Flirting with Trouble. Elizabeth Bevarly

more important one: Why hadn’t she told him yet her real reason for being here?

      She’d had hours on the plane between San Diego and Sydney to think about their upcoming meeting. But as she’d tried to figure out how she felt about Daniel Whittleson now and plan their inevitable meeting accordingly, she’d been inundated by memories of the past. When she’d finally landed in Australia, she’d had no plan of attack and felt more confused than when she’d left home.

      Ultimately, she’d been forced to admit that she didn’t know how she felt about Daniel Whittleson now. She wasn’t the same person she’d been eight years ago. So much had happened since the last time she saw him, things that had changed her very core. Her father’s business had failed less than a year after her week with Daniel, something that had sent her family into a tailspin. Virtually overnight, Marnie had gone from rich to poor, from frivolous to serious, from party girl to working girl. There had been times during the trans-Pacific flight when she’d felt as if she didn’t know Daniel Whittleson at all. Not as the Marnie Roberts she was now.

      After he’d left San Diego, she’d told herself that if she ever ran into him again, she’d be civil but cool. Show him that she’d put the past behind her and moved on, but that she didn’t quite forgive him for what he’d done. Instead, tonight, she’d been nervous and uncertain…and accommodating. She’d even accepted an invitation to join him for dinner. What was the matter with her?

      But more important than any of that, she still hadn’t told him the reason she was in Hunter Valley. That was, after all, why she’d gone to the hospital. That and to inquire about Sam’s condition. She may have been unsure about many things with regard to Daniel, but there had been one decision she had made on the flight—to tell him immediately that she was working for Louisa Fairchild. And she’d thought it might be easier to talk to him if she went to see him as Marnie Roberts, an old acquaintance—for lack of a better word—instead of Marnie Roberts, representative of Division International, working on behalf of the woman who’d shot his father. She’d thought he might be more likely to listen to what she had to say in a less-confrontational atmosphere like the hospital than an office environment, or even his father’s house.

      She’d worried, too, that Daniel wouldn’t agree to see her if she tried to set up an appointment as Louisa’s representative. And all right, she’d also thought that maybe by catching him off guard, he might be more amenable to a dialogue about the shooting that didn’t involve criminal charges.

      What she hadn’t thought was that seeing him again would rouse all those old feelings from eight years ago. And not the bad ones like her turmoil at his panicked departure from her condo when he realized he was late for the race. Or, worse, the sickness that overcame her when she found his letter in her mailbox that evening after returning from the track to look for him—and not finding him. Those were the memories that should have risen most quickly, because those were the ones that had hurt so much.

      Instead, she was remembering the good parts of that week. Like strolling hand in hand along Moonlight Beach in Encinitas. And tooling along Harbor Drive in her convertible with the top down. And licking the churro sugar from each other’s fingers on the patio at Café Coyote.

      Then again, she thought as the images unrolled in her mind, thinking about those things now hurt even more than the memories of Daniel’s leaving did….

      Oh, God. Just when she’d been feeling as though her life was finally settling down after years of struggle, why did Daniel have to walk back into it? He’d been the first of many things to go wrong eight years ago, and having him come back now made her feel as if she were going in circles, as if the bad times were just looping around to start over again. Only this time, she and Daniel weren’t two strangers meeting to embark on a week full of lovely experiences. This time, they were on opposite sides in a volatile situation that was bound to create bad feelings.

      And this time, there wouldn’t be a second chance eight years down the road to meet and talk and perhaps find closure. Because after what Marnie was going to have to do, Daniel would never want to look at her again.

      Chapter Three

      After placing their order in the café, Marnie studied Daniel from the other side of the table and tried to figure out how to tell him she was representing Louisa.

      Oh, hi, Daniel. Great to see you after all these years of not knowing where you were or what you were doing after you dumped me. But, listen, here’s the thing. It’s kind of a funny story, actually. That woman who shot and nearly killed your father? The one who wants to send him to jail? I’m supposed to make her come out smelling like a rose and see that your father is the one who ends up looking like the criminal. So how the hell are ya?

      Somehow, saying something like that just didn’t seem like good PR.

      Technically, she thought, she hadn’t lied to him. She was in Hunter Valley on business, and she had read about Sam’s shooting in the newspaper. In fact, everything she’d said to Daniel tonight had been true. It just hadn’t been exactly straightforward.

      But, hey, he hadn’t exactly been straightforward with her eight years ago, had he? After spending a wonderful week together, he’d pretty much told her she mattered less to him than his horses. And in that same week, she’d begun to feel like Daniel Whittleson might just be The One. Her response to him was so much stronger than with other men. Other men with whom she’d spent significantly more time. She and Daniel had felt good together. They’d felt right. She’d been so sure he shared those feelings. The way he had looked at her. The things he’d said. The way he’d made her feel…

      And seeing him again, Marnie realized she’d never quite stopped feeling those things for him. If she didn’t think about the way their time together had ended, she could almost imagine it was eight years ago, and the two of them were back at her condo on the beach, laughing and feeding each other shrimp and sharing the last bottle of beer in her refrigerator.

      Except that Daniel didn’t look like the young, up-and-coming trainer she remembered from back then. Eight years had woven a few threads of silver into his black hair and carved faint lines around his espresso-colored eyes. Eight years had toughened his complexion to a rich bronze and roughened his hands deliciously. The years had broadened his shoulders and roped the muscles of his forearms where he’d pushed up the sleeves of his sweater. She wasn’t sure, but he seemed an inch or two taller, because she didn’t recall him being quite so…overwhelming.

      A ribbon of something hot and electric uncurled in her belly as she looked at him, but it wasn’t the same heat and electricity she remembered from San Diego. She’d wanted Daniel with a young girl’s desire back then, all urgent and needy and intense. Looking at him now, she felt desire kindling again, but it was different this time. It went deeper and pulled harder and somehow felt even stronger than it had before.

      How could that be? she wondered. How could she still want him? She told herself she was remembering an idealized version of him and all the good times they’d had, conveniently forgetting the very real hurt he’d left her with.

      She gave herself a good mental shake. Daniel Whittleson had abandoned her. He’d hurt her. When didn’t matter. He couldn’t be trusted. Even if she forgave him for what had happened in San Diego—and she wasn’t sure she had—chances were good he hadn’t changed. If she didn’t remember anything else, she told herself, she’d damned well better remember that.

      Still, she couldn’t deny that the years had wrought more than physical changes in him. He didn’t smile the same way he had then. Granted, he must have had the scare of his life finding out his father was shot. But it was more than that. There was a caution in him now that she sensed had been there for some time. And the wariness in his eyes when he looked at her hadn’t been there before. As if he wasn’t sure he could trust her.

      Then again, she thought, he couldn’t trust her. Because she wasn’t being honest with him.

      Straightforward, she corrected herself. She just wasn’t being straightforward.

      “So what kind of work brought you