Just One Last Night.... Amy Andrews

long, strong fingers disregarded the convenience of the curved handle, preferring to encompass the whole cup.

      No ring. ‘You’re not married.’

      The statement slipped out unchecked. Not surprising since his marital status had weighed on her mind since her mother had put it there.

      But not something she’d wanted him to know she’d been thinking about.

      Brent looked at her for a moment before looking down at his bare left hand. ‘No. Not now.’

      Now? Oh. ‘Divorced?’

      Brent nodded. ‘Twice.’

      Grace blinked. ‘Twice?’

      He nodded. Marrying twice and failing at both wasn’t a record he was proud of. ‘In my early twenties.’

      After Grace had walked away Brent had been determined never to date another career-woman. And while party girls had been fun and up for anything, the reality of married life with a poor medical student or an overworked, underpaid resident had soon lost its sparkle.

      ‘They were both brief. My first one didn’t see out a year. The second one didn’t see two. Both of my exes have since happily remarried. One now lives in Hong Kong. The other in Darwin. They were both amicable.’

      ‘Okay,’ she said. Because frankly she didn’t know what else to say. She certainly hadn’t expected that.

      Deep down she’d secretly thought he’d never find anyone to replace her. That what they’d had was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. She’d certainly never found another man who’d come close to measuring up to Brent.

      Brent could see she was grappling with the news. ‘I was looking for … I wanted …’

      He stopped. He hadn’t known what he’d wanted.

       Grace. But not Grace.

      She nodded. ‘Yeah … I know.’ He’d wanted connection. Family. Roots. The perfect white-picket life he’d never had. ‘Any kids?’

      Brent shook his head. Forty years old and the kids he’d always imagined he’d have hadn’t panned out.

      He’d never been short of partners. In fact, he’d earned quite the playboy rep. But the problem with dating party girls was that they were as reluctant to settle and have babies quickly as career-women were.

      And after two divorces, the idea of the perfect family had taken a battering. He’d resigned himself to the fact that he just wasn’t meant to be a father.

      ‘I guess I never found the right person. It just hasn’t happened.’

      Maybe perfect only came along once? Maybe he’d been holding out for another Grace? Sitting opposite her, he suspected that it could possibly be true. The thought alarmed him and he opened his mouth to distract himself from it.

      ‘I coach a football team, though. Made up of kids in the system. It’s run by a Melbourne-based charity.’ He smiled, thinking about his beloved Little Warriors. ‘They range in age from five to twelve. They’re a bit of a ragtag bunch, but they’re keen and they love their Aussie rules.’

      Grace watched as Brent’s face softened, his sexy mouth moving into an easy smile. His admission didn’t surprise her. His time in foster-care had given him deep insight into a fraught system. That he would be doing his bit to improve it all these years later was typical of the Brent she’d known.

      And after remembering him with her siblings, it was easy to visualise him running around on a field, chasing after a bunch of kids, a whistle in his mouth, laughing.

      ‘Every few weeks I hire a corporate box at the MCG and we all go and watch a game together.’

      Grace whistled. That wouldn’t be cheap. ‘They’re lucky to have you.’

      Brent shook his head. ‘I’m lucky. They’re great kids.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘They keep me young.’

      Grace wished she could say the same about her kids. Tash was single-handedly turning her grey. ‘Sounds great,’ she said, trying not to sound resentful. Coaching a bunch of kids who hero-worshipped you for a couple of hours was very different to parenting day in, day out. Especially when you weren’t wired that way.

      ‘Enough about me,’ he said, looking directly at her. ‘You never married?’

      She shook her head. ‘Nope.’

      ‘Why?’

      There was a certain amount of amazement in his voice and she laughed. ‘Women do chose to stay single, Brent. It’s not a crime. Especially in a field like medicine where the climb to the top is a long, hard slog. I made a choice to put my career first.’

      And it hadn’t even been difficult. Sure, there’d been relationships over the years but none of them had stimulated her like medicine. Or Brent. She’d always figured she’d had her shot at grand love and blown it.

      And if sometimes, deep in the night, she’d craved a man’s arms around her, dreamt about Brent, it was the price she’d paid. And she didn’t have any regrets.

      At least she hadn’t until Brent had swept back into her life, reminding her of things that could have been.

      ‘And yet you had children?’

      Grace frowned. It took a second for her to understand what he was saying. He still thought Tash and Benji were hers …

      ‘Ah. Actually … I have a confession to make.’

      Brent raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh?’

      She took a deep breath, already dreading the way she knew this conversation was going to go. Rehashing all the grief and opening all the wounds again. ‘They’re not mine. Tash and Benji. They’re Julie’s.’

      ‘Julie? Your sister?’ She nodded and he continued, a smile lighting his face. ‘Do you remember that time she called us at three in the morning from that nightclub? She was underage and had drunk too many West Coast coolers and she was scared she was dying from alcohol poisoning?’

      He laughed at the memory. ‘What the hell she thought two green medical students could do I have no idea.’

      Grace smiled the familiar ache in her chest roaring to life. She remembered it as if it was yesterday. Julie hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since that night.

      They’d been so close. With only eleven months between them they’d been more like twins—inseparable. And when Grace had made the heart-wrenching break to Brisbane to finish her medical degree she’d missed her sister almost as much as she had Brent.

      ‘She threw up for a day,’ Grace murmured. ‘I had to come up with that elaborate lie for Mum and Dad.’

      Brent chuckled. So the kids were her sister’s. It certainly made a lot more sense. The notion of Grace having kids had been completely foreign to him and he’d spent a lot of time in the last weeks trying to wrap his head around it.

      But that didn’t explain why she hadn’t set him straight from the beginning. Had she wanted him to think they were hers as some kind of proof that she’d been fine without him?

      ‘So … you let me believe they were your kids because …?’

      Grace cleared her throat of the huge lump that had suddenly taken up residence. ‘Because they are. Mine. That is. Julie and Doug were killed in a car accident eighteen months ago. I’m …’ She drew in a shaky breath. ‘I’m their legal guardian.’

      Brent felt his gut twist at the huskily imparted news. He sat very still for a moment, watching Grace fight to stay contained, observing the thick mist of grief clouding her grey gaze.

      ‘Oh, no, Gracie …’ He reached for her across the table, his hand squeezing her forearm. He knew how close they’d been. ‘I’m so sorry.’

      His