Deserted Island, Dreamy Ex. Nicola Marsh

to confront tennis boy, finally get some closure.’

      The instant denial they’d had closure eight years ago died on her lips.

      He’d walked in on her in that dress, had reneged on their dinner plans and avoided her calls afterwards. Except to call her from the airport before boarding his plane for Florida; and she preferred to forget what had transpired during that gem of a phone call.

      Meg was right. While the promotion and prize money were huge incentives to spend a week with Jared stranded on an island, getting closure was the clincher.

      Standing, Kristi shot Meg a rueful smile. ‘Remind me never to ask for your advice again.’

      ‘Don’t ask if you don’t want to hear the truth.’

      That was what scared Kristi the most. In confronting Jared, would she finally learn the truth?

      About what really went wrong in their relationship all those years ago?

      Elliott ordered another double-shot espresso, slid his wire-rimmed glasses back on, peered over them.

      ‘What gives between you and Kristi Wilde? I’ve never heard you mention her.’

      Jared dismissed Elliott’s curiosity with a wave of his hand.

      ‘Old history.’

      ‘A history I have a feeling I need to know before we get this project underway.’

      Elliott tapped his stack of documents. ‘There were enough sparks flying between the two of you to set this lot alight and I don’t want anything threatening to scuttle this documentary before it’s off the ground. So what’s the story?’

      ‘I met her when I first moved to Sydney. Spent a few months hanging out, having fun, before I headed for training camp at Florida. That’s it.’

      ‘All sounds very simple and uncomplicated.’

      ‘It is.’

      Jared downed a glass of water before he was tempted to tell Elliott the rest.

      The way she was totally unlike any of the women in his usual social circle back in Melbourne. Her lack of pretence, lack of artificialities, lack of cunning. The way she used to look at him, with laughter and warmth and genuine admiration in her eyes. The way she made him feel, as if he didn’t have a care in the world and didn’t have the responsibility of living up to expectation hanging around his neck like a stone.

      No, he couldn’t tell his mate any of that, for voicing his trip down memory lane might catapult him right back to a place he’d rather not be: hurting a woman he cared about.

      Elliott rested his folded arms on the table, leaned forward with a shake of his head.

      ‘Only problem is, my friend, I know you, and simple and uncomplicated are not words I’d use to describe you or any of your relationships.’

      ‘It wasn’t a relationship,’ he said, an uneasy stab making a mockery of that.

      While they’d never spelled it out as such, they’d spent every spare moment in each other’s company, had spent every night together, had painted this city red, blue, white and any other damn colour, and belittling what they had to assuage his friend’s curiosity didn’t sit well with him.

      ‘Then what was it?’

      The best time of his life.

      The first woman he’d ever been involved with.

      The first person he’d allowed close enough to care.

      The first time he’d allowed himself to feel anything other than caution and judgement and bitterness.

      He’d been numb after escaping his parents’ bizarre turnaround when they suddenly started acknowledging he existed, had been driven to succeed, to utilise the talent he’d uncovered through their neglect.

      Melbourne had held nothing but bad memories and newly clinging parents for him and moving to Sydney had been as much about fresh starts as fostering his career.

      Though she hadn’t known it at the time, Kristi had been a saviour: a friend, a lover, a distraction, all rolled into one.

      And when she’d got too close … well, he’d done the only thing he could.

      He’d run.

      ‘Kristi and I dated casually. We had fun.’

      ‘And you didn’t break her heart?’

      He hadn’t stuck around long enough for that; had made sure of it.

      ‘Would she be taking part in your little social experiment if I had?’

      Apparently satisfied, Elliott nodded, his glasses sliding down his nose as he absent-mindedly pushed them back up.

      ‘Good point. She seemed feisty. I reckon she would’ve skewered you if you’d done a number on her.’

      ‘Too right.’

      Not that he agreed with his friend’s assessment. Back then, Kristi had had vulnerability written all over her. She’d acted as if she didn’t care but he’d seen the signs, had caught the unguarded longing stares she’d cast him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

      Then there was that bridal shower she’d been so hyped about, throwing a huge shindig at her apartment for her room-mate, her incessant chatter of gowns and registries and invitations sending a shudder through him.

      Marriage was never on the cards for him and just being close to all that hearts and flowers crap made his gut roil.

      Then he’d walked in on her one day, standing in front of a cheval mirror, wearing a shiny white wedding gown and a beatific smile. If that vision hadn’t sent a ripple of horror through him, her words had.

      ‘It’ll be our turn next.’

      Not a hope in Hades.

      So he’d pulled back, brought forward his departure date to a Florida training camp, said goodbye with a phone call. He’d taken the coward’s way out but, the way he saw it, he’d made the right decision.

      He’d never promised Kristi anything, had made it clear from the start their dating had a time limit. Wasn’t his fault she’d interpreted it as anything other than what it was: a casual fling, fun while it lasted.

      ‘If you two parted amicably, does that mean you’re going to pick up where you left off on the island?’

      ‘For your nosy viewers to see? Not likely.’

      As the words tumbled easily he had to admit he’d wondered the same thing himself, the thought crossing his mind the instant she’d strutted in here with her shoulders squared for battle and her eyes flashing fire.

      ‘Too bad. Would’ve been nice to add a little romance to the mix.’

      With a shake of his head, Jared stood. ‘You’re a sap.’

      ‘No, I’m a producer after ratings.’

      Throwing a few notes on the table, Elliott hoisted his load into his arms and stood too.

      ‘And sex sells, my friend.’

      Jared grunted in response, a certain part of him agreeing with Elliott, with the faintest hope Kristi would too.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      Stranded Survival Tip #4

      They’re playing our song. Pity it’s the theme song from Titanic.

      AS KRISTI spritzed her custom-made patchouli perfume behind her ears, on her pulse points, her hand shook, the infernal buzz of nerves in her tummy hard to subdue.

      No matter how many times she mentally recited tonight was about fine-tuning details for their week on Lorikeet Island, she couldn’t ignore the fact catching up with Jared