Gold Coast Angels: How to Resist Temptation. Amy Andrews

much like Alex,’ she said.

      Cade felt the usual tension creep along his shoulders and crawl up his neck whenever talk turned too close to home. ‘That would be because we’re stepbrothers. Not blood relations. My father married his mother.’

      ‘Oh. Sorry. For some reason I always thought you were half-brothers.’

      The less he said the better. ‘No.’

      Callie nodded. ‘So it was your father who…?’ She trailed off, not knowing how to put it. Not knowing how Cade felt about it.

      ‘Used Alex as a punching bag?’ he supplied, the memories leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

      Callie refused to flinch at the harshness of his tone. ‘Yes.’

      Cade’s reply was clipped. ‘Yes.’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘That couldn’t have been easy. Growing up like that.’

      Cade snorted. That was an understatement. After Alex had been pushed to his limits and left, violence had given way to neglect as his father had drunk himself into a stupor. That’s when Cade had found solace and financial security in the bored, pampered women of Beverly Hills.

      ‘I’m curious about your relationship with Alex. Did you and he…?’

      Callie kicked up an eyebrow. Did Cade seriously think she would kiss and tell? ‘We’re friends,’ she said firmly. Yes, they’d had a crazy one-night stand, but they’d realised fairly quickly it had been a mistake and that they were better friends than lovers.

      And that was none of Cade’s damn business.

      ‘And that’s it?’ Cade frowned. ‘It’s just that…Alex is a very private person. I can’t begin to imagine him confiding in anybody about what happened to him…to us. He nearly lost Layla because he couldn’t open up to her.’

      Callie shrugged. She and Alex had just clicked. Maybe it had been their turbulent pasts and their insistence on absolute privacy that had drawn them together and cemented their friendship. Maybe it had been their feisty, outspoken personalities. Maybe it had been their utter respect for each other’s professional abilities.

      Or a combination of all of them.

      But to this day she still spoke to him more than she did to her own family. And she missed him and his pragmatism more than she ever would have thought possible. She was happy that he’d found love with Layla. Genuinely happy.

      ‘He never said very much,’ she clarified. Neither had she. They just weren’t spleen-venting kind of people. But they’d opened up more to each other than they’d ever done with anyone else. ‘I learned more from what he didn’t say.’

      ‘He told you he was a victim of domestic violence,’ Cade said. ‘That’s big for him.’ He’d barely even spoken to Cade about it, even though Cade had witnessed it on too many occasions to count.

      Callie shrugged. ‘I think he felt a certain sense of distance and…freedom on the other side of the world.’

      Cade was about to push some more but he could see an older couple coming through the doors and hailing a passing waiter. The man had a shock of red hair and a big ginger-going-to-grey fuzzy beard. ‘I think they’re here,’ he said.

      Callie turned, her pulse quickening. She waved at her parents and felt a familiar mix of emotions churning inside her. Love, affection, fondness, attachment.

      Disappointment. Anger. Regret.

      She turned to Cade. ‘Good to go?’ he asked. She nodded and he stood as Callie’s parents made their way over. Callie followed suit and then her mother hugged her followed by her father and she performed the introductions. Cade offered his chair to Callie’s mother so she and her husband could sit side by side, and then he joined Callie around her side of the table.

      ‘Well, that’s not a sight we see much back home,’ Duncan Richards said as he sat, nodding to the view out the window.

      ‘No, it’s quite something, isn’t it?’ Cade said.

      ‘So, you’re not from around these parts, then?’ Duncan asked, as the waiter handed out menus and another smile for Callie. Not that she noticed. She could feel her mother’s gaze on her, assessing her, trying to figure out where she’d gone wrong in the rearing of her daughter.

      Callie kept her eyes firmly fixed on the menu and let the men fill up the gaps about where Cade was from and the differences between the two countries. But she knew soon enough the conversation would get around to her and her life, and as soon as the waiter had taken their orders her mother dived in.

      ‘So how have you been, darling? It’s been such a long time since we’ve seen you. All your nieces and nephews are getting so big. You’re missing out on so much. And Anne-Marie is almost ready to pop with their fourth.’

      Margaret Richards sent a strained smile Cade’s way before returning her gaze to Callie. ‘You’re obviously enjoying yourself in the big smoke. Tell me all about your fabulous career. How many babies have you delivered now?’

      Cade would have had to be deaf not to hear the brittle emphasis on ‘fabulous’ and even though he had rebuked Callie earlier for her trivial complaints, he suddenly felt very sorry for her. Maybe it was worse to have someone who pretended they cared than someone who didn’t give a damn at all.

      Beneath the table he slid his hand onto Callie’s thigh and gave it a squeeze. As a show of support, of solidarity.