she had achieved both objectives—yet, apparently not. Somehow, the tall and annoyingly handsome Mr. Carrington had wormed his way into her bedroom and into her dreams. There was no point in trying to get back to sleep, so Ella decided she may as well start her day early. Locating her discarded running gear strung over a chair in the corner of her room, she scooped them up and made for the bathroom. Ten minutes later after donning runners, sunglasses, and a cap, she was on her way out the door.

#

Ella had learned quickly how to make like a local in this town; they were the outdoorsy type. That fact no more obvious than on an early-morning run around the river, the great body of water they called The Swan which sat on the doorstep of the city. Even at this hour, there was a fair representation of the population up and about: joggers, cyclists, and rowers, all powering into their day. Ella fell into place with them in a slow jog, finding her rhythm, and passing fishermen huddled onto the limestone edges with handlines and buckets waiting patiently for a bite. Farther afield on the grassed parks that hugged the concrete pathways, she saw clusters of people partaking in both tai chi and yoga. The way they moved, so graceful and in sync—their daily commitment to calmness and peace of mind—and a toned body, was a contrast against the backdrop of a waking city that made her smile. Staying this close to the action meant that Ella had no excuse, so now this was also part of her routine, but not usually quite so early. The beauty of being a freelance writer was that she didn't have to be up and on her way to an office at any designated hour. As a rule, she preferred to ease into her day, her body's natural clock primed for a more civilised hour, like say... 7:00am, and preferably closely followed up with a good strong coffee.

#

Ella rounded the corner concentrating on her steps, picking up the pace as she crossed over one of the bridges that would take her to the other side, creating a large oval-like track around the water's edge. She was beginning to feel a little guilty about fobbing Mitch off the night before. She re-ran their conversation through her head. She hadn't said anything particularly untoward, but then she hadn't exactly rolled out the red carpet either. Ella remembered how different it was the first time they met. Kit and his new Aussie friend had bonded over beers at a local hangout, and from that point on, the two had been inseparable. Her brother let him have a van on-site in return for some manual labour. Mitch could do almost anything, and what he couldn't do, he learned quickly. He was the helping hand her brother needed and a welcome distraction for them both. Mitch was not your typical struggling traveling hobo. Well-schooled, intelligent, and apparently cashed up, he just wanted to live local with a place to crash, so no cash was ever exchanged. Their amicable arrangement suited both parties. Mitch didn't talk too much about himself, seeming to be abroad purely for the experience, testing his toes in whatever came his way to see what he was capable of or simply for fun. The new friends found they had another thing in common, something that bonded them even more—a drive to succeed. Entrepreneurial blood flowed thickly through their veins. It was inevitable the two would go into business. Their first venture, Bar 1, became an instant hit with the younger barely-legal crowd. Ella, who was lucky enough to know the owners, was a regular at the newest and coolest place this side of town. Dragging her besties past the long lines and through the doors without so much as a bat of her megawatt lashes was a bonus. It was perhaps not the ideal hangout for her, but Kit wanted to keep an eye on his kid sister, and so he allowed it. If she were ever going to go off the rails, at least he would be there to stop her, which he did—often.

#

The next undertaking of the two friends was in real estate. Selling off the bar after only twelve months, they made enough to put down a hefty deposit on a small run-down apartment block on the coast. There were only four dwellings in the complex, all brick and dilapidated cladding, peeling paint, rusted gutters, and crappy plumbing. Ella remembered helping when she wasn't at classes, dressed in little more than shorts and a bikini top. Hot summer days were spent sweating it out in the sauna-like rooms, scraping away years of paint and god-awful wallpaper in the hope of turning a profit. It was not only about the money; not one of them was driven by money alone. They did it just to see if they could, and then, just because they could. It bound them and kept them busy. Kit and Ella parentless, and Mitch... well... he never said a lot about his family, only the fact that they weren't close, which was about as much of a clue as they needed to get the picture.

#

Ella had secretly been besotted with Mitch right from the start. How could she help it? He was not only mysterious and gorgeous; he was wild and free, a magnet if ever there was one—particularly to an impressionable eighteen-year-old. But more than that, she trusted Mitch. He listened when she needed to talk, and he made her laugh. Mitch made her feel safe; in his company, she felt less—adrift. She recalled they had been almost half way through the apartment renovations when Cassidy came into the picture. Also from Australia, she came from somewhere along the east coast; blonde and blue-eyed, she had turned both boys' heads, along with every hot-blooded male in the vicinity, the moment she came knocking on their door in answer to their advertisement. They were gearing up for the busy summer period, and it had always been a tradition to employ backpackers to help with the load for a few months.

Cassidy, as it turned out, was a traveling hobo and desperately needed the job. Good at a lot of things but trained at nothing in particular, our job description for the upcoming busy summer season was a custom fit for her skill set. Casual admin, casual cleaner, casual store person; it took all of three seconds for Kit to hire her. She scored the on-site van reserved for temporary employees, and Mitch moved into the complex on the beach, happy enough to live among the chaos while the overhaul continued. Ella had held reservations about Cassidy. The slightly older girl was quiet and kept to herself, which seemed at odds with how she looked and the fact that she was brave enough to travel to the other side of the world alone. They did, however, eventually become friends, Ella warming to her stunning new companion once she hooked up with her brother. Being in love brought out an unseen side to Kit; Cassidy was good for him, and she made him lighter somehow. Ella watched her brother for the first time in what felt like forever slow down and concentrate on something else besides work, which conveniently left Mitch alone for her.

#

Ella pulled up and slowed to a walk, her breath ragged, her heart pounding with the exertion. Standing tall, she wiped the sweat from her brow and scanned the grounds for a water fountain. The past was a funny thing; it made her insides ache, both with longing and loathing. She was suddenly glad she was on the home bend because this run wasn't clearing her head the way it was supposed to. 

# CHAPTER FOUR

Ella had turned her apartment upside down; she couldn't find her mother's pen. She'd emptied her satchel, its contents strewn across the dining table, pockets and jackets turned inside out. She had looked under the bed, under the table, in the bedside drawer, and even in between the square cushions of the lounge. Her frantic efforts produced nothing; that is except for a twenty-dollar note stuck in the bottom of a pocket she didn't know she had, and one black business card—The Establishment embossed across its matte surface.

#

Ella stared at the card; this was where she last used her mother's pen. It was dark when she'd packed up. Sidetracked by the surprise visitor arriving at her table, it wasn't inconceivable that she had missed it in her fluster. Or it could just as easily have rolled off the table. Either way, at this point The Establishment appeared to be her best chance of finding it. Ella picked up the card, turning it over in her hands. It was Mitch's private card; his name discreetly printed tone-on-tone in the top left corner. Any other pen and she wouldn't bother to look for it—any other venue and it wouldn't bother her to call. She sighed; fate was toying with her, and she didn't have a choice.

#

"Hello, Establishment, Laura speaking."

"Err... Hi." Ella had phoned the number on the card presuming Mitch would answer. The sound of a woman's voice at the end of the line surprised her.

"How can I help?" the girl prompted.

"I was there last night at an outside table, and I think I've left my pen there. It's very special to me. I was hoping someone might have handed it in or..." Her voice trailed off, not wanting to think about the alternative. She had been left a ton of stuff by her parents. As the only remaining family, both she and Kit had been willed the entire estate. This not only included the holiday park and the huge block of land it sat on, but also their family home which adjoined it, and every single item contained in them both: plates and utensils, bikes and mowers, tools, tables, and about one-hundred-and-one potted plants, belonged to them. Their parents relished practical things; every one of those items had a reason for being, except this pen. Aside from her wedding band, it was about the only fanciful item Ella could recall her mother owning; finely-etched black and gold, it had been a gift from her own parents eons earlier. Her mom had loved this single shiny treasure, as did Ella.

"As a matter of fact, yes, a pen was found last night when we packed away..." The girl's voice faded in and out as she moved, looking for the object in question, the phone still pressed to her ear. "This is Ella, isn't it?" she asked, almost as an afterthought.

"Yes?" Ella answered. Still finding it odd that strangers in this city on the other side of the world knew her name.

"Good. Just checking," she laughed. "Now... it was here... somewhere; I can promise you that."

Ella was relieved, not quite believing her luck. "Thank you!"

"Mitch must have it," the girl declared after her look around. "He did say you might call, and to tell you he'd bring it with him when you both caught up."

Ella's body sagged, the wind sucked out of her sails—Mitch. "I can easily just drop by and get it?" she hinted.

"No use, it's not anywhere here that I can see. Besides, he was happy to bring it to you, so you may as well leave me your details and let the man deliver it." Ella grimaced; she was saying it as if it would be a treat. Sighing out loud, she conceded defeat. "Okay," she replied into the handset, and begrudgingly relayed her contact details. She'd not decided yet if catching up with Mitch was such a good idea, but now the decision had been made for her. At least she would get her pen back, she consoled herself.

#

"You're back?"

Mitch entered in a hurry through the back door. "Yeah, busy day; had a few things to sort out with Geraldine," he threw over his shoulder distractedly.

Laura waved a scrap of paper with the mystery dark-haired girl's details penned on it like a victory flag. "I think I have something you wanted, boss."

Mitch stopped in his tracks and whistled slowly. "Ella called?"

Laura nodded triumphantly.

He reached for the scrap of paper. "Thank you, I owe you."

"You're welcome, boss," she said with a grin. "Just keep me in mind for those promotions when they come up."

Mitch plucked the torn page from her fingertips, laughing. "You got it. Enthusiasm and blackmail; just what I look for in my employees."

Laura laughed it off. "I'm your girl then," she joked good-naturedly.

#

Mitch sank into the chair at his desk, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against the solid surface. He had Ella's phone number and address; her apartment on King Street only a brisk ten-minute walk from where the bar was situated a few blocks down. He glanced at his watch; it was almost three, and he was deliberating whether it was too soon to invite her for dinner. After her reaction last night, he wasn't feeling overly confident. That said, he rationalized that finding the pen had been a stroke of luck. He recognized it straight away, seeing it on the ground when they brought the tables in at the end of the night. He knew how much it meant to Ella. To get it back, she might just be willing to endure his company. All he needed was an hour, sixty whole minutes to let her see he wasn't the snake she evidently thought he was. Mitch considered his options—he had to return her property to her anyway—so it was worth a try. Failing that, Plan B was already in motion.

#

"You're late." Ella couldn't help herself; the words spilled from her mouth the moment she opened the door. Exactly when she had become such a stickler for time she wasn't sure. It must have been nerves.

"Nice to see you, too." Mitch grinned, ignoring her outburst. "Who would have thought so soon."

Ella tried to remember her manners, reminding herself why he was on her doorstep in the first place—for her.

"Sorry. Nice to see you again. However, you are still twenty minutes late." Argh! She just couldn't help herself.

"Yes, I am, and I apologize," he acknowledged his tardiness, even managing the good grace to look contrite, "I was helping an old lady cross the road."

"Ooh!" Ella winced, ashamed of herself; he was doing a good deed—another one—and here she was complaining about a few minutes.

Mitch grinned wickedly. "I'm joking, Ella."

"Oh, real mature," she fumed and promptly shut the door in his face. No—that was real mature! What on earth was she doing?

Mitch rapped on the door. Great start genius, he reprimanded himself. "Ella, let me in."

She counted to ten... slowly, took a deep breath and composed herself before opening the door again.

The relief on Mitch's face was palpable; his brow cocked. "Take two?" he offered congenially, leaning casually against the door frame, irresistible in his fitted, white-collared shirt, black denims, and jacket. "Can I come in now?"

How could she possibly refuse? Ella stepped back and let him pass, her heart skipping a beat as he did so, his presence large and intimidating, yet oddly reassuring in its familiarity; her mind effortlessly joining the dots from long ago. She watched him. Although she didn't want to be, she was quietly impressed. Obviously, a man who was very comfortable in any surroundings. He gave her apartment a cursory once-over, before dropping the large paper bag he was carrying onto the counter top and shrugging out of his jacket. Making himself at home, he hung it loosely over the back of the dining chair before pulling up one of her tall stools and sitting down. He looked back at Ella, who was still standing in the entry. "Are you going to join me?" he questioned with a trace of a grin.

Ella shook herself from her reverie. "Yes, of course I am," she answered, mortified, and quickly made her way over to the small breakfast bar where he was sitting. She eyed the bag curiously. "What's this?"

"This is dinner."

"When you called I said I couldn't do dinner," Ella replied stubbornly.

Mitch barely glanced her way, instead continuing to unpack the contents of the bag, placing each deliberately on the table in front of them: four containers of food, cloth napkins, silver cutlery, and a bottle of wine.

Ella's stomach grumbled in response, giving her away.

His eyes sparkled with humor. "You said you didn't feel up to going out for dinner. Of course, you have to eat—its dinnertime—and so I've bought dinner to you. I don't mind eating in with you, Ella."

She bit her tongue. He'd called to confirm a time to return her pen and mentioned dinner, conveniently all rolled into one. She wasn't up to dinner—thanks but no thanks had been her automatic reply. But this did smell good. Ella shrugged, snookered again despite her best efforts. She pulled out the other stool and sat down. "Thanks, you shouldn't have."

Mitch prised open the containers one by one and offered them to her first. "Do you remember when I came over for dinner that time, and you cooked a roast chicken?"

Ella smiled softly at the memory that was coaxed back. Before yesterday, she hadn't thought about those years for some time. "I do remember," she replied, "you hadn't eaten a home-cooked meal for months, so Kit invited you to the house for dinner—roast chicken was the only decent thing I knew how to cook."

"It was great!"

Ella laughed at his generous exaggeration. "I don't know about great, Mitch, but it was edible."

He chuckled amiably. "I remember it well, and it was good, trust me."

Ella let the compliment slide. "Now, this is good food." The takeaway containers before her were chock-full of the most delicious-smelling food that had ever graced her kitchen counter. She portioned some of each onto her plate.

"This is why I was late. We are opening a kitchen upstairs soon, and these are some of the dishes the chefs are considering for the menu. I wanted to see what you thought."

Ella blushed, reminded again of their rocky start to the evening. "Sorry, I was a bit..." Her words trailed off, not really sure where they should go.

Proving to be a gentleman, he waved it off, changing the subject instead. He leaned over into the pocket of his jacket and retrieved her pen, handing it to Ella. "I believe this belongs to you."

She took it gratefully, turning the precious implement over in her hands, checking and rechecking. Yes, all in one piece. "Thank you," she replied earnestly.

Take two was going off without a hitch.

#

They ate in a companionable silence, their small talk intermittent but easy. Ella was careful not to broach any awkward topics, like the past. She didn't want to dredge up painful memories any more than they had already; recalling their history had proven to be all-encompassing these last twenty-four hours. Admittedly, she was surprised at just how easily they filled in the gaps. Her plan had been to get through the evening with as little fuss and pain as possible, and if she couldn't manage to be pleasant, to at least be civil. After all, it had been a while since she'd entertained any real company. Three weeks in Perth and she had kept pretty much to herself, preferring to concentrate on work and soak in the city from an unbiased point of view. Other than a couple of nights out with neighbors from the building, most of her conversations had been weekly Skype sessions with Kit, or small talk with shop girls and wait staff. Ella remembered she and Mitch had always enjoyed each other's company. They often sought each other out, particularly after Kit and Cassidy hooked up, but it seemed she had forgotten just how much. Far from grinning and bearing the evening, her defenses were languishing somewhere in the corner of the room while she was actually enjoying herself.

"So you're thinking about another bar in Tasmania?" Plates pushed aside and onto a second glass of red, their conversation had amped up and now focused on the safe topic of work. Mitch nodded. "More than thinking about it, it's underway. I'm heading to Hobart in the next week or so to check things out."

Ella sighed, her disposition mellowed by the wine. "I want to go to Tasmania."

Mitch knew an opportunity when he saw one. Curbing his enthusiasm, he schooled himself to sound indifferent, throwing out his offer casually. "Come along if you want, it'll just be for a few days."

Ella almost choked on her drink. She looked sideways at him. Imagine Skyping Kit... . Hi, I'm just in Tassie with Mitch; remember him, your old buddy—the one we aren't allowed to mention? Oh boy.

Her face said it all—bad idea. Mitch held up his hands, surrendering. "Okay, okay, that's a no." He grinned, taking it like a man. He would have to pace himself. Standing, he began to pack away the mess covering the counter top.

Ella put down her glass, surprised at the sudden turn in mood, and oddly disappointed that their little shindig was apparently over. Surely he didn't expect her to accept his offer? Her and her starved libido holidaying with Mitch and his testosterone-fueled ego... err... no... there could not possibly be a good outcome from that. Regardless of how charitable or innocuous his proposition may have been, surely he didn't seriously expect her to accept and travel to Tasmania with him? It wouldn't be right. He must understand that.

"You're leaving?" she stated the obvious plainly.

"I am," he smiled in her direction, "unless you want me to stay?"

Oh... no, no, no. Ella pulled a face; he was teasing her—she got that—always teasing. If only he knew. Thankfully, she'd not had that much to drink that she would succumb to his very obvious charms, regardless of how tempting it was. Holed up in her small apartment for the entire evening with a man who looked this good—had her practically aching to be touched. It had been a while. But she wasn't falling for it. No. Holding her resolution firmly in place, Ella stood and plucked his jacket from the back of the chair, holding it out to him.

He took it from her without a word and shrugged it on "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Ella replied, equally congenially. "If you change your mind you know where to find me," he said with a wink. "Uh-uh," she answered tongue-in-cheek, refusing to be baited. Suddenly needing the evening to be over, Ella moved toward the door. Thankfully, Mitch followed, stopping when she did in the small entry. She could smell his aftershave, see the rise and fall of his chest, and make out the color of his eyes, not that she didn't know that fact off by heart—they were gold. Not greenish-gold or hazel, just pure, mesmerizing gold. Ella reached for the doorknob and opened the door.

"Well... thanks again," she managed, "I don't know how I can repay you."

Mitch placed one hand on the door, effectively stalling his ejection. "It's funny you should say that... ."

Uh-oh. Ella suddenly had that sinking feeling. 

# CHAPTER FIVE

"You want me to what?" Ella needed Mitch to repeat what he'd said just so she was sure she'd heard correctly.

Mitch braced himself; while he had expected her to be surprised, it wasn't a joke. He needed Ella to agree. "I want you to interview me," he repeated seriously. "A magazine wants a story, and I told them yes but only if they use you."

Ella frowned, leaning back against the wall for support. He wasn't kidding. She knew firsthand that he was a very charismatic individual who had seemingly done well, but she was curious—what made him newsworthy? "But why do they want to do an article about you?"

Mitch ignored the blow to his ego. "Mostly about the bars; it's marketing, Ella, you know how it works. We're launching the new eatery upstairs; there's the new place in Hobart... he shrugged. "Stuff..."

Ella noted the fact that he didn't elaborate on what the other stuff might be. "What if I don't want to?" she blurted, as if that angle weren't obvious already.

He considered her protest—fleetingly. "Why wouldn't you, Ella? It would look good on your resume. They're a national magazine, and besides that, you already know me. It's easy money."

She did know Mitch; she had studied him enough, clandestinely, of course. They had seen each other almost every other day while he lived in San Diego. She knew he loved the beach and the outdoors, surfing and swimming in the ocean whenever he could. She knew he enjoyed a laugh, his smile wide with eyes that crinkled at the sides when he did. She knew he held doors open for ladies; loved a game of Aussie rules... the country's national obsession, and that once upon a time had a blue heeler puppy oddly called Red, named so for the heeler variety he was supposed to get. Which, coincidently, backed up another fact Ella knew to be true about Mitch Carrington; as easygoing as he was, he had a stubborn streak. If something were important enough to him, he wouldn't back down. So, granted there was a lot she did know; however, all that seemed inconsequential to the man Mitch was now. This grownup version was as much of an enigma to her as he apparently was to everyone else.

The question was—did she want or even care to know more? The journo in her kicked her shins. Ah. . . Yes! However, fortunately common sense was beating its drum loud and clear. It was impossible to ignore the ruckus, reminding her of all the very valid reasons why she should absolutely not take up his offer. If she didn't think a few days away in Tasmania was appropriate... or manageable with only small talk and sightseeing to withstand, how could she possibly agree to interview him? Interviewing another human being required a little more depth. It was obvious; she just needed to spit it out. Thanks, but no thanks. Four little words would do the trick. Mitch surely must have been getting used to that response from her by now anyway.

"But you don't know if I'm even any good." Perfect, destroy your own credibility.

Mitch did laugh this time. "Of course you are, Ella, that's a given. Look, the truth is, I'm not keen on random journos poking around in my life. I trust you," he shrugged, "you'd be doing me a favor." Damn, he was good at this.

"When?" she countered, "I'd planned to go down the coast in the next day or so. I have another article I need to research."

Need to, was a slight exaggeration—wanted to was perhaps closer to the truth. But it made her excuse sound more plausible. The southern west coast was supposed to be beautiful; she wanted to see it for herself, and if there was an article in it, that would be a bonus.

"Wouldn't you know it, I have a house down the coast, prime position, you'd love it."

Ella rolled her eyes. Of course, he did!

"I could do with a couple of days out of the city. We could do the interview down there." Mitch looked pleased with himself.

Ella had an inkling she was fighting a losing battle.

"How many bedrooms does your place have?" she asked pointedly.

His brows shot up in surprise, not what he was expecting. He thought for a moment, ticking the rooms off from memory. "Eight, I think."

"Eight! That's a big house."

He nodded, acknowledging the fact. It was a lot of room for one person, but he loved the house, so he bought it anyway. "Big enough for you to have all the space you need."

Ella blushed; he'd read her mind. However, for the sake of good manners, she suppressed her urge to agree out loud. If she were going to do this, it would be ridiculous to seek alternative accommodation when perfectly acceptable premises were being offered to her. That said, yes, she would require space from her host and subject, for a number of reasons—all very valid. Kit's warning echoed in her head, stay away from him. All this playing nice didn't change the facts of the past.

"What do you say?" Mitch coaxed, trying to close the deal. He'd admit he felt a twinge of guilt at the turmoil he was causing her. But on the other hand, his motive to keep her close aside, this really was a good opportunity. Too good, he hoped, for her to pass up.

"I'll get Geraldine to call you—she's the editor," he offered reasonably. "Talk to her first and give me your answer tomorrow."

It was a risk giving her space to change her mind, but Mitch was accustomed to getting his own way, so although he was impatient... he was confident.

Ella exhaled, breathing out the air she hadn't realized she was holding, her lungs deflating with relief. She nodded, grateful to be off the hook. "Okay," she said with a shrug and stuck out her hand.

Mitch looked from her proffered hand to her face, and back again, his eyes dancing with amusement. After last night, she wasn't taking any chances.

He let her win. Taking her hand in his, small between his large ones, he squeezed them gently, barely a shake in it. "Goodnight, Ella." Then, stepping away, he closed the door behind him.

#

What just happened? Ella wasn't quite sure. It took a few minutes for her to gather herself. Still dazed, she pushed herself away from the wall and walked back into the kitchen. She looked around for something to do, but there was barely a thing out of place. Mitch had come, he had fed her, tidied up after himself, returned her property, and then left. If her brain weren't doing somersaults and her knickers weren't in a knot, she could almost convince herself he hadn't been there at all... the evening, like her dream... a figment of her imagination. But Ella did know better. She loaded the meager evidence into the dishwasher: a couple of plates and glasses; wiped the counter down and pushed the stools back under the counter top. That was it—all done. She poured the last of the wine into a fresh glass and considered her options. She had intended to call her brother tonight, he would just be starting his day. An early riser, Kit would already be up and about to head from the house across to the office. She just didn't know if talking to Kit right at this exact moment would be such a good idea. Ella scoffed to herself, who was she kidding? She knew speaking to Kit right now would not be wise at all. What would she say? Picking up her glass, she headed for the bathroom, it was the safer option. She would call Kit tomorrow.

#

With the tub finally full, Ella slowed the faucets, added a dollop of vanilla bath gel, and stripped off. Leaving her mobile and glass within arm's reach next to the basin, she sank into the warm water. The bath felt good, her limbs relaxing as she floated; her mind free to wander at will and intent on dissecting the run of events. She may not have been a woman of the world, but she was no fool either; she couldn't shake the sense that she was being lured. The whole interview offer was just a tad coincidental for her liking. Ella was sure the staff at the magazine in question would be professional and quite capable of achieving his desired result; so why was Mitch insisting on her? Old acquaintances, regardless of how much he had once meant to her, was what they were—and that was it. She'd admit that although she hadn't been initially keen, Ella understood that happening across each other on the other side of the world like this, could possibly warrant a friendly catch-up. Whether to rehash old times, or in their case, to avoid them as much as possible; focusing instead on the here and now, and idle chitchat. But that would be it, especially as she practically had one foot on a plane, and they would soon be oceans apart once again. They had their meal... they had their wine... they had their catch-up talk... and her pen had been returned. All obligations accomplished. Why was he instigating more? Ella rubbed the washcloth across the back of her neck, deliberating the possible motives. He'd said she would be doing him a favor, which was completely plausible, she acknowledged. He had always been a generous person; perhaps he'd seen the opportunity when it was presented and thought of her—a simple and sincere random act of kindness. Or on the flip side, was this act of chivalry purely out of guilt for past misdemeanors?

#

Ella didn't know exactly what went down the night Mitch left all those years ago; she didn't even know for sure if he had anything to feel guilty about. But whatever did happen wasn't pretty. The fight between Mitch and Kit had been explosive, both going at it like two young bulls. By the next morning, Mitch and Cassidy had both packed up and disappeared. Ella's makeshift family, the people she had attached herself to, gone again—leaving her to deal with a silent, brooding brother. Shaking off the memory, Ella sat up and retrieved her glass from the vanity, taking a slow sip. There was, of course, one other reason for Mitch's generosity. Perhaps she had been over thinking this entire scenario; perhaps it was about as basic as it gets, the only other possibility for Mitch's persistent efforts that Ella could fathom. The instinctive, primal urge of man. She emptied her glass, smiling despite the realization. Man sees girl, man wants to have sex with girl, girl agrees, or not. Was she a guaranteed no-strings romp before her visa ran out and she was sent packing back across the Pacific? Did he think her so easy? Ella retracted the thought as quickly as it snuck out, shame on her. Mitch and her brother may have had a major falling out, and he did leave without a word, breaking her heart in the process. But he had always treated her with the utmost respect, never, ever taking advantage of her. Lord knows Ella had practically offered herself up on a plate on more than one occasion if she remembered correctly; such being the antics of a besotted eighteen-year-old girl. Mitch had remained honorable, annoyingly so. That said, now was an entirely different matter. Their banter was very real, their attraction also; no point in denying the obvious. Was a sexual encounter on the agenda? Ella liked to think of herself as a reasonably modern woman; she had experienced these encounters—albeit in limited numbers. Hot and heavy, then fizzling out before she knew it... sometimes by choice, sometimes not. She may not buy into the whole fairy tale gambit. The stories little girls, including her, are often raised on, leading them to believe the perfect Prince Charming is somewhere out there waiting with his horse and carriage to whisk them away. Personally, she wouldn't care if her prince didn't own a castle, or a horse for that matter. As long as he had eyes for only her and a good heart, and if she were talking fairy tales, she might as well be honest—it would be nice if her prince was also hot. Ella chuckled to herself; she wasn't completely cynical, she did still hope for her own hearts and flowers kind of finale. Even modern women wanted their happy ending.

#

Meanwhile, in the twenty-first-century real world, there was this little nagging issue of sex—the casual variety. The last time she partook was... . err... . Ella did some rudimentary sums on her fingertips. . . hmph... a while ago, she decided.

So if that was, in fact, Mitch's agenda, what did she think?

Her body tingled in response to the silent question. With a man like that, it wasn't hard to conjure up all the possibilities it presented. Ella sighed despondently—she knew she shouldn't go there. She let herself slip down under the water until she was completely immersed, hoping clarity would come at the porcelain bottom. She counted to ten then came back up, caught her breath, and pushed her wet hair from her face. Nope... no clear-cut answer had materialized. The job opportunity really would be a major feather in her cap; so that should be her first consideration. It would be remiss of her not to take advantage of it. If Mitch was telling the truth about it being a huge favour to him as well, then all the better—a good deed returned. She would start with that.

Drying her hands on a towel, Ella reached for her phone. If she was taking one step at a time—then today's decision had at least been made. 

# CHAPTER SIX

"It's a perfect day for flying, so I want to take you out over the coast so you can really appreciate how amazing this region is. We should arrive in about an hour."

Ella smiled at the prospect. Mitch had surprised her. She'd been expecting to drive all the way down; instead, they were at an airport and boarding a plane. He was proving to be a very accomplished host, reeling off the attractions he wanted to show her as if the entire South West was his private playground.

"How do you know so much about this area?" she asked, pulling out her notebook at the same time.

Mitch leaned over and pulled on the straps of her belt ensuring she was safely buckled in. He gave her a sidelong glance when he finished. "At least wait until we are in the air, Ella," he said with a grin.

She blushed, glancing down at her tools of trade primed at the ready. "Sorry," she shrugged, shoving them unceremoniously back into the tote at her feet.

Back in his own seat, Mitch followed suit, tightening his belt before settling back for takeoff. The small jet plane was cleared, and moments later they were in the air. "I spent a lot of time here when I was younger." He offered the information freely once the plane had leveled out.

Ella cocked her head at this tidbit; it was news to her. "But I thought you grew up in Sydney?"

He smiled tightly, his brows knitted together for a brief moment, choosing his words with care. "I went to boarding school in Sydney, and I've lived there off and on over the years."

"Ewww." Ella screwed up her nose. She couldn't think of anything worse for a child than to be shipped off to some school, away from the warmth of a family and home.

Mitch laughed half-heartedly. "It wasn't that bad. And anyway, I got to spend most of my holidays here or in the Pilbara, which made up for it."

Resisting the urge to grab out her notebook again, Ella contemplated the childhood that was so unlike hers. "The Pilbara; that's at the top of the state, isn't it, where all that red dirt is?" She had seen the image a lot, particularly around Perth. The earth was an amazing vibrant rust-red color, right out of an artist's paintbox.

He nodded. "You got it; we call it red gold."

"What is it exactly?"

"Iron ore," Mitch answered, "it's found in the soil and rocks; the world needs it, and The West has tons of the stuff. There's a hell of a lot of people getting rich off the back of it."

"You know a bit about it?" Ella quizzed.

Mitch shrugged. "I'm informed, just not overly interested."

Letting the steady hum of the engine fill the natural lull, Ella took a slow sip from her takeaway coffee, now lukewarm, watching him intently over the rim. "So... you were shipped off to Sydney, but your family stayed in Perth?"

"Uh-huh," Mitch said with a nod, his features unreadable, "they did."

"Did?"

"They are still here, Ella," he reassured her, "just not living in Perth."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, relieved to hear Mitch's parents were still alive, even if they were guilty of offloading their only child at a boarding school in another state.

"Look out here," he said, changing the subject, "you can see the coast clearly all the way down."

Doing as he bid, Ella unclipped her belt and leaned over, smiling broadly at the perfect picture beyond the glass. This hadn't been what Ella had expected to find in this country; blue oceans and skies... yes, but the acres of green fields, mountains, and forests nestled in between were still a pleasant surprise. Mind you, before her sojourn Down Under, she had also fully expected to come across kangaroos hopping down the main street and brown snakes under every bush; which she had soon found was clearly not the case. The plane jolted, an air pocket causing the small craft to dip—along with Ella. She practically fell face-first into Mitch's lap; awkward! Flustered and trying to right herself, she dug her nails into the fabric of the armrest, her other hand flat against his chest. He held her steady until the turbulence had passed, one hand over hers, the other protectively around her back. How an innocent touch could radiate so much heat was ridiculous. Ella was starting to wonder if she should have picked up some random hottie and got it out of her system before this weekend. She peeled her hand from his chest, ignoring how it felt, and sank back into her seat, wordlessly fastening her harness back into place. She could feel Mitch's eyes on her, most likely laughing, most likely wondering what on earth was wrong with her... she refused to look up. There were only about thirty or so minutes before they should arrive at their destination and could disembark. Until then, there would be no more contact—eyes or otherwise. She couldn't risk any more midair incidents. She was there to do a job, and for that, she needed to keep her head straight. Hanky-panky was not scheduled on her itinerary.

#

Once safely on the ground, they were escorted to a waiting car; the door held ajar by a smartly-dressed older man.

"Mr. Carrington." The men greeted each other, shaking hands, followed by a friendly slap on the back. The two were obviously not strangers.

"Tom, this is Ella; Ella, Tom. He will take you to the house as I have some business to follow up with a local winery. If you're feeling up to it later, you can drill me some more over dinner."

Ella's brows rose in reproach. "You did say you would answer my questions—happily," she reminded him, before slipping into the back seat of the limo, the dove-colored leather cocooning her in its softness. She didn't mind being dismissed; Mitch had mentioned before they left he would have some business to attend to while here. After being in such close proximity for the afternoon, Ella was happy for the space.

He closed the door behind her, leaning in, his arms crossed against the open window. "Yes, I did—and I will," he said with a wink, before stepping away. Ella heard the whack on the roof of the car as Mitch's hand made contact, like a cowboy would tan a horse's butt to make it move. The car responded in kind, humming to life and driving off into the afternoon sun in a cloud of dust.

#

Mitch was right; Ella did love the house. How could she not—designer beach shack on steroids was what it was. Amazing how they managed to maintain a casual, cosy, beach vibe while still housing all the five-star finishes. She gazed above her at the tall apex ceilings, adorned with plain globes that hung down on black-coated cords. The simplistic lighting starkly juxtaposed with an oversized chandelier crafted entirely of small, white, glistening shells and centered over the enormous dining table. Ella ran her fingers lightly over the solid stone counter tops of the kitchen; the cool marble surface speckled white and mimicking the sand beyond the glassed wall. Black-framed windows and bifold doors opened up the entire back half of the house. A lucky guest could gaze out beyond the timbered deck and straight onto the pale blond sand and native greenery from any comfy seat in the entire room; the vista interrupted only by the fireplace. Like a jewel in a crown, it sat surrounded by stone, the mantel that stretched from the wooden floor at its hearth all the way up to the roof line. She spent the first half-hour roaming through the rooms—each as polished and beautiful as the last. Then there was the master suite. The door was ajar, so technically Ella wasn't prying; she didn't go in. Standing in the doorway was enough to confirm whom this room belonged to. Twice the size of the others, it suited Mitch. Muted charcoals and cream linens draped over the custom king-sized bed; the masculine room accented with an ebony and honeyed wood. Ella backed away, deciding right then that her room would be the one at the farthermost point.

#

Her tour completed, Ella deposited her suitcase on her bed and carried her laptop out to the dining room. The flight down had been nice enough, chatty; she had gleaned a little more information, but still felt somewhat in the dark. Ella glanced at her watch and calculated, figuring she had at best a couple of hours to Google the good stuff and get up to speed on her subject before he came waltzing through the front door. Then, over dinner, she could sort the facts from fiction. Geraldine Croft was the editor-in-chief of Metro Magazine. A big woman, both in presence and stature, she was old-school bossy, shrewd, and painfully to the point. Ella liked her and her frankness. An impromptu meeting had been set up before they went away. Geraldine had been brutally honest with the fact that she was a tad miffed with the idea of Ella doing this story rather than her senior writer. Nevertheless, the story on Mitch Carrington, apparently one of the country's most private and eligible bachelors... with its incredibly short deadline... was hers. A photo shoot was scheduled for the following week, and in the meantime, a folder was being forwarded to her inbox; a head-start gift from her new boss. The rest was up to her.

#

Scrolling through her inbox, Ella shuffled through three days of messages, archiving some, deleting others. There were a few from Kit, her stomach lurching at the sight of them. She knew she was supposed to call him, but she was still not sure whether to fess up about her betrayal of sorts, so she was avoiding it. Ella stabbed at the keys, gingerly opening the first email. WHERE ARE YOU? She cringed. Obviously, her brother wasn't happy with her. She hadn't been in contact for almost a week now, which under normal circumstances would have been perfectly fine, except for the fact that they had agreed otherwise. Yes, she could go to the opposite side of the world alone only... only... if Ella agreed to keep in touch on a regular basis so Kit would know that she was safe. He was both her brother and a parent of sorts, a role he took very seriously following the death of their parents. Under the circumstances, it was fair, and up until this point Ella had been a willing party. Her non-compliance in this instance hadn't been intentional. Well—at least not initially. They were due to Skype a couple of days before she bumped into Mitch, but she had fallen asleep at their scheduled time such was the zone difference between countries. He was out the next time she tried, and then... she bumped into Mitch; her lack of correspondence admittedly becoming more calculated after that. Ella opened the remaining two messages, one just as to the point as the first; the other was a little more cryptic. He wanted to speak to her about an urgent matter. This message was sent two days ago. How urgent? Ella wondered, a frown forming across her brow. Glancing at the clock confirmed what she already knew, it was far too early back home to call right now. Instead, she hit reply and typed back.

I'm okay... long story... will explain when I call. What's so urgent? Ella.

She would never lie to Kit, ever, but she just wasn't sure what truth to tell him yet; she was still figuring out what that was for herself. In the meantime, he deserved to know she was fine, and she would contact him as soon as she could. Ella drew in a deep breath and pressed send.

Next—Mitch.

#

Metro was the go-to mag for Australian city dwellers and tourists alike. It ran stories on who's who, what's what, and where to go for each state. It sourced, produced, and promoted local content, before sandwiching it all together between a glossy cover and distributing monthly across the country. When Ella had found out exactly which magazine she was writing for, her excitement had been palpable; there was no doubt in her mind that she had made the right choice—career-wise anyway. Her fingers twitched over the top of the keypad, looking for Geraldine's message. Finding it, she downloaded the attachment. Her eyes scanned the documents, her head shaking at what she read. This couldn't be right? Ella closed the file and punched Mitch's name onto the screen; let's have a look at what Google had to say about Mr. Carrington. Thirty minutes later, Ella stopped. Mitch had been holding out on her. Now Ella understood why the magazine was willing to hire her to do the exposé in the first place, put simply—because he said so. He owned the magazine! Google was full of him! To be honest, she didn't know why she hadn't scoured the internet before. Touted as one of Australia's wealthiest and most eligible bachelors, not only did Mitch own Metro, he had seven Establishment bars and a hefty real estate portfolio. Even the very house her two feet were planted in right now featured among the notes. The beach shack alone, purchased two years ago, was apparently worth millions.

Still, even these accolades, as glittering as they were, paled in comparison to one other giant nugget of information. Mitch Carrington, the boy of her summers, the man in her dreams, and the current thorn in her side, was also the only child to one of the north's most successful mining families. Red-gold indeed!

Ella's head was spinning.

Bewildered, she closed the screen and leaned her head in her hands. It hurt. Further searching online would no doubt only confirm what she'd already read. Google had a lot to say about Mitch. As for sorting the facts from fiction... Well, she would have the man himself at her disposal very soon. She would find out the truth soon enough. 

# CHAPTER SEVEN

"There you are." Mitch's voice carried through the air startling her.

Ella glanced back over her shoulder and watched as he approached over the sand, barefoot, with a bottle of wine and two glasses clasped in his hands. He looked young and handsome; the city seriousness left behind with the tall buildings and endless traffic. He looked like the Mitch she remembered, carefree and up for anything, hard work or a good time. But, as her afternoon had uncovered, he was not the boy of her summers, not the boy she thought he was anyway. She turned her attention back to the bay, sucking in the serenity, hoping some of its calm would rub off on her.

"Mind if I pull up a bit of sand?" Mitch asked lightly, his good mood obvious.

Ella didn't answer. She had been stewing for the last hour and still didn't trust what she might say. She shrugged instead. It was a free world.

Mitch's eyes narrowed; Ella's arms were folded over her chest, her mouth set in a straight line. Feeling brave, he dropped down next to her anyway and fixed the bottle and glasses into the powdery sand.

"Ella?' he tested carefully, nudging her shoulder gently with his.

"You've been holding out on me." Her tone was flat, accusatory.

Uh-oh. He had a pretty strong hunch what this was about, and Mitch cursed his timing. He knew full well that it would come out sooner rather than later. Picking up a handful of sand he let it sift between his fingers, buying a few seconds before he answered.

"Let me guess—you've been doing your homework?"

Ella cast him a brief but withering glare from behind lowered lashes; it was answer enough.

Oh-kay. "So, I take it dinner is out of the question?" He tried to make light; humor was his default position.

Ella huffed, unamused. "You've got that right," she answered petulantly.

"I was intending to tell you tonight."

Humph. "Were you?" she challenged. "Mitch, as my boss, if you wanted me to do a good job perhaps you could have been just a little more upfront."

Mitch could feel the heat radiating from her body, warning him not to come too close.

"It was an oversight, Ella. Like I said, I had fully intended to tell you everything you needed to know tonight."

Incredulous, Ella's indignation still rumbled. "Seriously, Mitch. Owning Metro is one thing. Owning seven Establishment bars is quite another! You should have been upfront—and as for being a mining zillionaire!"

"Zillionaire is a bit of an exaggeration," he admonished, "besides, mining isn't for me—a concept my family has had to adjust to also."

Ella's brain clicked... the family fallout... that's what it must have been about. Still, she was far from ready to let him off the hook.

"No excuse. It's not something people would forget to mention about themselves."

Mitch shrugged. "That's ironic; in my experience, my bank balance, or my family's bank balance, is usually the last thing I want people to know about me."

Oh. When he put it like that. Ella swallowed her wrath, the fight going out of her this time. Mitch dusted the sand from his hands and reached forward, unscrewing the lid from the bottle of wine still cool in its makeshift holder. He filled one of the crystal glasses, offering it to her.

"Forgive me, Ella. I didn't think you would take the job if you knew I owned the magazine. I thought you could do a good job, an honest and unbiased piece. We looked at some of your work, and Geraldine agreed to give you a shot."

Glancing sideways, Ella accepted the glass murmuring her thanks, her gaze catching his for a second before reverting back to the horizon. The ocean was flat, its waves barely ruffling the surface as they rolled in to shore echoing her mood.

"You okay?" he questioned after a moment.

Ella sighed; it had been a rollercoaster week.

"Yeah," she nodded, "I'm sorry. Maybe I should be alone." It was the safest bet.

"Not if you're upset," Mitch murmured gently. "Mind if I stay?"

Ella glanced at him from beneath her lashes. Despite his silver-spoon secrets, maybe the man beside her was still just the Mitch of her past after all. "I guess that would be okay," she answered.

#

The rest of the weekend went more according to plan. Mitch had been unfailingly generous with his personal information—allowing Ella to dig into all the corners of his life now that she had a green light to do so. Although he did steer her toward his more recent endeavors and business dealings, rather than his family interests and his personal status.

"It has to be part of the story," Ella said adamantly.

Mitch had given her a final twenty minutes' worth of badgering before Tom was due to arrive to take him back to the airstrip, leaving her a couple of days to finish up at her will. He was twenty-nine, intelligent, successful, driven, kind, undeniably hot, handsome, and loaded. Of course the readers wanted to know if he were available, or interested for that matter.

Mitch pushed his chair out from the table they were seated at and walked up to the breakfast bar chuckling. He picked up the stack of papers from the counter that he needed to take back to Perth and sat down again.

"I am doing this to promote business, Ella, not looking to pick up."

She rolled her eyes, "Yes... yes... yes. I know. But readers will be interested in this; I'm telling you."

He looked up at her, his eyes alight with humor, but measured. "I am not currently dating anyone. Is that enough?"

Okay, that was something at least but... . . "Interested?" she pressed, curious. "It's not like you're getting any younger."

"Nice!" Mitch guffawed, shaking his head bemusedly. He was obviously not getting off the hook with this one. He placed his documents with his laptop into its bag, closed it, and pushed it aside. Giving Ella his undivided attention, he leaned back in his chair, his hands hooked loosely behind his head, a stance Ella had noticed he favored.

Eyeballing her, he answered frankly. "Maybe I am. How about you, Ella, are you single? Are you interested?"

What? She hadn't seen that coming. Ella shook her head resolutely "Uh-uh, you don't get to ask me questions. That was not part of our deal."

Mitch grinned wickedly, unfazed. "Nothing to do with our deal. I'm just asking."

Ella blushed; she had managed to get through almost the entire weekend unscathed—safe with the serious stuff, all of which was aimed squarely at Mitch, or equally safe superficial small talk: the weather, the beautiful bays, or what constituted a fine wine. Now this! Ella scrambled, confused. Was he asking in general... or was he asking... asking? Either way, there could only be one possible answer.

"No. I'm not interested."

"Not interested in general or just not interested in me?" His eyes burned into hers, the loaded question hanging provocatively between them.

Ahhh... jeeezz. Ella was squirming, thinking that Mitch may have missed his true vocation.

Her face colored with the memories drenched up. Oh boy, if only he knew just how much she had been interested; as an unenlightened, barely eighteen-year-old, she'd wanted nothing more.

She remembered that night, the night in her dream, only it hadn't played out quite the same way. Kit had wanted their house to himself for the evening. He had planned a hot date with Cassidy and using one of the vans wasn't going to work, likewise, having his younger sister in the next room. So she had been banished, just for a night, to a van or their unfinished apartment block. Ella chose the apartments; one of them at least was nearer completion—it was also occupied by Mitch. She hadn't considered the prospect that Mitch might mind. She'd made herself comfortable, ran a bath, and thinking Mitch was out for the night, figured it was perfectly acceptable to romp around half-naked while she searched for her iPod. Only Mitch was home—he'd returned to grab his jacket when they almost collided.

#

They met midway across the living room, just as it was in her dream... the stark walls, the sweltering heat, the music, the open doors, and the sea breeze... all of it identical, like a rerun of a movie. Except he didn't take her in his arms; he didn't trace a heated path over her skin; he didn't lift her onto the lounge—or part her legs.

No.

Their eyes had locked alright, Ella like a deer caught in the headlights; only she wasn't frightened. Mitch's face had remained impassive, with only his jaw giving him away, tight and clenched, his eyes lingering—it was as if a spell had been cast over them both. Seconds passed before Mitch broke free, taking the few short steps he needed to reach her. His eyes were heavy, shooting sparks, their warning clear. He draped the jacket in his hands around her shoulders, covering her, before turning her around to face the direction from which she came.

"Little girls shouldn't play with fire, Ella," he growled, before unceremoniously smacking her on her barely-covered ass and sending her on her way.

Ella hadn't looked back. She heard him leave, unplugged the bathtub, packed her things and moved to apartment three, where, alone with her embarrassment, she spent the night. Mitch had come over sometime in the early hours to check she was there. She had feigned sleep, even though there had been none of that. He had covered her with a blanket and hung back, watching over her for longer than was needed. Ella had held her breath the entire time, her humiliation enough to keep her still and quiet. For the most part, they avoided each other for the week that followed and then, of course, they didn't need to bother with that anymore either—because a few days later Mitch was gone.

#

She was not eighteen anymore. Ella put down her pen, momentarily and unexpectedly perplexed; so what did twenty-five-year-old Ella want?

"Ella?" Mitch had moved from his seat toward her, concerned. "You don't have to answer. I'm teasing."

Snapping back to the present, she turned to face him. "Didn't you want to kiss me?" The words were out of her mouth before she could haul them back in.

Mitch frowned, his head cocked to one side, clearly also surprised by her question. "What do you mean?"

It was out there now, no turning back. Ella took a deep breath.

"In San Diego; at the beach apartments. Do you even remember that night?" It occurred to her that what was a big deal for her, may not have even rated for him. Mitch Carrington had probably had many, many naked women standing bedazzled before him in the years before and in the years that followed.

Mitch was quiet. His eyes cast down like he was replaying a scene, checking, replaying, checking... pause. He looked up. Ella's breath caught, her heart skipping a beat. The fire in his eyes told her that yes, he clearly did remember that night.

"So?" Ella was being bold, incredibly so. She had asked him so many questions these last couple of days, she figured what was another.

"You were too young," he answered flatly.

"I was eighteen—legal. But I'm not talking about sex. I asked you why you didn't kiss me. Didn't you want to?"

Mitch blew out a low whistle, looking at her guardedly.

"Ella. Do you remember what I said to you that night?"

Oh yes, she remembered. Ella bit her lip, not game enough to repeat the words out loud.

"Well, the same goes," he warned.

Oh no... ... no... no. He doesn't get to do that twice. "I'm not a little girl anymore."

Mitch's eyes narrowed in thought. Now that was a true statement if ever there was one. "There were a lot of reasons. Your brother was one of them. You were a no-go zone; we were mates."

Ella was disappointed and relieved at the same time; it was entirely plausible. She looked at Mitch, the past swimming before her eyes, so familiar, blurring the present. "And—the other reasons?" Talk about a glutton for punishment; did she really want to know all the reasons why he didn't? As illogical as it was... yes she did. Ella wanted to know as much as her eighteen-year-old self did. Was it really possible to feel so much, and yet it be nothing beyond her own imagination? Her heart pounded; he was close... so close... too close... not close enough.

"What were your other reasons, Mitch?"

It was pointless holding out. She wanted her answers, and she wasn't going to stop until he gave them to her. Mitch looked her in the eye. "Because, Ella, I might not have been able to stop." His confession came to her slowly, crystallizing as her brain looped them together. "I wouldn't have wanted you to stop," the words whispered, fell effortlessly from her lips, an easy truth to own up to.

It was what he had been waiting to hear. To hell with his control, there was nothing or no one to stop them now. Not here on the edge of paradise, in this place, this time. They were alone... nobody would know... neither would tell. It was just a kiss.

# CHAPTER EIGHT

It was just a kiss. Tom had come knocking right on schedule, leaving no time for anything else—nothing like good staff to be punctual. But what a kiss it was. Years in the making, it had been worth it. Ella hadn't realized it was possible to feel so very much from this one simple act of human interaction. A kiss so electrifying it had every nerve in her body standing to attention, and yet, at the same time, utterly and breathtakingly tender. For that moment, Ella felt eighteen again. Her love from all those years ago had not been unrequited after all; the realization appeased her heart and her ego. Now she knew... now he knew... it was out in the open... they had a thing, but now it was also done. There couldn't be anything else, impossible, she was adult enough to grasp that concept. They lived oceans apart, and there was the rather glaring issue of Kit. Mitch's name was taboo in their house; he was not to be trusted and her brother would never welcome him. The universe had simply transpired to throw them together once more, a last hurrah so it could be put to rest. That's what it was—that's all it was. Right?

Right.

#

She finished the article the next day. It was easy with all that alone time on her hands. Ella had walked the empty beach, glad to find it had yet to be improved by human hands on any part. She imagined the summers here, with soaring temperatures well into the high thirties or low forties as Mitch had described; the white sand against the turquoise blue ocean, a shining, golden oasis tucked away from the prying eyes of the world. When Ella did finally sit down to write, the words flowed effortlessly. She decided, in the end, to write the article as it was intended to be, focusing on Mitch's successes, The Establishment bars, and upcoming projects. As much as she hated to admit it, the idea of half the women in Australia licking their fuchsia-painted lips and ogling Mitch got the better of her. His family connections and bachelor status were duly acknowledged, but not flaunted; he didn't need further adornments to attract the treasure chasers. She sent her completed story to Mitch, as was part of their agreement; he still had the power to veto anything he wasn't particularly happy about before it was then handed over to Geraldine. Ella didn't blame him. She knew he was a private person at heart, and if someone were about to splash her life in front of hundreds of thousands of readers, she would want a first glimpse as well. Besides, she reminded herself, tongue in cheek—he was the boss.

#

Tom had returned the following afternoon to collect Ella, diligently fulfilling his duties to see her safely aboard the plane and on her way back to the big city. She had spent what was left of her day in her apartment unpacking and washing, and generally attending to all the boring stuff that had been neglected. She considered calling Kit, but it was too early so she was off the hook, at least until later that night when she would try at a more appropriate time—she didn't think it would be prudent to wake a sleeping bear in the early hours. Ella threw the last of her garments into the washing machine, topped up the powder, and let the lid drop closed before pressing the appropriate buttons. She set her toiletries in the bathroom, her shoes at the bottom of her robe, and her laptop on the desk—everything back where it should be, except for Ella. She found herself standing in the middle of the room feeling utterly out of place. It was odd; she'd been traveling alone for months and had never felt like this.

#

Flopping onto the lounge, she checked her phone for the second time that afternoon, but there were no missed calls or texts—not that she was expecting any. Tossing her mobile to the floor and out of arm's reach, Ella sighed and rolled over, staring at the ceiling and looking for cracks to count. Being alone was something she had learned to do well, so why now did she suddenly feel lonely? Argh! She groaned out loud, echoing her body's sentiments; she was on edge in so many ways, and she couldn't seem to shake it. She hugged a cushion to herself for solace, her head resting on the padded arm of the sofa, while she contemplated her predicament. Mitch's kiss may have closed some doors, but it had opened others, the ensuing fallout wreaking havoc in all the wrong places. Her body had been humming from the moment he held her to him, her softness molding, then melting against the hard muscles of his torso. If Tom hadn't arrived when he had, Ella wasn't sure what might have happened next. Would they have continued to the leather-covered lounge or down the hall to the king-sized bed? Would they have even made it off the dining room table? Any which way, if her current state were anything to go by, there would have been the fireworks she'd dreamed about for sure. However, Ella boohooed, not a single one of these thoughts were particularly helpful to her right now! She needed to shake this... she needed to do something fast... she needed to get laid, and if it couldn't be Mitch, because it couldn't be Mitch, then it would have to be someone else.

#

No—too young.

Definitely not—too old.

Too tall—too short—too blond—too curly—too straight—beards—nooo.

Not enough muscles—too many muscles—too loud—too quiet—too little—too MUCH!

Damn!

How about too picky! Ella scolded herself, fed up. She had been to three bars on a night out with her high-rise neighbors, but now found herself alone; the part-time friends deserting her for darker and dingier dance clubs. It wasn't Ella's scene, so here she was with ten minutes till midnight, and yet to find a single man in this entire town tonight who was doing it for her. Lots of very hip, handsome men for sure, dozens, and she was sure some of them were even charming had she given them the time of day. Ella pouted over her bubbles—a dismal failure; her body was not happy with her at all. Mind you, she had never been good at this sort of thing. Ella blamed Kit; he had scared off most of the boys who were interested in her when she was younger, so she was seriously under-experienced with very little training right from the get-go.

#

"Hi."

Huh? Ella lifted her head from her hands, her eyes focusing on the stranger in front of her. Oh... Half a chance. Her libido flickered with hope, nudging her from the inside out.

The lone brave soul was of suitable height, with suitably pleasant features and a kind smile.

Ella pulled herself up and dusted herself off; Come on, she chided silently, give the guy a chance. "Hi," she said with a warm smile.

"Mind if I sit down?"

"Ahh... sure," Ella nodded with her game face in place—this wasn't so hard.

"Are you here by yourself?" She glanced around the emptying bar, checking for the obligatory bunch of friends who may or may not have been egging him on. But no, no one appeared to be applauding his efforts. Except... ohh... Out of the corner of her eye, Ella caught the wave; discreet as it was, it had her attention. She took a second look, her eyes narrowing in on the culprit—her stomach lurched—it was not the stranger's wingman at all. It was Mitch.

#

He stood in the darkened corner, surrounded by several people, including two stunning women in beautiful dresses. His eyes glowered in Ella's direction; even at a distance she could see them burning into her. She whirled back to the man in front of her, determined not to be put off, batted her lashes, and pushed out the chair next to her, patting it with her hand.

"Take a seat." The man was stuck; half stooped to sit yet still standing, his hand resting hesitantly on the back of the metal chair. He was losing his nerve, his gaze also drawn to the far, dark corner. Arghh! Ella looked back over her shoulder. Like the predator he was, Mitch had left the glamor pack and was making his way over. Great.

"Perhaps another time," the guy said awkwardly, straightening and backing away from Ella.

She nodded, giving him a sympathetic smile. "Sure thing." She wouldn't hold it against him.

The sight of a six-foot-plus Mitch heading this way, looking more than a little worked up, had her packing up for the evening as well. Abandoning her bubbles, Ella shoved her clutch under her arm and rose from the table.

"Leaving so suddenly, Ella?"

She stopped in her tracks; he looked even better close up—damn it. "I am," she countered evenly.

Mitch scanned the room looking for the stranger, but he needn't have bothered; he was long gone. A wise man knows when to retreat.

Ella read his mind. "Alone, Mitch. I am leaving alone thanks to you."

Mitch looked momentarily affronted. "You wouldn't have gone home with that guy anyway," he scoffed.

She shoved in her chair, satisfied with the angry noise it made. "And why not?" she demanded.

Mitch smiled dangerously. "Because I wouldn't have let you."

"You don't have that power," she threw back, miffed at his nerve, and spun on her heel to leave.

Mitch caught her arm, pulling her to him. "Don't I?"

Inches, mere inches; if she leaned in just one more inch—she would feel him again. It wasn't fair. Ella wanted to stomp her foot; she was angry with him, with herself, with her traitorous body, for goodness sake whose side was it on! She pulled away, giving herself enough space to be able to look up into his face. "We can't do this, Mitch," she pleaded, her eyes desperate. If she couldn't resist, he had to.

#

Mitch took her hand firmly in his, leading her outside, the cool air straight off the river hitting her with its biting cold. Winter had come seemingly overnight. He shrugged out of his tailored jacket and wrapped it around her, one arm possessively remaining as they walked.

The Establishment was almost empty when they got there, closed at midnight and packed away. Mitch dismissed the lingering staff members who were hanging back for a post-work drink, kicking them out with a generous wad of cash for their trouble and locking the doors behind them. He pulled the security doors and shutters closed and turned down the lights, then walked toward her. "What did you think you were doing?"

He was mad, not a side she had witnessed often. "I was out with friends having fun," she replied defensively.

Mitch's eyes narrowed. "You were by yourself, Ella." She shrugged. "They left. I thought I'd have a last drink before I went home."

"I would have bought you a drink."

Ella rolled her eyes. "If we were out together that would have been fine. But we weren't. You had other company." Not that she was jealous, that would be ridiculous.

Mitch frowned, agitated. "You shouldn't be out at bars alone, Ella, especially in strange cities, doing..." his words trailed off with his frustration.

Oh no. If he were going to ruin her night and drag her here, then he could spit it out!

"Doing what? Mitch, I am a grown woman; I can do as I please. If I want to go home with a man and have mind-blowing sex, then I'm allowed to!" Whoa, where was this coming from? Ella was bubbling over. Did she really think she was going to have mind-blowing sex with that stranger? No. Did she think she was ever going to have mind-blowing anything ever again after what she felt with Mitch? She doubted it. But a girl had to try; what other option did she have.

Mitch rounded on her, his chest heaving with restraint. "You were seriously going to let that guy touch you!"

Ohh. Damn. Yes... no? She shrugged, unsure herself. Her eyes closed and Ella hung her head, her hair falling like a curtain, shutting out the one person who could give her exactly what she wanted—what she needed.

"Mitch..." Ella's voice broke. Lonely was starting to play with her head and her heart.

Mitch's heart constricted. He understood; he knew what she was fighting, he knew he should have been on her side, but he couldn't. Mitch couldn't help himself any more than she could.

His tightly-held rein losing its grip with every moment he spent with her—or without her.

This was crazy, this was old news; old news he'd left behind a long time ago in another place. Seeing her now years later like this was torture, as sweet as it was. Old fires ignited, only this time with no reason that he could fathom to dowse the flames.

#

His hands gently tucked her dark hair back behind her ear, and cupping each side of her beautiful face, he lifted her gaze to his. "I can give you what you want, Ella."

"But..." Her words barely audible, her protest feeble even to her own ears.

In a single effortless movement, Mitch wrapped his hands around her slim waist and hoisted her up onto the bar so they were at eye level. Ella gazed into the handsome face, knowing instinctively in that moment that fighting this would be hopeless. She couldn't find another man in this entire city to go home with because this is where she wanted to be; this was the man she wanted to be with... no one else; her head would just have to deal with it tomorrow. With her hands on his shoulders, she pulled him to her and brought his mouth to hers.

#

Mitch groaned, his hands caressing Ella's thighs, her silk skirt bunching where they hovered. He grasped her hips and pulled her firmly to him so that she perched on the very edge of the wooden bar; her heels falling free and dropping to the floor as she wrapped each long leg around him so that she straddled his hips, fitting into him. He pushed his jacket from her shoulders, his hands slipping into the opening of her blouse and cupping each breast, the soft mounds fitting snugly into his palms, his fingers working over the sensual tips until they blushed, aching sharply from the erotic attention.

Ella moaned and arched her back, pressing her hips forward into him, her modesty long forgotten, the illicit pleasure warming her blood as it raced through her veins. Atop a bar may not have been quite how Ella had envisioned her first time with Mitch; her fanciful teenage daydreams had been more the hearts and flowers type of thing—this was an entirely different experience. "I need you now," she whispered breathlessly, unraveling under his touch; her desire at fever pitch yearning to feel him inside her. She fumbled, unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it free, running her hands over his chest and down his torso. He was everything she'd imagined and more; his body rippled with lean muscle that disappeared down in a deep V. Brazenly, she skirted the band of his jeans, her hands unable to ignore his straining hardness beneath.

He pulled away, holding her at arm's length before him. His voice ragged, he whispered, "Ella... are you sure?" Like Mitch, she was half naked, and there was no mistaking what she wanted.

"Look at me," Ella implored. There would be no turning back tonight. With their bodies perfectly aligned, Mitch yanked roughly at the final barrier between them, her silk panties giving away far too easily considering how much they cost! Ella was poised, her legs parted erotically, her body angled for him to enter. A guttural groan escaped Mitch as his shaft nudged at her entry; inch by inch in a calculated tease, he eased inside her until he was buried in her moist warmth to the hilt. Ella sighed and gasped at the same time, the heady experience of having him fill her was all that was needed to take her to the brink; every nerve pulsating with the mind-blowing sensations that leaped and spiraled throughout her entire body.

Mitch withdrew and plunged into her again; this time, there was no teasing to suffer, their lovemaking urgent and needy, each powerful thrust stoking the fire, carrying them toward a frenzied peak. Ella clung to Mitch, her arms entwined with his yet still unable to hold on tight enough. Their lips locked, their tongues darting in an erotic dance. Mitch's muscles tensed, his strong arms pinning her to him in a final surge of reckless desire. Ella reeled, the explosion vaulting deliciously through every inch of her being—wave after blissful wave. She was sure she would lose herself in this moment. Unabashedly, she realized somewhere amidst the rapture, she could very well lose herself in this man; the shuddering climax so intense it made her cry out loud.

#

In that instant, when her head, her heart, and her body were all magically singing the same tune, Ella realized something else. Something her instincts had been trying to tell her all week. She should have booked a ticket on a plane and been out of there the very moment she laid eyes on Mitch Carrington again. 

# CHAPTER NINE

Ella awoke the next morning cocooned in Mitch's warmth, his heavy arms thrown around her holding her close, his hard body pressing along her full length. Unwilling to break the spell Ella kept still, adjusting to the morning light, the strange room, and to the fact that she was stark naked in a man's bed.

She expected to feel a little awkward the morning after. She waited for it to come, the blush, the embarrassment—still waiting—but no. A little shy maybe; after all, they had seen each other in an entirely different light, but Ella didn't feel the need to make a hasty getaway. Wiggling under the weight of his arms, she managed to roll over until she was facing him; her breasts pressed up against his chest and their legs entwined. She touched her fingers gently to his lips, tracing over their shape and marveling at the power they possessed. His eyes still closed, dark lashes unfairly long for his gender fanned his cheeks, his head heavy on the pillow; the face of a sleepy but contented and sated man. Tentatively, she traced over the small scar above his eye; at this proximity, she could see it more clearly, although faint, a permanent reminder of another time.

Mitch stirred, catching her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. His eyes opened lazily, pale gold in the morning light. "Good morning, Ella." She met his gaze shyly. "Good morning." He tucked a loose strand of her long, dark hair back from her face, watching her intently, his thumb caressing over the contour of her cheek. "I'm glad you stayed." Ella blushed lightly, remembering at some point last night she had insisted that she should go home. "I didn't want to wake up in the morning and not know what to say to you."

"You would say how lucky you were that you went home with me and not that other bloke," he deadpanned.

"Yeah, yeah." Ella laughed, batting him playfully; giving his response all the credence it deserved.

It was a night beyond anything he had imagined. Having her naked on top of his bar was an image that would be stamped into his memory, front and center, for eternity. "I have pictured you many times, Ella," he said, dropping his head and peppering her with kisses as he spoke, "but never like that."

Ella blushed pink. It wasn't a night she would easily forget either. "So..." she hedged, purposely changing the subject, "I don't suppose you remember promising me breakfast?"

His hand, which was making a lazy trail down her back to the top of her buttocks, stopped suddenly. "I did?" Ella rolled her eyes. "Yes. I believe you said if I were good, you would cook me breakfast."

Mitch's brow cocked quizzically. "I said that?" Playing along, she feathered the stubble along his jaw with her fingers. "You most certainly did." Swiftly rolling onto his back, Mitch pulled her on top of him in one easy movement —their bodies fitting like pieces of a puzzle, every groove a perfect match. She squealed, looping her arms around his neck and straddling him. Feeling him beneath her made her all too aware that food was perhaps not what he had on his mind in that instant. "First, you might need to remind me again exactly how good you were... ."

A delicious pang of anticipation spiraled through Ella's body, right down to her toes. Succumbing to his lethal charms was no hardship. They had made love again and again throughout the night. Ella couldn't be sure of the count, but it seemed every time they woke they sought each other out, their bodies refusing to tire, their desire insatiable; her two-hundred-and-eighty-nine-day sexual drought more than broken, it was splintered into a million dazzling pieces. She was sure she could manage one more time. One more time before common sense reined in her antics. Ella smiled wickedly, her kisses working their way down his hard body—may as well make it one to remember.

#

"What happened that night between you and Kit?"

True to his word, Mitch had whipped them up a very impressive breakfast in his small adjoining kitchen. He looked up from his plate, his brow furrowed. "That was a long time ago, Ella." She nodded matter-of-factly. "I know. I was there, remember." His head inclined, acknowledging her statement. Yes, she was there. "You really still don't know?"

Ella shook her head; there had been years of not knowing. "No." Kit wouldn't speak to anyone that night, and by the next morning, Mitch and Cassidy had both gone—poof—just like that they had disappeared, taking their good times with them. In the weeks that followed, life with her brother was, to put it plainly—hell. He was moody and distant. Ella may as well not have been there at all. The days rolled into weeks, and the siblings eventually did what they had learned to do; they got on with it. Like a man possessed, Kit threw everything he had into completing the apartments; Ella went back to her studies, and life found yet another new rhythm. Their Aussie escapade was designated to distant memory banks; that was, until a little over a week ago. Picking at her food, Ella waited for Mitch to reply, her curiosity burning.

"Well?" she pressed. "Do you still see Cassidy?" Mitch finished what was on his fork and set it down, eyeing her thoughtfully. He took a slow, deliberate sip from his coffee. "No," he answered, "of course I don't see Cassidy. What would make you think that?" Ella shrugged. Considering the two of them disappeared together, she felt it was a fair question. "You were in her room that night, and you had both gone the next day—without a word." Mitch sat back in his seat, a deep breath escaping him, clearly not impressed. "It wasn't what you think, Ella," he said, his tone carefully leveled. Cassidy had been in a state, half-naked and frantic with the two men about to throttle each other. That's what Ella had seen when she walked in. She shuddered at the memory. It wasn't a stretch to an obvious conclusion. Ella would be more than happy for it to be anything else.

"Then tell me what it was," she persisted.

Uninterested in the past, Mitch studied her before speaking, his words measured.

"Does it matter now?"

Ella was taken aback. Yes, it mattered, if not more so now. A week ago, they really were just old friends; overnight it had become, well, complicated. Yes, she wanted to know—she needed to know.

"Kit's my brother, of course it matters."

Mitch shrugged.

"Did you know he had asked Cassidy to marry him?"

Ella almost choked on her coffee, the hot liquid scalding her throat. "What!" No wonder Kit had been so livid. Finding Mitch in Cassidy's room, the woman he loved enough to ask for her hand in marriage—doing god knows what. Oh... Ella's heart clenched, the betrayal he must have felt. And here she was, fraternizing with the enemy. She pushed her plate aside, no longer hungry. She looked at Mitch across the table; was he that kind of man? A man who couldn't be trusted—that's what Kit had said. Mitch wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin and tossed it onto his plate, not liking what he saw on Ella's face.

"Like I said, it was not what it appeared. I would have thought you knew me better than that."

Ella winced, contrite. Not quite knowing which side of the fence she should be on now. What else could she assume? She saw what she saw...

"I had no interest in Cassidy, Ella. She was trouble. Trust me when I say Kit should have been glad to be rid of her." He stood, offering his hand; the subject apparently closed. "Let's leave it at that."

She swallowed her questions and let him pull her to her feet. As much as she would have preferred him to elaborate, that was clearly not going to happen. For now, she would let it slide. Mitch's hand skirted around the hem of the shirt she had borrowed from his wardrobe.

"As much as I would like to take you back upstairs and put you over my knee for a number of reasons, I should take you home."

Ella felt a pang of disappointment, which both surprised and annoyed her. Had she expected to spend the whole day together? Reality check, they had sex—the one-night variety, and the unwritten rule of such exploits clearly state that in the morning it shall be over. It was morning.

"I have a plane to catch in an hour," Mitch explained, "I have to be in Hobart tonight."

Tasmania... of course; she had forgotten that was on his agenda.

"Sure, of course," she managed dispassionately. "I should be getting home anyway. Tons of stuff to do—Geraldine mentioned another job."

It had only been very loosely put to her via email, but as an excuse, Ella figured it would suffice. Mitch pulled her into his arms, refusing to let her go.

"But you see, I'm the boss—so you could still come with me. First class," he said with a wicked wink.

Ella bit down on her lip, briefly wondering if Mitch had read the rule book for one-night-stands recently either. She had presumed he would have a volume next to his bed. No—she couldn't go to Tasmania with him.

"Another time perhaps," she lied, for both their sakes.

Mitch's eyes narrowed, sensing the shift. He lifted her chin forcing her to look at him. "Ella? You will still be here when I get back?" he questioned, the notion only just occurring to him.

Ella couldn't help it, her gaze dropped away, just for a second. "Of course," she mumbled. She could promise him that. When the time came, she wouldn't leave without saying goodbye. 

# CHAPTER TEN

Kit wanted to sell their home.

Following her debaucherous night out, Ella had headed straight for the shower. She stayed under the spray for a full twenty minutes, and stepped out only when she heard her mobile ringing and her skin had started to wrinkle. Quickly drying herself, she darted to the kitchen half dressed, and retrieved her phone from where she had tossed it aside earlier. She had hoped it was Mitch, her heart skipping a beat when she picked up the device, telling her he wasn't going to Tasmania at all, that he was waiting for her back at The Establishment—but that wasn't the case. It was Kit. Ella's heart sank, her stomach churning at the thought of speaking with her brother. But the three missed calls noted on her screen couldn't be ignored; Kit was very clearly not giving up this time. Ella tightened the cord on her robe, sucked in her breath, and swiped the screen to answer; time to face the music.

"Hi Kit... ."

And that was about where the goodwill for her brother ended. After first enduring a sound dressing-down for not keeping in contact, she then had to suffer his bombshell—the real reason for his call. He wanted to sell the park—their parents' holiday park—their home. The very one that had been in their family for three generations.

#

Ella had been speechless, her childhood bubble burst, the memories ping-ponging front and center. They had grown up in that house and the park grounds that bordered it. They knew every inch of the manicured lawns, every shed to hide in, every dirt track to race down, which tree to climb, or fence to jump. Ella could only manage one word for her brother.

"NO!" It meant so much to her, and she had thought equally as much to Kit. So how could he possibly want to part with it? But he had it all worked out; the fact of her lying low no doubt giving him all the time he needed to do just that not lost on her. Logistics and figures had been sorted right down to the minutest of details—none of which registered with Ella. The barrage of information would need to be repeated at another date; right now, it was just a jumble of dollar signs and emotions. Kit needed the money from the sale of the property. He also needed hands-on time to bring his new venture to fruition. Some resort in the Indian Ocean, or was it the Pacific? Perhaps she should have paid more attention. Regardless, while she had been taking her sweet time about working things out for herself, Kit had made plans of his own. That much she got.

#

Ella rolled over on her spot on the grass bank where she was wiling away her morning, killing time before she had to show up at The Establishment. They were shooting the last of the images to go with her feature article. Geraldine had requested her presence before she was to catch the late train into Fremantle for her job. She had succumbed to her badgering and agreed to do one last article. This woman was clearly accustomed to getting her own way. It would be her final story for Metro, a quick review piece on luxury boutique hotels in the area. She was actually happy she'd accepted now, how hard could it be, stay in five-star digs and report how great it is—easy. Besides the obvious perks, Ella welcomed the distraction. She yanked absently at the green strands of grass under her fingertips; it's not like she had anything better to do anyway. Mitch was still in Tassie; his two-day trip had morphed into five and counting, leaving Ella to her own devices. He had called several times, all of which she had purposely ignored. As the days went on, she simply didn't know what to say to him. Sighing, she pulled herself up to a sitting position and gazed out over the city and river below, willing the tightness in her chest to go away.

She hadn't spoken to Kit again since his call. He wanted answers from her straight away, but Ella wasn't ready to sign off on anything just yet—if ever. She knew she had no right to be upset with him; after all, she had been away on her own grand adventure, living the dream, rekindling old acquaintances. Kit had been left to handle the load, and if she were honest, he always had. Her interests were always looked after. The family business may not necessarily be bustling anymore—people flew to far-off places for their holidays now—it was a sign of the times. Still, it had managed to support them both adequately. Ella had always presumed that one constant in her life would simply carry on, that Kit would carry it on, as they had never discussed otherwise. She, on the other hand, had been in the enviable position to choose whether she wanted to be involved in a more hands-on manner, or not.

The only good thing about their entire conversation was that whatever she was up to on this side of the world failed even to rate. Her brief excuse for being errant in her correspondence was the simple truth—she was busy doing some work for an Australian magazine. She didn't elaborate; she didn't need to. Kit didn't probe any further. Ella was relieved for that one small mercy; no need to fess up that she was canoodling with the enemy. No need to mention Mitch at all.

#

Just as Ella's Australian adventure had been at risk of taking an entirely different spin, it had been curbed. In the light of things, it was probably for the best. Her... Mitch... it couldn't amount to anything; this recent turn of events even further proof of that. The candy-colored dots of the cars crowding the freeway below blurred before her eyes, the tears she had been fighting welling up and spilling over. Ella knew she had to face facts; she had run out of excuses to still be in this city, let alone this country. Hauling herself up, she wiped the tears from her cheeks and glanced at her watch. She was due at The Establishment soon, but there would be just enough time for her to do what she had to do.

#

"What!" Geraldine's wail sounded above the commotion. Startled, every head in the room swiveled in her direction. They were at The Establishment, the venue buzzing with activity as everyone rallied around, busy with their assigned tasks. Geraldine's steely gaze swept over the floor taking in the masses before coming to rest on Ella; her harried expression softening as a smile spread across her face—the type that showed her teeth.

"Ella."

Oh no. Ella squirmed. She had a bad feeling about this. "Ahh... yes?"

"The talent didn't show," Geraldine barked as soon as Ella reached her side.

Oh-kay... and... ? Ella was unsure how she could rectify the problem, but she didn't have to ponder for long.

"We need a stand-in model, and you're it."

Oh no, no, no. She did not do model. "Geraldine, I really think you should get a professional."

Geraldine tapped the watch on her wrist. "No time. It must be shot today—now, Ella!"

"But..." Ella stammered, "I'm not dressed right, I'm not..." her words trailed off. There was nothing right about her today, certainly nothing that should be polarized for prosperity. Her hair was tied up in a messy topknot. She had no makeup on, and she was dressed down for comfort—slouchy boy jeans and her favorite Route 66 T-shirt. She was certainly not making a style statement. All that aside, her eyes were far too red from wayward thoughts and a serious lack of sleep.

"Nonsense." Geraldine put her arm around her shoulders in a vice-like grip, presumably so she couldn't escape, and led her over to a far corner where a curtained partition was set up.

"That is what these ladies are here for."

Ella was introduced to the styling team: makeup, hair, and wardrobe. The girls sized her up silently, no doubt working out how long they would need to transform this scruffy duck into a swan. Geraldine patted Ella's back, a gesture that was meant to be reassuring. "I am sure Mr. Carrington will appreciate it."

Ella smiled wryly. Oh, Mr. Carrington had better appreciate it!

"We need you to get ready. We've only got fifteen minutes—time is money."

Taking Geraldine's lead, the wardrobe girl's eyes pleaded; she didn't like this any more than Ella did. She thrust a dress into her hands. "Take this and sit down."

Ella held up the scrap of red fabric that looked like it wouldn't even fit a twelve-year-old.

Mr. Carrington was going to owe her BIG time.

#

"Hello, pretty girl."

Goosebumps shot up Ella's spine. "Mitch?"

She waited impatiently for the makeup girl to stop her fussing so that she could open her eyes. He looked great. Better than she remembered—was that even possible? Freshly showered, his hair still damp and curled at the nape of his neck, his face cleanly shaven. Ella breathed in the familiar scent of him; his aftershave weaving a spell, sending signals to all the parts of her body that might have been interested. Ella squirmed in her seat trying to ignore the sensation. Part of her wanted to pull free of the damned hairdresser, who had a chunk of her hair hooked around a curling wand, and wrap her arms around Mitch. The other part of her resolved to the fact that any further carry-on would be pointless... not to mention messy... remained composed and glued to the chair. "When did you get in?"

"Early this morning," he replied, taking her in from top to bottom; five days had been torture. "What have they roped you into?" he added, his brows knitting together curiously.

"Mr. Carrington. You made it; how nice." Geraldine had appeared at his side before Ella had a chance to answer.

"The model didn't show. Ella kindly offered to stand in for us," she gushed.

"Is that so?" Mitch's eyes danced with amusement. All the makeup in the world couldn't hide her discomfort; there was no way she would have given into doing this willingly. "Thank you, Ella. That's very generous of you."

Ella eyed him dubiously; she knew... that he knew... this was not her idea of fun. "You are welcome," she answered just as sweetly.

"Hello—waiting!" the photographer interrupted, hollering from the top of the stairs; his arm waving in the air, fingers clicking impatiently. The venue and food had been snapped; now he wanted the talent seated at the table—pronto. With the okay nod from the makeover team, Ella grabbed her dress and shimmied down from the tall chair to get dressed.

"What's that?" Mitch questioned.

"That, Mr. Carrington," she answered, holding up the scrap of material for him to see, "is my dress."

His eyebrows shot up, his approval obvious. Mitch was glad he had shown up when he did.

#

"It is no good!" the photographer threw up his hands in protest. "I have this woman alone—this will not do!"

Ella tried not to roll her eyes; twenty minutes of posing and now he decides she will not do!

Geraldine looked from the photographer to Ella, the table, the candle, the meal.

"He has a point," she frowned, her gaze wandering from the setting to her boss, it was his bar, the article was about him—it was a no-brainer. Geraldine smiled widely for the second time that afternoon.

"I have an idea..."

Ella covered her mouth with her hand to stop herself from laughing out loud. Mitch looked incredulous, his head shaking from side to side at the proposal.

"No, I don't think so," he protested. But no one was buying it.

Geraldine waited, hands on hips; the photographer waited; even the makeup and wardrobe girls were waiting. Mitch was still shaking his head when he caught Ella's gaze, breathtakingly beautiful and in a dress that reminded him all too much of what lay underneath. Her eyes challenged him. It was enough for Mitch to cave; he figured if she had to do this, then so could he. He sauntered over to the table.

"Okay, you win. Where do you want me?"

#

The table before them was set flawlessly; the cutlery gleamed under the lights; the cloth napkins folded just so, and the food, although now cold, looked picture perfect. It may have been early afternoon, but Ella couldn't help herself; she took a sip from the wine glass to calm her nerves. Having Mitch sitting opposite had placed an entirely new spin on things.

He grinned and followed suit; this wasn't so bad after all. He'd wanted to share a glass of wine with Ella all week, audience aside of course.

"Lean in more... good... that's good." The photographer issued his commands. "Look this way. Turn that way. Head up."

This was not Ella's idea of a fun day at the office.

"Look please into each other's eyes—as if you are in love." The photographer's accented instruction hung heavily between them.

Ella cringed... err... no. Lust she could do, in fact, lust was exactly what they had been doing. . The other 'L' word was an entirely different matter. Ella took another sip; she didn't want to do this... she... could... not... do... this. Mitch's hand edged across the table; he winked conspiratorially and gently squeezed her hand.

Shyly she raised her gaze to his—the man who couldn't be trusted—the man who shouldn't have been missed. But he had, more than she cared to admit, her resolve undoing just a little when he smiled at her like that, his head cocking ever so slightly. Ella fidgeted with the tablecloth; he was so much better at this than her. Willing herself to stay put, she knew she had to finish what she'd started, otherwise suffer Geraldine's wrath. So they had to make eyes at each other—big deal—they were adults, she could handle it. If she could just concentrate on the job as requested it would be over soon enough. Besides, nothing they did would change anything. Ella had booked her flight home.

"More... lean closer..." The photographer urged his subjects still further, desperate to capture his vision. "Closer... yes... yes..."

Perhaps it was the five days of solitude, perhaps the fact that she knew it would soon all come to an end—or perhaps it was simply the wine, already gone to her head. Whichever route it was, Ella got there, giving everyone what they wanted. She fell, wholeheartedly sinking under Mitch's spell, her entire being given over to the sensation, the coercion from the photographer now merely noise outside her head. Despite the room full of onlookers, despite that she knew better, Ella gazed back into the familiar golden depths, the very same ones she had drowned in so many times before, and for that moment—for that second—she could pretend.

Click.

"YES!" The photographer was appeased. Applause broke out. 

# CHAPTER ELEVEN

The final minutes passed in a blur, but thankfully, when they'd finished, Geraldine was quick to corner Mitch, while Ella was whisked off by the beauty team to the makeshift dressing room. Gladly changing back into her own clothes, she thanked them for their joint efforts. Quietly and without fuss, she snuck out a side door before anyone noticed—she needed the fresh air.

What just happened in there? Where exactly did all her resolve go—seriously hopeless! Holding her face up to the afternoon sun, she closed her eyes for a brief second and relished the gentle breeze on her burning cheeks. What were they doing—both of them? Mitch was just as guilty for playing along with this game... think that you are in love. Hah!

Grateful she had somewhere else to be, Ella waited for a break in the traffic before ducking across the road. She had an overnight bag to pack and a train to catch... and who was she kidding... she wanted to get away before Mitch came looking for her. She hadn't expected him to be there today, let alone in that predicament. Ella wasn't prepared; she didn't know how to be. He seemed so pleased to see her, like he genuinely missed her. Argh! Ella shook off her silly romantic notions... hello, reality check... she scolded herself; even if he did, it didn't change matters. Her flight for home was in three days' time, and that was that. Like it or not, soon Mitch Carrington would once again be designated to the distant memory banks in her head.

#

Turning the key in the lock, Ella entered the suite of the five-star boutique hotel she would be reviewing, at precisely the same time the landline in the room sounded. Letting the door fall closed behind her, she dashed the few short steps to the phone and picked it up.

"So this is where you ran off to."

Ella's heart skipped a beat. Mitch? She bit down on her lip self-consciously. He'd found her, no doubt thanks to Geraldine.

"Hi," she replied sheepishly into the receiver. The more mature thing to do would have been to say a goodbye properly before disappearing this afternoon, but she hadn't. "Sorry I couldn't hang back. I had this job..." Her words trailed off; denial was pointless really. They both knew there would have been ample time for good manners. She changed the subject instead.

"So, how was Hobart?"

Mitch wasn't buying. He was not a man accustomed to women running away from him—and nor did he like it.

"Hobart was fine, thank you. But we're not going to talk about Hobart, Ella."

Damn it, he'd wanted to throw her over his shoulder, march up the stairs to his room, slam the door, and continue where they'd left off. But by the time Geraldine had finished in his ear, Ella was nowhere in sight. "Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?"

Yes, good question. Ella exhaled. If only it were that simple. She scooped up the welcome cocktail that had been left for her on the buffet and took a much-needed mouthful, picking her words carefully. It was hard to define what she was feeling, this exhausting tug of war between her head and her... her... libido?

"This afternoon was pretty intense," she answered finally, wandering over to the glass doors and stepping out onto her balcony. The fresh air should have made it easier for her to think straight, yet she was still struggling. "You know I have to leave soon, Mitch. I've thought about it, and it's pointless for us to carry on."

He was silent. She was silent. The words hung heavily between them.

"I presume you mean leave to return to San Diego?"

"I have to," Ella answered softly, as if it would hurt less spoken this way.

"Kit wants to sell the park. I have to go home—"

"Kit?" Mitch cut her off, his tone turning brusque. "What about you—what do you want?"

"Me? What do I want?" To not have this conversation, for one thing, Ella thought honestly. She gazed out over the ocean as the late-afternoon sun began to dip; her head leaning against the frame of the French door, the receiver pressed to her other ear. If they didn't live oceans apart; if there weren't the fact of their tainted history and no one else mattered—what would she want?

"Mitch... I... don't want things to get complicated. We had our fun... but this afternoon was... awkward."

Mitch was running out of time. He could feel her slipping away, and he cursed under his breath. Hobart had cost him valuable time; he would have to step up his plans. She apparently hadn't realized it yet, but there was no way in hell he was letting her get away from him again; the last week had cemented that fact. She belonged with him.

"What are you doing now, Ella?"

"You mean besides talking to you?"

He laughed softly, the sharp edge to his tone now gone. "Yes, aside from speaking to me. What do you intend to do with yourself tonight?"

She stepped back inside her room, glancing about the sumptuous suite. "I'm not sure." As gorgeous as the room was, hiding out alone wasn't as enticing as she'd originally anticipated. All well and fine if Mitch had still been on the other side of the country... not so fine knowing he was just on the other side of town... on the other end of this line. Funny thing about breathing space, once you have it, you're not exactly sure what to do with it, or if, in fact, you even want it.

"What about you, what are you doing tonight?" she asked unable to help herself.

There was a pause before he answered, the slip not going unnoticed.

"I might have plans."

"Oh," Ella slumped down onto the bed swallowing the lump in her throat, "of course." He had been away for almost a week... he would have things to do... people to see.

"I think I'll have an early night. I'm worn out. Being a model is tiring work, you know." She tried vainly to make her joke stick.

Mitch didn't laugh. "In that case, I will order you something special from their cellars if you're staying in."

She frowned. It was a sweet gesture, although, if she were honest, she didn't know if it would do the trick and cheer her up right now.

"Thank you, Mitch, but seriously, there's no need. The hotel is laying it on pretty thick as it is. I'll get a glass with dinner."

"Humor me," he insisted.

Ella kicked off her heels and lay back on the mattress, resigned to her fate. There was supposed to be a spa bath somewhere in this place; if she could find it, that's where she would spend her evening; if he wanted to order her a bottle, then what the heck.

"Okay, Mitch," she conceded, "if you like." All the better to drown her sorrows.

#

"Mitch!" Ella jumped, her heart leaping in her chest at the same time. They had only just said goodbye, the receiver still warm in her hand, and now here he was in the flesh standing at her door. "What are you doing here?"

He held up a chilled bottle and two glasses. "You don't mind, do you?"

She had done her utmost to avoid him this afternoon, so his uncertainty was justified; no, she didn't mind. Ella backed up making space for him to enter. "I thought you had plans..."

He placed the bottle and glasses down, freeing his hands. He reached out and pulled her to him, placing one finger to her lips—silencing her. "You were my plans, Ella. I just had to make sure you weren't going anywhere. I drove down after Geraldine informed me of your whereabouts, and I've been waiting downstairs."

Oh. Ella blushed. No, she wouldn't be going anywhere, not tonight, and especially not now.

Taking his finger away, he dipped his head, placing his lips to hers hungrily; the assault forceful and yet soft at the same time. Ella swayed, sure her heart was going to pound right out of her chest.

After a very sound greeting, he let her go, his hand lingering on the small of her back for a moment before he shifted his focus to the task of filling their crystal flutes.

Ella used the moment to regain her composure. He was acting as if nothing had changed, picking up right from where they left off a week ago—at this rate, if she weren't careful he would have her naked within the hour. She smoothed down her dress and took a deliberate step away from his imposing bulk. She had been wise to run from this man because clearly she possessed very little willpower in his presence.

"Nice digs," Mitch noted appreciatively, handing Ella her glass.

"It is," she agreed, following his gaze around the room. They both stalled over the bed. It was hard to ignore; the king-size ensemble dominated the room—a bed that size was built for more than simply sleeping. Mitch raised his eyes to Ella, a questioning gleam in their depths. She blushed; she had seen that look before, and knew all too well what followed after. Ella squared her shoulders—it was time for that conversation.

"Mitch... we need to talk."

He nodded. "I agree; we do."

She was impressed that he wasn't shying away—the floor was hers. Deciding to keep her distance, she sat on the end of the bed facing him, gathering her thoughts as she did so. She needed to make sense of her decision as much for herself as for Mitch. Home was on the other side of the world where she had commitments and family; both of which needed to be sorted out, and aside from that, their history simply wouldn't allow them to be anything more. Mitch stood, leaning against the back of the two-seater, his legs crossed casually at the ankles. He was giving her his full attention, waiting for her to start.

"So... As I said on the phone, I have to leave in a few days..."

Mitch didn't flinch; every muscle held rigidly.

"Yes, about that. You need to extend it a little, Ella; you've forgotten we have the launch on the weekend."

"Launch—what launch?" She knew nothing about a launch.

He took a slow swig from his glass, watching her digest the information; his plan to buy time was already underway. Laura wanted her promotion—she was about to earn it. He wasn't usually one for a fuss; the bars didn't need them. If you had a good venue and staff, top shelf drinks and food, the people would come. But this time, he needed a ruse. With Geraldine on board, a launch was being masterminded and thrown together for the end of the week.

"You have to be there."

"But..." Ella was speechless, racking her brain for any reference to a launch. No—nothing. She shook her head. "But I can't, Mitch; my flight is booked. It's sealed."

"Book another one," his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "I'll cover it."

Ella's brow furrowed. So much for best-laid plans. Here she thought she'd been in control of this situation.

"Kit is expecting me." She had left a message that she would be home by the weekend. They would speak then.

"I am sure a couple of days won't make any difference to your brother, Ella. The magazine is out this weekend with your story. The dining room is opening; you have to be there to celebrate, and that's that."

Would another few days matter? No, she supposed not. She would phone Kit again to let him know.

"Okay, I guess if it means that much, I'll be there."

And just like that, their ending was sorted. They had bartered a satisfactory exodus, a parting of ways... no blood spilled... no tears. Her leaving hadn't in the end been an issue, just as long as she showed up at his launch; following that, she had a first-class ticket all the way home. Ella heaved a sigh, although she wasn't convinced it was one of relief. They sat silently; both digesting what had been laid bare, her trying not to ruminate on just how easy it was in the end. Now that apparently both parties were equally and adequately appeased, there was only one more little thing to decipher. What exactly did they do with themselves in the meantime, or more precisely, right now... in... this... room? Could this be as effortlessly wrapped up? Ella rubbed the palms of her hands on her thighs; it was getting hot in here. The evening breeze had ceased, and the room suddenly felt clammy. She stood to turn down the heat, then, careful not to make contact, took Mitch's glass from him to refill.

"So what about us?" she questioned, her back turned. "Still friends?"

Friends? Mitch knew damn well he didn't entertain the thoughts he had about Ella with friends.

"Is that what we are Ella—just friends?"

She looked over her shoulder at him, frowning, uncertain of their label herself. It was the million-dollar question—friends with benefits? A warm tingle of anticipation shot down her spine as soon as the thought materialized. Oh, behave yourself she chastised, silently willing herself to concentrate on the task at hand.

"I don't want any hard feelings that's all. We had a fling and..."

Mitch's eyes narrowed, bemused. "A fling?"

Ella handed his drink back, careful to keep her eyes averted. "It is what it is."

Mitch pushed himself away from the sofa, his athletic frame standing tall. She tensed as he stepped toward her, her senses heightened. He didn't miss her reaction; he stopped short, his head cocked curiously.

"Do I make you nervous, Ella?"

Ella shook her head. "No," she lied miserably.

"I came to see you, nothing more," he answered simply. "I intended to take you out to dinner—that is if you were interested."

Ella forced a smile in his direction, although food was the last thing on her mind right now. "It's just..." She shrugged, "I wanted it to be clear. I'm leaving."

He took another step forward, catching her arm. "So you keep saying," his voice whispered low in her ear, so close it gave her goose bumps. "If you are that intent on leaving, then what's a bit of fun between friends, right?"

She looked into his eyes; the light and dark of the golden pools stared back. He knew what he wanted—did she? Ella's body trembled. It was as basic as it got. Man wants to have sex with girl, there was no denying it, and she had already agreed hadn't she—enjoying it royally at that. Ella sucked in her breath; she was already in so deep it wasn't funny. There would be no tears, tears were for something more, but more apparently didn't exist in this scenario, a figment of her imagination—a fairy tale. She would do well to know the difference. Could she do it? A few more days, four or five at the most, then it would be over for good. By the end of the week, she would simply take her messy self back to the States and deal with the fallout there.

"I don't feel like going out to dinner, Mitch."

Her words hung in the air, suspended on the current crackling between them. Mitch eyed her cautiously; one wrong move could see her run out on him again. He needed her to want this as much as he did.

"Okay... what were you thinking?"

"Don't you have a plan B?" she murmured coyly

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He pulled her gently to him, tucking her hair back from her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. "Now that you mention it, there was this one other thing I was thinking we could do..." 

# CHAPTER TWELVE

Mitch was nowhere to be seen when Ella woke the next morning. Disoriented, she sat up rubbing her eyes and pulled the sheets around her. Their champagne flutes abandoned on the bedside table, bubbles now flat, and clothes discarded on the floor, were a not so subtle reminder of their evening. To say that she had succumbed to Mitch's charms was an understatement. Ella had reveled in them, her skin still flushed with the attention she'd received.

She stretched languidly and reached for her mobile next to the bed, amazed she felt so damn good for someone who had barely slept. Oddly, the evening's antics had left her invigorated rather than exhausted. There was a message from Mitch. He'd ducked out to get them breakfast. Ella smiled; fresh pastries from a local bakery sounded perfect. Mitch seemed to have accepted the terms of their liaison, a conclusion they had reached last night. As two consenting adults who could not keep their hands off each other, they would make the most of what time they had left, without any expectations. Knowing the rules from the outset meant the fallout would be lessened—because there would be fallout. It was inevitable; she was just wired that way... her heart always got involved in the end. But she'd conceded she would manage that when the time came. Mitch hadn't said much more on the subject, but then again, Ella smiled coyly, throwing the sheets back to head for the shower—he had been rather busy.

#

"Aren't you going to answer it?" Mitch looked from the ringing phone to Ella.

They were seated on the balcony finishing off their coffee. She had seen who was on the other end of the line, and she had absolutely no intention of answering it. Now was not a good time to speak with her brother. She flicked her mobile to silent and placed it back on the small table.

"Hmm... no. I'll ring back later."

"I don't mind, Ella; if it's important, I can go inside. I have a couple of calls to make anyway."

"No, it's fine," she said adamantly, cutting him a little shorter than was intended.

Mitch's brows rose at the sudden change in her tone. Then it dawned on him. "Kit?"

Ella popped the last bit of pastry in her mouth so she wouldn't have to answer straight away. Taking her sweet time, she eventually finished. She looked over the top of her takeaway cup at Mitch. "Yes," she admitted.

"You haven't told him about us, have you?"

Ella shook her head slowly from side to side. "No. Not really."

He laughed softly. "Not really—or not at all?"

Ella placed her coffee down, eyeballing him "And what would you suggest I say?"

Having earth-shattering sex with the man her sibling disliked the most... quite possibly in the entire world... was not something she felt she needed to share.

"In case you've forgotten, you are not my brother's favorite person." Ella hung her head. "I feel like I'm betraying him as it is. He doesn't need to know we are..." her words trailed off, and she shrugged. "He doesn't need to know about us, that's all," she finished flatly.

Mitch was silent. He didn't like seeing her torn like this. He'd been so set on what he wanted, he hadn't thought too hard about what effect this might have on her relationship with Kit. He was all the family she had. Sure there was bad blood between them, but it had nothing to do with Ella. He stood up, kissing the top of her head.

"Wait a minute." Ella reached for his hand, stopping him from leaving. "Don't go." With a gentle tug, she pulled him back toward her, not wanting this between them. "Tell me, what would have been the point—what could I have said?"

She was right, what could she say? As far as they were concerned, he was a son of a bitch; neither of them knew the truth. If this was going to work, he needed to speak to Kit himself and clear it up. He crouched down so they were at eye level.

"I get it Ella; it's okay."

She smiled sadly, reaching to trace her finger over the small scar on his handsome face, the face that had haunted her dreams so many times, now familiar once again.

"Will you ever tell me what happened that night?"

He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her fingertips one by one. "It was just bloke stuff; that's all."

"Bloke stuff, huh?" She smiled wistfully at the Aussie term. "Is that really all I'm going to get?"

"That's it," he replied as he stood up and took her hand as he did. "It's time to go."

Sighing, she placed her hand in his; maybe it was better she didn't know. She let him pull her to her feet.

"Go where?"

Mitch grinned. "Miss Jackson, you are going to like what I have in store for you. It involves a very large boat, an island, fine food, and if you're up for it, more champagne."

Ella looped her arms around his neck, happy that lightness had returned to their morning.

"We're spending the whole day together?"

He kissed her soundly. "We are. And if you play your cards right, I might hang around for the evening."

Ella rolled her eyes. "Were you always this funny, Mr. Carrington?"

"Yes, I was." Mitch laughed. "Don't you remember?"

A warm fuzzing feeling came over Ella. Yes—it was all coming back to her.

#

After a whirlwind twenty-four hours, Ella was once again alone in her apartment. She had set up at her dining room table: her laptop, her notes, and her phone. Mitch had left early. Following his week away in Hobart, he had business to follow up and so had left her to her own devices, with a promise to meet later for dinner. It suited Ella as she had her own work to do, and if she were honest, she needed the time alone to catch her breath. As much as she enjoyed being with Mitch, too much of this particular good thing only made it hard. Ella needed the break to keep their arrangement in perspective. It took her a couple of hours of concentrated effort to complete the final copy of her review. She leaned back in her chair stretching out the kinks from her neck, attached the file with her work, and sent it on its way to Geraldine. She made a cup of tea and tried again to reach Kit, but her brother wasn't answering, so she left a message letting him know she would be delayed. Then to cover all bases, she also sent an email reiterating the fact. Ella had yet to decide what they were going to do about selling their property. Could she let it go? It was her home. The entire scenario still made her sick to her stomach. She would have to hash it out with Kit when she got home.

Next, Ella diverted her attention to her inbox. A reply had come back from Metro's office already. Ella opened the message; her editor-in-chief's appreciation was conveyed in a single sentence with an attachment marked urgent. Curious, she clicked on it. Geraldine had been generous enough to send her the short-listed photos from Sunday's shoot. Stunningly gorgeous images flashed full-screen in front of her. For all his fussing and carry-on, the photographer was obviously worth the pain—these were good. But most striking of all was the last of the four.

Her fingers hovered nervously over the keypad, the picture sitting idle on her screen holding her riveted. Something in her chest tugged... her heart? Ella swallowed... and here she'd thought she had it all sorted. There, plain as day for the entire world to see, was Mitch, gazing across the table, his eyes locked on the female figure, fingers touching, bodies leaning in. The shutter had snapped in that magical moment, the seconds before their lips had touched. Ella recoiled, her back pressed hard into the small wooden chair, her mouth falling open. The woman in the picture, the one in the very small red dress, was, of course, her—staring back with exactly the same intensity. The camera doesn't lie.

Shamefully, Ella's first instinct was to stab at the delete button, to erase the telltale image. But deleting it was pointless. She knew beyond any doubt that this was the photo the magazine would use. By the end of the week, it would be printed in the thousands and distributed across the entire country.

Lucky she would be on her way home and would not have to witness it. 

# CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The week passed in a flurry of dates and late nights. After spending long days together, their evenings would find them, more often than not, wrapped in each other's arms. If they didn't fall asleep from sheer exhaustion following their amorous efforts, they would lay awake till morning, talking in whispers until the sunlight streaked in through the blinds. Ella tried not to think too hard about what was happening; choosing to simply enjoy what it was while they could.

After spending most of her Friday morning trawling the shops for the perfect pair of shoes to go with her dress, she was happy to finally sit down when she arrived at the hairdressers. After six months of low maintenance, her hair was in dire need of some TLC, and that is exactly what it got. An hour and a half later, she walked out of the salon feeling like one of those girls from a commercial; her hair glossy and set in effortless waves falling loosely over her shoulders. She wanted to feel beautiful—it was their last night. The launch party was well under way when she arrived fashionably late. Ella followed the red carpet from the curb all the way to the front doors and checked her name off the VIP list. The interior looked amazing. The original polished concrete floors had an extra shine to them tonight, set off by the slick high-end steel and glass of the back bar. The dark wood of the staircase leading up to the new dining area had been highlighted by strategically placed lights, drawing guests up the stairs. They lent a sense of theatrics to the evening. She knew Mitch had spent months planning the upgrade, not to mention the headaches and money implementing it all, but from what she could see, it was worth it. The Establishment had gone up another notch.

#

Ella gravitated toward the bar, looking around the room as she moved; sidestepping through the crowd, hoping to see at least one of the few familiar faces that she did know. A private smile tugged at her lips when she ordered her drink, the complimentary bubbles placed in front of her on the solid wooden surface. She blushed; her illicit adventures on this very top brought vividly to mind.

Absorbed in her habit of people watching, Ella jumped just a little when a muscled arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back against a hard body. Knowing instantly it was Mitch, her hand slid over his. "Well hello, Mr. Carrington," she drawled over her shoulder.

Mitch nuzzled her ear, the intimate endearment in public making her color with delight. They had spent the best part of the entire week in each other's company. Still, to date, most of their activities had been private—just the two of them or behind closed doors. This exhibition of intimacy in public was as intoxicating as it was unexpected.

"You look beautiful, Ella," Mitch whispered, sending a delicious tingle down her spine. He'd seen her walk in. The languid gold material of her dress had been mesmerizing against her skin, the way it cascaded over her curves with each step. Ella was breathtaking. He had felt secretly smug; that was until he realized that every straight man in the room had been as equally captivated. His ego had received the cautionary slap it probably deserved. As much as he and Ella were together in one sense of the word, there was still a way to go. "So, are you ready to leave?"

"What!" she giggled, spinning around to face him, her hands resting on the lapels of his dark jacket. What a sight he was—white shirt fitted across his broad chest, the navy thread of the suit, jaw smooth and freshly shaven. He was impeccable. Ella sighed inwardly, drinking him in. "You can't run away yet; this is your night."

Mitch shrugged, indifferent to the fuss. It was all a charade, a plausible reason to keep her here longer. He motioned for the staff to fix him a drink. "That may be the case, still, when you're ready we're out of here, okay?" he said with a wink.

Ella nodded. It was a tempting offer—she knew exactly what was waiting for her once they left. But she was okay for now, enjoying the moment, imprinting it into her memory—every bit of it.

#

They circulated among the crowd, Mitch making light conversation and taking a mental note of names and faces, pumping hands, but keeping hold of hers with the other. Finally, they came across someone who Ella actually knew—Geraldine, who was resplendent in designer garb from top to toe.

"Ella, hello. Don't you look lovely tonight."

Ella smiled warmly. "Thank you, Geraldine—likewise."

"Good turnout," Geraldine enthused. Without missing a beat, she plucked a fresh glass of wine from a passing waiter and turned toward Mitch. "Happy?"

He nodded, holding his glass up to her in a salute-like fashion. "Thanks to you."

She waved off the praise modestly. "You have that nice young Laura to thank for the legwork."

Mitch took the hint on board. Yes, Laura had worked her butt off. There was a position coming up, and he would look closely at it being hers.

"So I hope you liked the photos?" Geraldine focused her attention back in Ella's direction.

She choked. Oh... the photos. Lost for words, Ella could only smile politely and nod. "Uh-huh," was the best she could manage.

Clearly, the older woman had been expecting a more enthusiastic response. Her gaze lowered as she looked from the hapless Ella to Mitch. "Well, at least I know you did," she said with a dry laugh.

Mitch watched the color drain from Ella's face—and he knew why. The images were very telling.

"I did," he acknowledged, "and there was one I particularly liked..."

"Err... If you will excuse me for a moment," Ella cut in before either of them had a chance to draw her into the discussion again, "I might go and powder my nose." She squeezed Mitch's hand and made a run for it, ignoring his amused expression.

#

"Ella!"

Ella had been hiding out upstairs, taking her time having a look at the dining room. It was stunning, and less crowded than the main bar downstairs. Hearing her name called from across the room, she scanned the faces until she noticed Laura heading straight for her, her expression anxious.

"Someone's asking for you downstairs."

Ella put her glass down. "Mitch?"

"No." Laura shook her head, unnerved "Some guy. He's still at the front, but he's not on the guest list so we can't let him in. He's refusing to leave until he speaks to you."

Ella was completely lost. "Who is it?" She didn't know anyone else in this entire city.

Laura shrugged. "That's why I came to find you. Or... maybe I should get Mitch?"

"No, don't get Mitch, not yet," Ella implored, a sense of foreboding suddenly washing over her. "I'll come down now." Gathering her dress to her, she followed Laura down the staircase and to the entrance, her mind racing a million miles an hour—which was only a fraction faster than her heartbeat.

#

Kit? Ella couldn't believe her eyes. Standing on the red carpet, but unable to get past the two burly doormen, was her brother. Her heart lurched in her chest, with both happiness and dread at the same time. What was he doing here? Ella hurried out through the doors and looped her arm through his, pulling him aside.

"Kit!" She hugged him warmly. "I can't believe it."

He stepped back, holding her at arm's length, looking her up and down. "It's been six months... good to see you, little sis!"

Ella smiled widely, although still in shock he was actually standing before her in the flesh. His hair was cut short emphasizing his handsome features, and he looked fit and strong. Whatever he'd been doing while she was away clearly agreed with him.

"What are you doing here? Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

Kit shrugged his broad shoulders easily. "I was over this way on business. I got your message you were delayed, so I hung back. I did try to call you, but you don't answer your phone much these days. So I thought I'd surprise you—we can fly back together."

Business? Ella couldn't fathom what business he would have on this side of the globe. From San Diego to Australia... especially Perth... was not a trip taken without good reason. She had a feeling she was missing something but couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"So, how did you know I was here?" the thought only just occurring to her.

Kit shrugged evasively. "Now that you wouldn't believe." He winked, giving nothing away.

Ella felt her private world tilt—there was definitely something amiss. She glanced nervously over her shoulder at the entry, praying Mitch was so busy networking he wouldn't notice how long she'd been gone and come looking for her.

"Don't let me keep you from your party."

Her attention swung back to her brother. "What? No! It's nothing really. I can go. We should go, so much to talk about—right?"

Kit laughed, shaking his head at the same time. "Not yet, Ella; it's early. I think I'd like to go inside."

Ella looped her arm through his again trying vainly to move him. "No, seriously; let's go home. I'm so happy to see you. I can show you my place. . ." Her words trailed off, swept up with the music coming from behind the double doors of The Establishment. But the mountain would not move. Her kind, loving, stubborn brother had something on his mind, and she had a sinking feeling she knew what it was.

"What are you hiding in there, Ella; anything I should know about?" Kit's eyes narrowed. Ella flinched. Yes, the gig was up. Her world had more than tilted—it had just flipped one-eighty degrees.

"Don't be silly." She tried to make light, hoping beyond hope her assumption was wrong. "Nothing important—let's go." She wanted to pull him after her down the street or hail a cab, anything to get the hell out of there. But Kit felt like stone, solid and unmoving. There was no way he was going anywhere until he was good and ready. His attention had moved beyond her.

Ella didn't need to turn around to know why.

#

"Mitch Carrington. So it is you."

He dragged his gaze back to his sister. Ella recoiled. Ouch—no words required.

"Kit," Mitch replied, his tone level.

He stepped from the doorway and to Ella's side, his hand loosely resting on the small of her back. It was not a gesture that Kit missed or liked. Ella squirmed uncomfortably when her brother shot her another disbelieving look, the past playing out across his face all over again, betrayal etched deeply. Instinctively, she stepped away out of Mitch's reach trying to remain neutral, but it was hopeless; the damage had been done. Ella couldn't look at either of the men—the only two people in the world who meant anything to her and she had managed to hurt them both.

"So it is true." Kit spoke first, breaking the silence; his words loaded with resentment. "This is why you've been avoiding me?"

Panicked, Ella shook her head. She knew her brother had a temper, and she knew that in most cases, at least, he managed to keep it in check. She was just pretty sure this wasn't going to be one of those cases.

"No Kit... it's not what you think," she choked out, "it's nothing."

Mitch cleared his throat from behind her. Ella swirled around, wishing instantly she could take her words back. Mitch was the polar opposite to her fiery sibling. A master of control, he stood stock still—muscles tightly coiled, his composure reined. But Ella knew better. A sob escaped her; she pleaded silently for him to understand.

"Mitch... I..." He meant more to her than she dared to admit, but what could she say.

"Kit, you're welcome to come in." Mitch stepped aside, a single glance at the doormen, and they followed their employer's lead, unhitching the roped-off area to the VIP entry. "I'll get you a drink. We can talk."

Ella held her breath... an olive branch. But would her brother take it? She watched him, tall and proud in the shadowed lights—and about to explode. No chance.

Kit shook his head and all but laughed in Mitch's face. "You've got to be joking," he spat out, then glared at Ella. "Let's go."

Accustomed to doing what her brother told her, Ella automatically went to move—then hesitated. She couldn't let it end like this. Ella may not have liked it, but she knew what she had to do. That decision had already been agonized over and made—still, it had to be done the right way. She stood her ground.

"Kit, I need to speak to Mitch first. I'll get you the keys to my place, and you can go ahead. I'll be there soon. When you've calmed down, I will explain everything."

"I'm about as calm as I'll ever be, little sister, if this is anything like I think it is," Kit threw back at her. Ella winced; her brother's mood was about as black as the sky above them.

Mitch had been courteous up until that point, but he stepped forward again—the deep timbre of his voice cutting.

"Ella has done nothing wrong."

Kit looked at Mitch scornfully. "You seem to have trouble keeping your hands off what's mine."

Mitch laughed lowly, but it wasn't in a funny kind of way. His shoulders squared, his fists clenching until his knuckles turned white. "Ella does not belong to you."

NO! Ella wanted to scream. This wasn't supposed to happen. "Both of you stop this!" she pleaded, standing between them, her voice splintered.

There was quiet, but only for a moment. Kit looked at her coldly. "I'll find my own place to stay for the night."

"No, Kit! Please..." Ella begged, "... you don't understand..." She stopped talking then, her words lost on the wind. Kit had already turned his back and walked away. 

# CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ella watched until her brother had all but disappeared down the street, swallowed up by the revelers crowding the streets on another night out in the city. She didn't have to worry about him, not in that way; he was big and tough enough to look out for himself. But he shouldn't have been alone.

She turned back to Mitch; he hadn't moved. He was watching her silently, his broad shoulders still set, his expression guarded. The Establishment lit up behind him, the new and improved addition to his kingdom a shining success. It should have been a night of celebration. Ella couldn't hold back her tears any longer.

#

As if on cue, the heavens chose that exact moment to open up; the ominous clouds that had hovered for most of the day unleashing their load. Mitch ran the few short steps he needed to reach Ella, who hadn't budged; her hair wet, her dress soaked to her skin, goose bumps from the cold wind peppering her limbs. Shrugging out of his jacket, he wrapped it around her and pulled her to him... shielding her the best he could until her sobs subsided.

He tilted her face to his and wiped the smudges from under her eyes, the sadness in their depths wreaking havoc with his heart. "We need to get out of this weather, Ella," he said softly and tugged at her gently, lifting her into his arms.

#

They entered through the private entry at the rear of the building. It was oddly quiet inside. His suite of rooms were attached to the bar, both upstairs and down, and yet the commotion of the festivities literally right next door was almost non-existent.

"Soundproofing," Mitch answered her silent question, turning on the lights as they entered, "when we renovated, I had the entire place done... decorated as well." Although he was struggling to summon up any enthusiasm for the space at that particular moment. He drew Ella to one of the leather stools at the kitchen counter and forced her to sit, peeling his damp jacket from her shoulders and replacing it with a throw from the back of the lounge.

Ella smiled briefly, the corners of her mouth managing the effort it took for a few seconds. "It's amazing," she offered sincerely. It was— just like Mitch. After what had just happened she didn't deserve his care.

He shrugged indifferently, moving around to the other side of the counter and taking two glasses from an overhead cabinet. "It'll do. Don't know how often I'll be here yet."

He set the tumblers on the stone counter between them and poured them both a stiff drink, as much for the warmth the amber spirit would provide as anything else. He pushed one across to Ella.

Gratefully, she took a sip, the smooth liquid tracing a heated path down her throat. "It looks like summer is well and truly over," she murmured placing the glass back down. The double meaning to her words not lost on either of them.

Mitch eyed her protectively. "Don't let the rain fool you."

Ella reached across the island counter, her hand pushing his wet hair back and caressing the contours of his handsome face. "Thank you," she whispered, "and sorry... ."

Mitch shook his head slowly, deliberately, turning her hand in his and kissing the inside of her palm, his breath warm. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"But," Ella protested, "maybe I should go home. Kit might have come to his senses and calmed down... I will explain..."

Mitch added another nip to his glass, and hers. "Kit won't be coming to his senses tonight, Ella. Tomorrow when we are all more clearheaded we will work this out."

She bit the inside of her lip, her stomach twisting at the thought. Tomorrow—she hadn't told him.

"You need to get out of those wet clothes." He stood, coming around to her side and pulling her to her feet. He caught the hem of her dress, still soaked through, and gently peeled it up over her head. "You'll catch a cold if you stay in this."

"I shouldn't be here at all," Ella murmured, more to herself. Realizing she couldn't do messy and complicated as well as she thought. Hell—she couldn't do them at all.

Mitch dropped the wet garment onto the counter and began to unbutton his own. His shirt plastered to his torso was soaked through. "Forget it." His tone was adamant. "You can sleep in the spare room if you must, Ella, but you are not spending the night alone in your apartment, and that is final."

It was pouring with rain outside, and she was standing stripped down to her underwear in this man's kitchen. Ella didn't feel in a position to argue. Resigned, she sighed watching him from behind lowered lashes... and nor did she want to. She stepped forward, wondering vaguely when it had happened... when had her heart decided it belonged to him? Her hand moved behind her back, easily undoing the delicate clasp of her bra. She was starting to think that maybe it always had. Ella let her bra fall to the floor.

#

Mitch's gaze climbed from the slip of satin on the wooden flooring between them and traveled upward, over the golden curves of her body to her face. His heart gripped at what he saw in her eyes. He finished peeling the wet shirt from his shoulders and tossed it aside, his gaze never once leaving hers.

"Ella?"

She reached out to him, taking his hand; he was the only thing that made sense right now, the calm in her storm. Ella needed to feel him over her, under her, next to her, and finally... inside her.

"I don't want to sleep in the spare room tonight, Mitch." Ella didn't want to sleep at all.

#

Mitch laid her gently on his bed. Removing what was left of their clothes, he lay down beside her. Ella pressed herself against him, her urgency and need overwhelming for so many reasons. Her legs wrapped around his waist bringing him to her. Mitch smiled, his eyes heavy. He placed her hands in his and pinned them back against the mattress. "Patience..." he growled warmly; he wanted to remember tonight more than any other night... she was finally his; he had seen it in those emerald depths. Mitch marveled at the beauty of the creature before him, flushed rose to her cheeks, capturing his very soul. He kissed her lips soundly then slowly shifted his attention downward, worshiping every inch of her body as he went. One broad hand spanned the flat plane of her stomach, his other slipping between the silky folds of her center. Ella whimpered, the sensitive bud of nerves swelling with pleasure under his touch, her nails digging into his shoulders. She clawed shamelessly as he drew her to him, her legs parting of their own accord, welcoming his intimate exploration.

When she could take no more, Mitch stopped his sweet torture and rolled her over so she was on top of him. He held her poised above his shaft. Ella smiled, a slow seductive smile, decidedly happy to now be the tormentor. Straddling him, she moved her hips just so—the provocative rocking teasing him mercilessly. A guttural moan escaped him; he clasped a firm hand on either side of her slim hips, holding her still. "I know what you're up to," he growled, before taking back control. In one swift movement, he brought her weight down hard on top of him, piercing her. Ella gasped out loud, his name on her lips, her head thrown back as quivering pulses of pleasure splintered through her core. Her eyes fluttered closed, her breath catching while her body adjusted to the size of him filling her completely—utterly.

Now as one, their bodies rocked, the rhythmic dance taking them higher still. Ella felt her heart swell at the exact same moment her body exploded with the sweet erotic pleasure. Fireworks filled the room, and all sense of place and time was forgotten. In that moment, Ella understood that once your heart was involved you truly felt what it meant to make love.

#

The night played over in her head like a bad movie. The full impact of what had come about now even more pronounced in the cold, hard light of day. Ella had left Mitch sleeping, slipping out of the bed when it was still dark after lying awake next to him for what felt like hours. Not wanting to leave, but knowing she had no choice. Her flight was scheduled for today. She had done as he requested and changed her booking until after the launch, and now the launch was over.

Ella had packed her belongings already, not that there was much to do. Two suitcases were all she had, representing the entirety of her existence these past six months. Who would have thought a girl could travel so light? She hadn't told Mitch she was leaving today. Up until last night, there had been no reason for her to reconsider her plans... they had made their pact and at least outwardly had seemed happy enough to accept the terms. Now—the actual leaving part was proving to be another issue altogether.

But leave, both despite and because of what had transpired, was what she knew she must do. As fate would have it, Kit would be traveling with her, which pretty much guaranteed Ella would be on that plane. She had to go; she and Kit had things to sort out. She needed to get her head around what he wanted to do, and then get her head around what she wanted. Hopefully, they could reach a decision that both of them could live with. She had a job to find, and perhaps a home as well. She had to deal with the fallout, and despite her best efforts, it would be messy. Her heart would have to find a way to deal with losing Mitch all over again. She had to get on with her life, and she had to let Mitch get on with his.

Tiptoeing, Ella gathered her clothes which had been strung to dry over the back of the stool. She dressed quietly and quickly, twisting her hair at the nape of her neck in a loose knot. She found her heels and her clutch—she was good to go. Walk out the door, don't look back. Mitch did once upon a time. Hard to believe the man she had come to know could have done that. She believed now he must have had a good reason. Ella swallowed the lump in her throat—could she?

Pulling out her invite from her bag and using it as a scrap of paper, Ella found a pen on the counter. Poised... she attempted to write the words she couldn't say. Damn it! She sobbed, leaning onto the cold hard surface and burying her face in her hands. It was the right thing to do for everyone—so why did it hurt so much?

Ella couldn't find the words. There was nothing she could say to make it better. She clutched her belongings to her, and without a backward glance, walked out the door. 

# CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Kit looked her up and down. "Hey, sis; you didn't sleep well either, huh?"

Ella was glad she arrived home before he did come knocking, but she figured her brother would not appreciate the details of her night after he left, so she let his comment slide.

"You could say that," she replied, standing aside for him to enter. "Did I give you my address?"

Kit leaned back against the breakfast bar, his arms folded over his chest, his legs crossed at his ankles. He still had on last night's clothes and smelt like a party. If his body language was anything to go by—she had a sense nothing had changed. It was going to be a very one-sided conversation.

"No, you didn't, but the bills come via me, remember," he stated flatly.

Of course, Ella realized then; all her bills did go back to him. Their parents' will had been set up to pay out an allowance, topping up anything she earned. Mitch had overseen it for as long as she could remember. Because it was so expensive, her accommodation was paid for by her allowance. She was surprised he had insisted on her weekly calls; he could have kept track of her simply by her receipts.

"Well, I'm glad you found your way," she said earnestly, pulling out a chair from the table and sitting down. "So..."

"So... ?"

Kit was being deliberately obtuse, but Ella wasn't in the mood for games; she was emotionally spent, and just wanted this to be over. "What do you want to know?"

He pulled a folded magazine from his back pocket and dropped it onto the table in front of her. "I'd like to know what this is all about. I picked it up at the airport when I flew in yesterday."

Ella looked from her brother to the copy of Metro without uttering a word. It must have literally just come out. The cover gave little away; it was striking in its simplicity, showcasing The Establishment. But she knew this wasn't the reason he was bringing it to her attention. She picked it up and flicked through the glossy pages. Yes... she was curious. She did not have to turn very far. Page twelve waved its red flag in her face. Ella caught a glimpse—it was enough. She closed the magazine.

"I told you I was doing some work for a magazine here."

He scoffed. Leaning forward he opened it back up, pressing the spine so it stayed just so. "I'll give you that. But you failed to mention the subject matter, Ella. Didn't think I might find it interesting?"

Ella shrugged. No getting around the fact; she deliberately kept it from him... they both knew that.

"I lost Mom's pen; he found it. I did him a favor. It was as simple as that."

Kit digested the information, still eyeing her broodily. He leaned forward again, flicking the page over, his finger tapping on the page for emphasis. "And what about this—another favor?"

It was that picture... Mitch and Ella at the table. Tears welled unexpectedly in her eyes. She looked away quickly, wiping them with the back of her hand. "Yes; actually it was."

Kit frowned, taken aback by her reaction—and damn pissed about it. "How long have you been seeing him, Ella?"

She sucked in her breath. Here we go. "I don't think it's relevant now..."

"How long?" he cut in.

Ella shrugged. "A few weeks."

"The entire time you've been here?"

She squirmed, "No, not the entire time." Not quite.

"Why didn't you say something?"

Why wasn't this obvious to anyone but her? She had said as much to Mitch. "Why do you think, Kit?"

He mumbled something incoherent under his breath, which Ella could only guess at. She waited for his rumblings to cease. But he hadn't finished. "Out of all the men in this country, you had to pick that one—with our history!"

Ella winced. Yes. She hung her head; what could she say in her defense? Guilty as charged. "It wasn't serious... ." the words felt like glue on her tongue.

His irritation still churning, Kit pushed himself away from the counter and paced the small room. Ella could see the cogs turning over in his head. What did he want from her? She had owned up to her misdemeanor; her lapse in judgment.

"I'm sorry, Kit; truly, I am. It wasn't our intention. It just happened... old friends..."

"Old friends!" Kit threw at her from the other side of the room.

Ella bit down on the inside of her lip. She had been trying to justify her actions since the very beginning, and she hadn't been able to come up with a good reason. She wasn't going to be able to spit one out now. She shrugged. "If it makes any difference, Mitch said there was nothing between him and Cassidy... he said it wasn't what it looked like."

Kit glowered. "And you believe that?"

Despite the fact that she had thought otherwise for years, Ella was no longer sure. "I think I do."

He sneered. "You think? He's not good for you, Ella. Wasn't then—isn't now. End of story."

She bristled. "You're too angry at the moment; it wouldn't matter what I said. We're family, and I love you, and I know you are only looking out for me, but you should have a little more faith in my judgment."

Kit pulled up short in front of her, his brow cocked. Ella could tell he was wrestling with the information... trying to find an angle that would sit well with him... but he just couldn't quite get there.

"It's over—whatever it was?" he questioned flatly.

Ella's head hurt. She couldn't bring herself to say it out loud again. She nodded wordlessly instead.

"You're getting on that plane today?"

This she could answer. "Yes."

He flipped the magazine over. End of story. "Well, we better get going then."

The subject was apparently closed.

#

Their cab pulled up at the intersection, the glowing red light halting all traffic while the pedestrians had their turn at crossing the busy street. Ella's heart was in her mouth; no more than ten feet away was The Establishment. Funny how these city streets had become so familiar to her now. She knew her way around this stretch better than anywhere. The rain had finally stopped, although the pavement, like the sky above, was still gray, which pretty much summed up how Ella was feeling. Kit had his head stuck in the morning paper. He hadn't noticed where they were—he didn't realize that it was in this very spot they had all stood last night. The Establishment looked different by day, with its bifold windows all open to the fresh air; the tables and chairs set out on the street in their allocated space. It was the midmorning rush, when coffees were king and churned out by the dozens.

Ella craned her neck; she thought she caught a glimpse of Mitch, but she couldn't be sure. Her heart skipped a beat at the prospect. Glancing quickly at the lights and then at the mass still crossing, she mentally calculated how much time she would have—could she make it? Hadn't she promised herself she wouldn't leave without saying goodbye? In a split second, Ella had the driver's attention. "I need to get out," she mouthed and pointed to the curb on the other side of the intersection. "Wait for me there."

"Ella—what the hell are you doing?" Kit put down his paper, his brow knitted in disbelief.

She didn't give her brother the chance to try and talk her out of it. "I won't be a second," she threw over her shoulder and jumped out, quickly slamming the door closed behind her.

#

Mitch was in work mode. While not exactly making the coffees or taking orders, he had his sleeves rolled up and was busy helping out; his face set in concentration. Ella took a deep breath and tentatively walked toward him.

"Mitch..."

He swiveled at the sound of her voice, smiling automatically, his eyes warm, before just as quickly glazing over, trepidation setting in. She couldn't blame him. He wiped his hands on the cloth that was hooked over his shoulder before tossing it onto the counter.

"You didn't wake me. I was going to call you later."

Ella moved toward him; she knew she didn't have long. "I... I'm leaving. Now—today. I'm... we're... on the way to the airport."

Mitch was blown away, the news winding him like a low blow to the stomach. "What?"

"I just wanted to see you... before I left."

Mitch couldn't believe what he was hearing. "No, Ella." He shook his head. Last night he had thought... . the way she looked at him... he wasn't wrong; he knew that. "Ella, this is crazy; you can't go."

A sob lodged in Ella's throat. He wasn't supposed to care this much... they had a deal. She glanced behind her, not wanting Kit to burst through the doors and start round three. She stepped forward, her hand touching his.

"Mitch. . . I have to. I... I just wanted you to know..." She bit her lip, three little words balanced precariously on the edge of her tongue. Could she really say them and then walk away? She hung her head, swallowing them down. No. She couldn't. "I just wanted to say goodbye."

Mitch's eyes blazed disbelievingly. "If this is really what you want, Ella, I will respect your decision, but I don't believe you. Let me sort this out."

Ella stepped back, "There's nothing to fix, Mitch. It was what it was. You knew that... I knew that. It was just a —"

"Don't say it!" he warned, stepping toward her, his eyes blazing. "You know it was more than a fling."

She held her hand up. If he came one step closer, Ella thought she might lose her courage. If he took her in his arms, she might never leave. Ella shook her head resolutely. Mustering all her nerve, she looked him in the eye, her heart breaking into a million pieces.

"You're wrong, Mitch. That's all it ever was." 

# CHAPTER SIXTEEN

It was late in the day. Kit found Ella sitting on the front step staring into space; a habit his little sister seemed to have mastered since their return almost a week ago. She had made it abundantly clear he was not her favorite person in the world right now, barely saying a word. Truth be known, he didn't feel particularly good about the way he'd handled himself either, although pride stopped him from admitting it. He wanted the best for Ella. It was his job to look out for her, and unless Mitch Carrington could prove himself to be that, he was not getting near her. Which, coincidentally, suited him just fine; the ten thousand miles between Perth and San Diego should just about do it.

The only hitch was, Kit thought wryly, if his plans came through, where they called home might get a hell of a lot closer.

#

Kit dropped the manila folder onto the step and sat down next to Ella. "We have an offer."

She looked at her brother, her brow drawn. "An offer?"

Kit nodded, quite pleased with himself. He was asking a hefty sum; buyers like these were not a common occurrence. "It's a good price."

Ella was aghast. "We had not agreed our family property was even for sale yet!"

It was Kit's turn to squirm. Yes, there was that small matter. "It's only an offer, Ella," he muttered, heaving himself up. "I'll leave it for you to look over. Let me know what you think."

#

Ella let him leave without comment, shaking her head in bewilderment. She had been fobbing him off since the airport, which had made for a very long journey home. Sullen, she hadn't been able to summon up the energy or the inclination for small talk or otherwise. Although, credit to him, her brother hadn't questioned her when she returned to the cab that day. He had watched her silently buckle back into her seat, and once the cab had started moving, most likely satisfied that she was not going to jump out again, he'd resumed reading his paper.

#

It had been weird to come back home after being abroad for so long. She had always presumed that when she did, she would simply slot back in—all the wiser for her travels, rejuvenated, motivated, and ready to get on with it. She had left with the presumption that she would always return. Assured that this was where she belonged; that this was the life she was supposed to be living... and yet... . Ella sighed, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them; so far, it hadn't been the case. She was floundering.

The local paper still didn't interest her as far as work was concerned. She'd been downtown and walked past the building several times, both times without actually entering. Not that the local rag was necessarily interested in her either. She was not exactly brimming with enthusiasm.

Being away had opened her eyes to a lot of things; most of all her home, right here. Their holiday park was quiet. Although typical for the season, it would pick up in the holidays, she knew that. Still, she had taken the time to look at the books; something in the past she would have usually left to Kit. She saw what he had seen. Business was not what it used to be. Ella had wandered the grounds, and like their house, the park also needed some attention. If it were going to have any chance of competing with the kid-friendly and surprisingly affordable resorts now commonplace, it would need a substantial upgrade. Ella may have liked what they offered; it was unique, quaint. It had always been that way—her childhood was made all the better for it. But was that it? Was she holding on to something that, although special for her, was not necessarily what people wanted anymore?

She glanced down at the file next to her trying not to scowl, picked it up, and flipped it open.

#

Unable to find anything better to do with herself, Ella spent the week working on the grounds. She had helped paint a couple of the cottages, tended the gardens, and started a clean out of the office. This helped answer another question she had been struggling with. Could Ella spend her life doing this every day? Even if it was up to scratch; if Kit had a major turnaround and was willing to invest more cash back into an upgrade. Would she be content to work here, to make this her life as their parents had done, and as she was expecting her brother to do?

Ella dragged the last bag of rubbish over to the bins and heaved it in on top of the other four she'd cleared out. She wiped her hands on the back of her jeans, and picking up her bottled water, wandered over to the shade of her favorite tree. The giant cedar had been there for as long as she could remember, rooted on the fence line of their house. As kids, they had swung on an old tire strung with a thick rope around one of the sturdy branches. Along with the children holidaying at the park, they would wile away their summer days climbing and swinging from its limbs. Every year, her parents would decorate the majestic branches in lights. Her dad, risking life and limb, would climb up on his ladder trailing coils of colored globes behind him and meticulously arrange them just so. This was always followed by a turning-on ceremony. Ella smiled to herself at the memory. Her mom would play Christmas carols from their porch, and half the park would show up. Dad's efforts were always greeted by a chorus of appreciative oohs and ahhs. It was, after all, the biggest Christmas tree any of us had ever seen.

Later, she and Kit had placed a commemorative chair under the canopy. The beautiful timber seat had a slatted base and high decorative back, embossed with a small, discreet plaque. As a teenager, Ella had many hours of contemplation in that very spot.

Sitting heavily, she ran her fingers over the inscription; the ornate bronzed plate now discolored from age and the elements. Mitch had sat with her here many times. Sometimes they would talk into the late evening; sometimes they wouldn't speak at all. Knowing that by just being there was all she needed. Ella missed Mitch more than she dared to admit. She hadn't heard from him, which was for the best, she reminded herself—and he obviously agreed.

#

Ella kicked at the needles turning brown on the ground with her shoe, her foot tracing an aimless pattern in the dirt. She was aware of Kit standing on their porch watching her. He had only been there for a few minutes, giving her space. She felt a wave of empathy; this was not all about her—it was about his future as well. His dreams and plans were dependent on her decision. He had made it very clear that timing was of the essence, and here she was taking her sweet time.

Ella gazed across the grounds, her chest tightening at the memories; all so vivid. She loved this place with all her heart. But she also knew it wasn't where she wanted to stay. She hoped wherever they were her parents would understand why they had to let it go. She hoped they would understand they had to move on.

#

Kit sat down next to Ella, drawing her into his arms and giving her a brotherly hug. She smiled sadly, letting the tears that had been bottled up for days finally fall. They sat there like that for a moment, the wind whistling gently through the branches above them the only sound.

"If you think the offer is good, you should accept."

Ella's voice felt small, but her mind was made up. She dried her eyes and straightened, looking at Kit, noticing for the first time that her brother was also showing signs of the strain. Her heart lurched, knowing that she had contributed to the cause. "You're right. It's time to let it go."

Kit didn't feel the elation he had been expecting following his little sister's sanctioning. As much as she might not believe it, he had struggled equally with the whole concept. He may have been clearer on the facts and perhaps clearer on his future, but it still didn't make the decision any easier. He nodded slowly, acknowledging Ella's acceptance.

"You're sure?"

She rested her head on his shoulder. "Yes. I am."

"We've had some interest in the house as well. Its early days but it's a good one. What do you think?"

Ella's heart skipped a beat. She pulled back and looked up at Kit. "Do we have to?"

He shook his head. "No. I can make it work without selling the house, Ella."

She looked over her shoulder at the house longingly; as much as she wanted to keep it... she couldn't think of a rational reason to hold on to it. "Sell it," she answered finally, holding out her hand to shake on it, something they had always done as kids.

"If that's what you want." Relieved their camaraderie had returned, he took her hand and shook.

#

"So, where is this resort you talked about?" Ella asked, realizing she was none the wiser for his plans.

"You'll love it," Kit enthused. "Needs a bit of work, but it's beautiful. I've been waiting for something like this."

Ella could hear the excitement in his voice. His entire body lifted, becoming animated when he spoke. It was a good thing; a warm contented feeling filled her. She may not know what she was going to do with herself yet, but it was obviously the right decision for Kit.

"When will you go?"

Kit laughed easily. "It's a lengthy process; we still have a lot to finalize, but we can go and have a look as soon as you want."

"Kit. . ." Ella shook her head from side to side. "You don't have to drag me along. It's okay."

He looked dumbfounded. He had been so accustomed to looking after her, it hadn't occurred to him she may not be interested. He chuckled good-naturedly at his oversight. "I had just presumed you would want to move ... ."

Ella bit her lip. "I don't know what I'm going to do yet, to be honest." Going with him hadn't occurred to her; she had yet to sit down and consider her options. "Where is it?"

Pulling his phone from his back pocket, Kit brought up the images and handed the device to Ella. They blew him away—how could she resist.

Ella scrolled down, one beautiful picture after another. The resort itself was in reasonable shape from what she could tell. From the pictures, she could see that the bungalows could do with an upgrade perhaps, and the gardens needed to be tamed, but overall the potential was obvious. Ella smiled to herself; maybe she could be convinced to change her mind! The scenery was stunning, white sand... blue skies... turquoise oceans... red earth? Ella's head felt light; it was spinning. She fumbled, almost dropping the phone. There was only one place on the planet that she knew had soil that vivid. She turned to her brother, her eyes wide and more than a few colorful expletives on the tip of her tongue.

"Kit. Where—is—this?"

Uh oh. He had been wondering how well this would go down.

"KIT?"

He took a deep breath. "Australia." 

# CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"Be more precise!" Ella's voice was shrill. The reality of what Kit was presenting to her hitting home.

"Broome," Kit specified, watching her closely... hmm still annoyed. He kept his fingers crossed that the happy part was coming.

"More to the point, Kit—you know what I'm asking. Where exactly in Australia is Broome? It's a big country, you know."

Kit gritted his teeth. "Western Australia."

"I knew it. I can't believe it!" her words were stumbling into each other. She wasn't taking this very well. "You dragged me all the way back here to tell me you have bought a resort back there—in the Kimberley!"

Kit cringed; yep, that was about it. "You needed to come home, Ella—for a number of reasons."

She rounded on him. "That may be the case, but still. Look who's not forthcoming with all their information! Didn't you say you were looking at some place on an island?"

"Funny thing that..." he hedged. "Have you heard Australia referred to as an Island continent?"

"Kit!" Ella huffed. No, she had not heard that. "Spare me; you know that's not what I'm getting at," she finished flatly, the fight in her starting to run dry. It made sense now. No wonder he had been so hard to get in contact with. No wonder he was all the way over on her side of the planet. "Is that how you just happened to be in Perth?"

He nodded. "Yes. While you were taking your sweet time, I took a closer look at what was on offer. There were places in Mexico, Fiji, and then this one, which just happened to be in Australia."

"Mexico's closer," Ella offered half-heartedly.

He chuckled. "Yeah perhaps... and cheaper. But it's not the place, Ella." He smiled regrettably, his finger tapping the image still open in her palm. "This is where I want to be. You should come."

Ella sighed, all the air leaving her lungs in one heavy breath. She handed his phone back to him. To be so close to Mitch... and still so far; Ella didn't know if she could do it. Overwhelmed, she stood abruptly, suddenly wishing there was a river to run around. She needed the open space to think. "I'm happy for you; really I am." Everything aside, it was the truth.

"Thanks," he acknowledged with a dip of his head. "Think about it, Ella."

"I will," she threw over her shoulder as she made her escape down the steps two at a time. Knowing full well she would be able to think of little else.

#

Ella had been for her run; she'd done laps of their property, which practically encompassed the entire block. After an hour, she had reduced her manic pace to a walk, her body better for it now that all the tension had been sweated out. She sat on the end of her bed following her shower, her mother's pen in one hand, a sheet of paper before her. When she was younger, she always found if she wrote things down she could get them out of her head; it helped her unravel them and sort them out. Ella bit gently on the end of the pen, staring at her A4 page. After twenty minutes, she had only managed a single word. Mitch.

She put down the pen and picked up her phone checking her messages. Still nothing from him... but that's a good thing remember... she reiterated to herself for the hundredth time in the past few weeks. She scrolled through her contacts, located his number... her fingers hovering over the keypad... they tingled with anticipation. How she desperately wanted to hear his voice; her stomach even did flip-flops at the thought. Reluctantly, Ella flicked it off and tossed it back onto the bed—what would she even say to him.

Rolling onto her side, she curled herself into a ball and closed her eyes. If she lay really still, she wondered if the peace she so desperately wanted would come. Cocooned in the darkness behind her lids, Ella slowed her breath and counted backward from ten. She tried to imagine herself in Broome, but the image wouldn't materialize. Despite the undeniable beauty of the place or even the prospect of the adventure, her mind refused point-blank to take it into consideration. She sighed, disappointed—it would have made things so easy. So, if she didn't belong in Broome with Kit, then where did she belong?

Exasperated, she opened her eyes and sat up, shaking herself in an attempt to garner some clarity. She screwed up the offending page, and feeling around on the duvet once again, located her pen and a fresh sheet. Now—concentrate she schooled sternly. Point one: Kit was happy, he'd found his paradise. His happiness meant a lot to her, and now she didn't have to worry. She knew her brother was going to be just fine. Point Two: just as she had come to the conclusion this week that living out her days running a holiday park was not for her, Ella also came to the realization that sitting behind a desk all day wasn't either. She didn't want to work for their local paper. Freelance journalism as it turned out was a good fit—the six months away proved it. That, together with the small income from her inheritance, meant she could support herself wherever she was based. Ella tapped her pen absently, filling the space with ink-colored dots while she contemplated. Did she want to work from here in San Diego? She leaned back, her chest tight—Ella knew the answer. The problem was, it all depended on point three.

Point Three was Mitch. She couldn't ignore him. His name once again scrawled across her page; her frustration with the subject noted by the great circling loops enclosing it over and over again—and little else. Mitch Carrington was apparently one thing she wasn't going to get out of her head on the page and untangled. More ink-colored dots... more circles... more nothing. Groaning out loud, Ella lobbed her pen in the air and threw herself back onto her pillows—it was going to be a long sleepless night.

#

"Kit, we need to talk."

Kit bounded up the steps, grinning from ear to ear. Everything was going to plan—he was on a high. He waved some papers above his head—it was a victory wave. "I hope you're going to tell me you've had a change of heart about Broome, little sis, because we've just sold. It's official and full steam ahead!"

Whoa, Ella balked for a moment. It was happening—so quickly. She steadied herself and sat down on the porch chair. "That's great, yes?"

Kit grinned; leaning down he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, crushing her with a reassuring hug.

"Yes... it... is. Tell me you're coming along, Ella."

She shrugged out of his hold so she could face him, shaking her head resolutely. "That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about."

He sat down heavily next to her. His face set in a grim line; he knew what was coming. "You're not, are you." It was a statement more than a question.

Ella exhaled; after a long night of to-ing and fro-ing, she had decided. She knew what was in her heart, but it still didn't make it any easier to say. "No; I'm not. If you need me to help with anything, anything at all, I'll be there, and I can't wait to stay one day." She squeezed his hand, willing him to understand. "But I can't move to Broome."

They were silent for a moment, the two of them sitting side by side letting the reality of what was unfolding settle over them. This was going to be hard.

"After our conversation yesterday... I kind of figured it," Kit admitted gruffly.

Ella's heart was in her mouth. "Yeah."

"At least you'll be closer; no excuses for not visiting."

She frowned. "Closer?"

Kit's laugh was bittersweet. "Perth. That is where you're headed, isn't it?"

"How..." Ella stuttered. She had only just worked that part out for herself.

"Just make sure you tell him that if he doesn't look after you like he should—he'll have me to answer to."

Ella shook her head, bewildered. "But how did you know?"

Kit shifted his weight, looking her in the eye, something he had been avoiding lately. "It's okay, Ella; I get it now—you're in love with him."

Ella almost choked; this coming from her non-communicative sibling. It had been the conclusion she'd also come to last night. There was only one place she wanted to be, and that was with Mitch. Nothing had ever been clearer to her than that fact.

"Yes," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She loved him utterly and completely. It had been weeks, and still she hadn't been able to get past messy or complicated. She hadn't been able to sort it out, get him out of her head, or move on—none of it. And Ella knew why. She didn't want to. "But... it's hard for me... you must know that." She hung her head. "This stuff... between you two... with Cassidy. . ."

"I know; I know," Kit interrupted, still uncomfortable with the subject. Despite the years since, he remembered it startlingly well. Cass may have been the love of his life—at the time at least. But she didn't have him fooled as much as she and apparently everyone else thought she did. He cleared his throat, his voice thick despite his best attempts. "That's a conversation he and I will have to have; we'll get to the bottom of it."

Ella's heart pressed hard up against her ribs; she hated seeing the pain this subject still caused. She would be glad when it never had to be mentioned again. She squeezed his arm gently. "So you're okay with it? If Mitch and I..."

He shrugged. "All things considered, he still wouldn't have been my first choice for you."

Oh. Ella cocked her head, taken aback. She had hoped... .

Kit nudged her shoulder good-naturedly. "But, apparently he's yours, and that's what matters."

Ella blushed with relief. Yes. Yes, he was. 

# CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ella's heart was beating rapidly. She was back in Australia, or more precisely, back in Western Australia. She and Kit had flown over together. He was to catch a connecting flight to the very top of the state later that day, eager to finalize the details of his purchase and leaving her to surprise Mitch. Ella had decided not to call him. She thought he deserved an explanation in person. Only now, as she stepped onto the wet cobbled street at the front of The Establishment, it occurred to her that after the way she treated him, after the things she said, or didn't say, would Mitch even still want to speak to her?

She stood frozen, rooted to the spot while passersby dodged the lone woman standing smack-bang in the middle of their walkway; their brows knitted together as they zigzagged around her trying to get out of the drizzle. Ella blushed, embarrassed, before quickly rolling her small case behind her to the shelter of the eaves and out of everyone's way. She bit down on her lip; hadn't she just flown all the way across the world to see him—regardless of the outcome, was there really any choice now?

#

"What do you mean he's gone?" Ella repeated disbelievingly, her bag dropping to the floor. "Gone where?"

Laura's gaze diverted uncomfortably. She shrugged; it had been a whirlwind few weeks. Her boss hadn't been overly talkative, happy enough to bark a few orders, but that was it. He would be away for a while, and she had been promoted to running The Establishment in his absence. That much Laura knew.

"He did say he was going home first... had something to see to."

"Home?" Ella repeated, dismayed. She had thought Perth was his home. Or was it somewhere in the Kimberley or Sydney? She sank down in the nearest chair; where was home to Mitch? She should have known.

"At his beach house," Laura offered quietly. "I think he was heading down south for a couple of days first."

Ella's head lifted in hope. "You mean Eagle Bay?"

Laura nodded. "Yes. But I don't know if he's still there."

Ella's heart lurched. "When did he go?"

"Yesterday; should I call him for you?"

"No." Ella's head was spinning. "Don't call him," she begged. "Please, Laura. I need to see him in person. I'll drive down." It was decided; nothing could change her mind. Ella swiped her phone and punched in car hire. It was time for a road trip.

#

Eagle Bay was a scenic three to four-hour drive by car, depending on how fast you drove. She enjoyed road trips; they harked back to her childhood. Her parents preferring the open road with the kids squished in the back seat among the luggage, and a caravan hooked on the tow bar, rather than flying abroad. Although the wet weather was slowing her journey, Ella wasn't tempted to go outside the speed limits or ignore the signs. If there was one thing she was, it was a careful driver. She was all too aware of the consequences; even more so on strange roads. That said, while her car might have been going at a measured pace, the wheels in her head were an entirely different matter; the conversations playing over and over on a torturous reel. She could still see the disbelief on Mitch's face when she told him she was leaving. When she told him they were very much just a holiday fling and nothing more. Ella gripped the steering wheel of her car, wincing as her words came back to haunt her; wondering again if he would even want anything to do with her.

She wound down her window letting a cold blast of air into the car in an attempt to shake her thoughts. The rain wasn't subsiding, and gray was apparently the color of the day; what little sun there was now sinking on the horizon beyond the tall trees in the distance. There would be only moments before late afternoon turned to night. She needed to concentrate on the task in front of her. Turning off the main thoroughfare, Ella slowed the car even more. There were no streetlights on the bush roads, making it darker than anything she had experienced before. Even the stars and moon were hidden, shrouded in the brooding clouds hanging ominously overhead. It was if they had followed her down from the city, like a cartoon cloud of doom. With her high beam on and her navigation system guiding her, she edged the car cautiously along the bitumen. Ella's heart rate accelerated when she caught a glimpse of a familiar sight in the distance, recognizing the small white mailbox from her earlier visit. Considering what lay at the end of the long gravel drive, it was very discreet. The Shack painted in simple black lettering on a little swinging sign hung from the nondescript mailbox. Indicating and pulling carefully off the road, Ella turned into the drive. Although she had convinced herself that she wouldn't be too late, that Mitch would still be here, her trepidation grew when she reached the end of the track. The house that greeted her was barely lit and eerily still. What would she do if Mitch had already left? The very thought sent a prickle of dread down her spine—Ella didn't think she could bear it.

#

She turned off the ignition and stepped out, the rain making her hurry more than she wanted to. Ella stepped quickly picking her way over the paving as best she could, careful to mind her way on the slippery limestone surface. She reached the front door, glad for the elaborate peaked entry where she was sheltered from the weather, and tried to quiet down the inner monologue that rattled through her brain. She was here now; she should take a deep breath and simply push the buzzer. If Mitch had already gone, or if he couldn't forgive her, then she could simply turn around, march back down that path—and leave. She could fall apart later when she found a hotel somewhere for the night. There was only one thing left to do. She pressed the button on the intercom system announcing her presence and waited.

Nothing. It felt like time was standing still. Ella strained her ears to hear something... anything... besides the pounding of her own heart that was echoing in her ears. With all this wind and rain, maybe Mitch couldn't hear the doorbell? She counted to ten before knocking, what harm could it do—she needed to be sure. Movement sounded from behind the giant jarrah door. Footsteps? Voices? Ella's heart leaped in her chest, a sob escaping her. Her body held rigid for hours slumped with the relief—he was here. Mitch was home.

#

A front light was switched on, the key turned, the door opened, pivoting on a central beam that ran through the body of the door. Ella stepped back; her breath held waiting to see his face. Praying he would smile when he saw her.

"Ella Jackson?" The voice was vaguely familiar—the face as well. The woman smiled haltingly, before stepping further into the light of the entry. "You're not supposed to be here."

Cassidy? Ella thought she might be sick. Her stomach lurched; her head spun. It couldn't be! Cassidy here in Mitch's home! She stumbled back, shaking her head from side to side disbelievingly.

"Lucky you caught us," she rattled on, every word like a knife in Ella's back. "Mitch was in a hurry to leave, but our flight got cancelled because of this damned storm."

Our flight? Could it get any worse! Laura's words ran over in her head. Mitch had something to see to. Was Cassidy his something to see to? They were leaving together.

Cassidy was looking at her oddly, and she stepped toward Ella. "Are you okay? Come inside out of the rain. Mitch is just getting dressed."

Ella's heart broke. Yes, she was definitely going to be sick. She gathered her flailing dignity; she didn't need to do this—she didn't need to go through this pain again. She was a fool. Kit would tell her so... and she would agree.

"Sorry... wrong house..." Ella mumbled, and backed down the step. She turned on her heel, but not before she caught a glimpse of Mitch coming up behind Cassidy. Ella gasped, the sound choking from her; seeing them together in the same frame was even more agonizing than it had been the first time—if that were even possible. Only last time, all those years ago, it had been Cassidy who was in a state of undress. Ella almost laughed at the absurdity of it all; this time, it was Mitch. He was tugging his shirt over his bare shoulders, his expression unreadable.

"Who is it? Cassidy, what the hell... . ."

Ella didn't wait to hear the rest. She didn't want to hear the explanations or the excuses. She wouldn't be Mitch Carrington's fool twice.

#

Blindly she ran to her car, the adrenaline pulsing through her veins pushing her past the tears, past falling in a heap, and past her anger. Numbly she shoved the key roughly into the ignition, and within seconds had the car whirring to life. She flicked on the headlights and jammed the car into gear, spinning the wheels as she drove out. The rain battered hard against the windscreen, seeming to match Ella's state; soaked through, with tears, now unleashed, streaming down her face. How wrong she had been about everything. No wonder Mitch hadn't tried to get in touch with her all this time—he was obviously a very busy man. Ella sobbed, her heart battered, to feel this much and for it not to be real, for it not to be returned... . was a cruel joke. She laughed bitterly; only moments before she would never have been able to picture her life without Mitch in it. Now she would do whatever it took to erase him from her mind.

Ella reached the end of the drive; it was so very black, there were no cars coming, only fools on the road tonight. She yanked her belt on and pulled out; she didn't know which way she was going, as long as it was away from here, a hotel surely couldn't be too far away. She would spend the night, then tomorrow she would drive back to the city and book the first plane out of the country—this time for good.

#

It came from nowhere. Ella had seen the signs; they were hard to miss there were so many of them, along practically every road in this country. Watch Out Kangaroos—they warned. Such beautiful creatures, unique, graceful, and deadly. She swerved and braked hard, her car screeching with the effort, the tires burning their tread into the road in a vain attempt to grip onto the wet asphalt. Ella felt it clip, a dull thud as the rear of the animal connected with her car despite her efforts to miss it. That was the last thing she remembered—that and the trees looming up in front of her. 

# CHAPTER NINETEEN

Ella opened her eyes. The light hurt; actually—everything hurt. Her body felt stiff and bruised. She looked about her through squinted lids; the room was white and clinical. Where was she?

"Ella." A firm hand encased hers.

She turned her head groggily. "Kit?"

He smiled, relief etched all over his face. "You're okay," he reassured her, his voice catching.

Ella moved her arm gingerly. "What happened—where am I?"

"You were in an accident, Ella, but you're safe now, in hospital." Kit was watching her intently. "Do you remember anything?"

An accident? Ella tried to focus—she remembered driving. "I was going to see Mitch—it was raining."

He nodded encouragingly. "Yes, that's right; what about after that?"

"Oh!" Ella remembered suddenly, the image landing smack-bang in the middle of her stomach—Cassidy. Panicked, Ella looked at her brother, if she was here ... and he was too...

"Cassidy was at his house."

Kit nodded. "Yes, I'm aware of that. She's gone now," he said, his voice somber.

For some reason, that fact only made Ella feel marginally better. "Mitch?" Had he gone as well?

Kit smiled now for the first time, humor in his tired eyes. "He's still here, Ella."

Even in her condition, Ella caught the shift in her brother's demeanor. "Where is he?" She wished she didn't care enough to want to know, but she was too weary to play games.

"He's pacing the hallway somewhere—most likely on his umpteenth cup of coffee," Kit said with a chuckle. "You refused to see him."

Ella rubbed her forehead gingerly. "I did?"

He nodded. "After the accident, once you were coherent, apparently you made it pretty damn clear he was not to come near you."

"Ouch." Ella winced. That was harsh.

"Mitch was the one who found you; it must have been just after it happened. He called the ambulance, and didn't leave your side until they got you here. After that, he had to wait until I arrived—next of kin and all that. Luckily my flight to Broome was delayed; the storm is even worse in Perth, so I was still hanging around when they phoned. I drove straight down."

Ella looked down at her body covered in the white hospital sheet, almost too scared to ask. "Am I in one piece?"

He squeezed her hand. "Miraculously, you are—thank God. But you didn't come away completely unscathed: concussion, fractured ribs, and a ton of bruising. Luckily your car was fitted with airbags, and it was the passenger side that hit the tree.

Ella shuddered as the memories filtered through. It had all happened so quickly. "There was a kangaroo. I swerved." She recalled her panic—she couldn't control the vehicle. The machine Ella was hooked up to began to beep, its rate increasing as her heart did.

Kit covered her hand with his. "You're okay now. They're monitoring you, and you're on painkillers. You'll be sore and a little drowsy."

Ella bowed her head; that part she definitely got. "I was lucky," she affirmed softly, the reality of how close she came to following in her parents' footsteps overwhelming.

Kit stood, leaning over her and kissing the top of her head. "You were, little sis; you were."

There was a knock at the door, and a nurse appeared. "The doctor would like to see Ella now if he could. Then ..." she stalled awkwardly looking from Ella to Kit and back again, "... there is someone else out here still waiting to see the patient?"

Kit looked down at Ella; his brow arched questioningly. "That will be Mitch. What do you want to do?"

The two men had obviously had that conversation; her brother's hands weren't balling into fists at the mention of his name. But right now—even that fact didn't change how she felt. Ella's heart was as black and blue as her body. She turned her head away. "I don't want to see Mitch now."

#

Flowers filled the room. It was ridiculous. Ella rolled her eyes as yet another trolley load appeared through the doorway—the fifth day in a row!

"Take some home," she pleaded to the nurse. "I don't need all these. I don't want them."

The older woman smiled, amused, "And why not?"

Ella looked sullenly out the window. "Because..."

The nurse moved the bouquet of delicate pink roses from the stand next to Ella's bed over to the far side, replacing them with a bunch of red roses instead; putting them down almost under Ella's nose so she couldn't miss them."I'm sure half the nurses on this ward would be delighted to be getting flowers like these."

"They can have them then," Ella threw back broodingly.

The woman chuckled to herself good-naturedly, glancing at the young patient she had been tending to all week. "Are you sure? You do know what red roses mean?"

Ella folded her arms across her body. Yes, she knew what red roses stood for; she just didn't care for the topic.

"Red roses are for love," the nurse prattled on regardless, "and these," she walked over to the unusual orange-colored petals on her dresser, "these mean desire."

Now, Ella had to admit she did not know that one. Her curiosity piqued, she pointed out another. "What about those?" The unusual-hued buds were amassed in vases that stretched right across her windowsill. Mitch must have ordered the entire bush!

"Ahh... lavender roses..." The woman smiled wistfully. "In my day, lavender roses meant love at first sight. I received some myself once upon a time," she tittered. "Mind you, that was a long time ago now."

Ella smiled at the sentiment, her heart thawing just a little. Pensive, she gazed about her room; filled to the brim, every surface adorned with elaborate bunches of flowers. It was over the top—Mitch was being over the top. "You think I should see him, don't you?"

The woman's eyes flicked briefly up at Ella while she maneuvered her trolley around the bed, retrieving the last vase in the entire hospital and dropping a smaller posy into it. "If you don't want more of these," she pointed out, "that might be a good idea. Because I don't think he's going to stop until you do."

Ella absently twisted the edge of her sheet between her fingertips. "I loved him so much," she murmured sadly almost to herself, her heart broken. It ached more than her entire body. "But..."

"But?"

A tear worked its way free trailing a path down Ella's cheek; as much as she didn't want to care, she couldn't pretend any longer. She looked at the woman. "I think I do need to see him."

The nurse smiled empathetically, propping the ceramic vessel in her hands up next to the roses. "Yes; I think you do, too."

#

"They're letting you out."

Kit was perched on the end of her bed. He had been there on a regular basis, spending a good chunk of his week working from his laptop while keeping a watchful eye on her. Distracted, he closed his computer and looked at her. "You have to decide where you want to go."

Given the go-ahead earlier, Ella was packing her bag; as lovely as all the staff had been, she couldn't wait to leave. As far as she was concerned, she had been holed up for longer than was necessary— thanks to an overprotective sibling. The doctor had signed off; Kit was relinquished of his duties; he could get going to Broome, and Ella could... well... she still didn't know where she was going.

"You should speak to Mitch."

She eyed Kit wryly, still adjusting to his about-face on the whole subject. All the same, she agreed. "I know," she answered softly; her stomach twisting in knots at the thought.

Surprised, Kit looked up from the papers he was shuffling. It had been an entire week, and he hadn't been able to get her to budge. He was relieved she was coming to her senses.

"You know Mitch and I sorted out our differences."

Ella left her case and sat back down on her bed. "I gathered as much. So you've talked?"

He nodded. "Yes. You were right, sis; it wasn't what I'd thought. Turns out Cassidy knew his family was loaded; she was trying to set him up so she could blackmail him."

Ella gasped, remembering her conversation with Mitch on the beach about just that.

"What about you and Cassidy, was any of that real?"

Kit smiled ruefully and shrugged. "She said it was."

"Were you really going to ask her to marry you?" She remembered how happy Kit had been when Cassidy was around.

"I did ask her."

Ella shuddered, no wonder the fallout lasted years. She eyed her brother carefully; he seemed okay. If there was any lingering attachment, he hid it well. "So you're okay now, after seeing her again?"

Kit nodded assuredly. "Between you and me, sis, there's this thing about guys and pretty girls—we lose our head a bit."

Ella managed a small laugh, but it still made her ribs hurt.

"It's the past, Ella. It's over and done, and for the best. She's happily married. I'm not married and happy."

"Oh." Her brother wasn't mincing his words. Then it struck her. "Hold it a minute— did you just say Cassidy was married?"

Kit nodded. "Yes; that's what I said."

Ella frowned; it was becoming a bad habit of late. "But if she is happily married, then why was she at Mitch's house?"

It didn't make sense. Cassidy said we were catching a flight, as in... her... and... Mitch. Ella had heard correctly; it wasn't her overwrought imagination, nor was the fact that Mitch had been half-dressed—she had definitely not imagined that!

Kit stood, shoving his laptop and a bunch of papers into his bag. "Like I've been saying, sis; you need to speak to Mitch, and so do I. I'll be back later to get you."

"Can you ask him to come and see me?"

He was already halfway out the door. "Ella—he's here every day." Kit pointed outside her window to the garden. "Give me fifteen minutes, then he's all yours."

#

Ella stood and watched them for a moment. Mitch and Kit were finishing up; she hoped whatever they were discussing wouldn't put a dent in their newly-established peace treaty. It looked intense, but seemed to end amicably enough; the two men shaking hands firmly before Kit left.

Sensing her presence, Mitch turned abruptly; his shoulders broad and tense, his stance rigid—there was nothing easy about the man standing before her. A sob caught in Ella's throat. There was a rawness to him she hadn't seen before. He looked a wreck... a handsome wreck for sure... but still, her refusal to see him had clearly taken its toll.

They stood silently for a moment facing each other, alone in the small garden. Mitch first to break the spell stepped toward her; hesitating, he stopped just short. Ella felt her heart swell, the beating in her chest growing stronger. She understood why, even in the aftermath of the accident, she had intuitively known to keep him at bay. Despite her misgivings, despite her doubts and even her anger, in his presence she knew she could easily crumble. It had always been that way. She reached out tentatively, wanting to erase some of the pain she'd inadvertently caused.

Mitch caught her hand, bringing it to his lips; he kissed her palm tenderly and held it at his side, his other hand pushing her hair back from her face.

"I've been waiting for you, Ella," he murmured gruffly; his voice thick, his eyes molten-gold, raking over every inch of her, needing to see for himself that she was alright. Gently his fingers traced over her lips, her cheek, both still lightly swollen from the impact. She felt him tremor... she felt his love. It was her undoing.

Ella couldn't refuse him. Falling into his arms, she knew she'd found where she belonged. The strength of the man wrapped around her gently, fitting her to him; healing her heart and bringing her body to life. Ella couldn't deny it, she wanted the fairy tale. She wanted it all—she wanted Mitch holding her like this forever. She was a fool; a fool to think that she could live without this man—when he was the one she needed. 

# EPILOGUE

"So, you're telling me it was the story I wrote for Metro—that's how Cassidy found you!"

They had seen Kit off; now that he knew Ella was in good hands and on the mend, he needed to get to Broome. His flight had been scheduled for the following day, and he was packed and ready when Tom came to collect him at 3:00pm sharp. The short flight back to the city from the local airport would see him make his evening connection. At last, Mitch had Ella all to himself, safely back home, and he was not letting her out of his sight. Ella squirmed; it made her uncomfortable to think about it. She promised herself right then she would not be doing another story... ever... with Mitch in it.

"So, Cassidy wanted money?"

He nodded. "Her husband has been out of work for a while. It's tough times for some people."

Ella thought he was being very fair-minded considering. "So you gave it to her?"

He could hear the concern in her voice, and tilting her face to his, he kissed her soundly.

"No, I did not. Never again. But I did arrange a couple of interviews for him. Mining is good money if he can do the work; they'll be back on their feet before they know it."

"So you gave her money last time—in San Diego?" Ella wanted it all out in the open so they could put it behind them once and for all.

"I did," Mitch answered honestly. "Ten grand and a one-way ticket back to Sydney if she swore to keep away from you and Kit—and me."

"And yet she did come looking for you again," Ella pouted. "She said you had a flight—together?"

Mitch pulled Ella up gently. Careful not to hurt her ribs, he held her to him. "When did the doctor say you would be able to play?"

Ella laughed out loud, swatting him playfully. "The doctor didn't say, and I didn't ask." She blushed. "Now, don't distract me from my line of questioning; we're not finished."

Mitch grinned. "You really have found your calling, you know that. Geraldine, by the way, says hello. She has some work lined up for you when you're up to it."

The idea appealed to her—a lot. "I'd like that." She smiled. "Although I might stick to reviewing hotels," she added as an afterthought. "Now, answer the question. Were you going somewhere with Cassidy?"

Mitch didn't miss the fragility creeping into her voice. She had been through a lot, and she needed to hear this from him. "We were flying back to Perth where I was putting her on a plane, by herself, back to where she came from. Then I was flying to you."

Ella's eyes widened. "You were coming to San Diego?"

He nodded assuredly. "Of course, I was. I figured you'd had enough time to see sense, and besides that, I had to sort out this situation with Kit, otherwise things could have been a bit awkward at the wedding."

"Wedding?" Ella looked up into his eyes, something she would never tire of. "Mitch..."

He put his finger to her lips. "Don't say a word." He lifted her effortlessly into his arms, holding her gently against him and headed toward the door. "Close your eyes," he ordered against her ear, "I have a surprise."

Ella giggled. She squeezed her eyes shut, and snuggled against his chest as he walked with her outside and onto the sand. Ella could hear the waves breaking on the shore; they were getting louder as they got closer. Mitch put her down gently onto the sand and turned her around to where he wanted her. "Okay," he said, "you can open them now."

She gasped in delight. "Our bench!"

Pleased with himself, he grinned. "All the way from the States."

Ella ran her hand over the familiar inscription for her parents, tears welling up in her eyes. "I can't believe you did this for me... thank you."

"And this goes with it." He handed her a plain envelope with her name typed officially on its face. Ella turned it over in her hands; she looked skeptically from Mitch and back at the envelope. "What's this?"

"You'll see," he answered quietly, "just open it."

Doing as she was told, Ella pried open the back and pulled out the folded sheets. Her mouth dropped open; it was the deed to her parents' house—the one she and Kit had just sold. "You bought our house?"

"I did. For you." He pointed to the document. "It's in your name, Ella. I spoke to Kit about it. I thought you should keep it in the family. He wasn't too happy initially when he realized I was the buyer, but now he knows it's for you."

"You didn't have to do this." She kissed his face. "I'm where I want to be. You are my home."

Mitch held her to him. He would never get tired of hearing those words. He brushed the hair back from her beautiful face; she had mesmerized him from the moment he laid eyes on her. "Ella..." he breathed her name as he kissed her hungrily, missing her closeness, the taste of her, her touch. He vowed right then never to spend a night apart from her again. Mitch looked into her eyes. "Say you'll marry me."

Ella smiled, tears welling in her eyes, her very own happy ending. "Yes," she answered with all her heart.

The End

## Contents

  1. Chapter One
  2. Chapter Two
  3. Chapter Three
  4. Chapter Four
  5. Chapter Five
  6. Chapter Six
  7. Chapter Seven
  8. Chapter Eight
  9. Chapter Nine
  10. Chapter Ten
  11. Chapter Eleven
  12. Chapter Twelve
  13. Chapter Thirteen
  14. Chapter Fourteen
  15. Chapter Fifteen
  16. Chapter Sixteen
  17. Chapter Seventeen
  18. Chapter Eighteen
  19. Chapter Nineteen
  20. Chapter Twenty

## Landmarks

  1. Cover
  2. Table of Contents
  3. Coming Soon

