By Request Collection 1. Jackie Braun

water. This wasn’t the simple sailing boat she’d seen in Blake’s brochure, even though that, too, had been a luxury in her eyes.

      This was a floating palace. With its sleek white lines, it reminded her of a powerful beast waiting to be unleashed. She could visualise it slicing through the water with Blake at the helm. And that was probably where he’d be tomorrow, or the next day when his business with her was concluded.

      And then she saw him. On the deck. In slim-fitting dark trousers and a white shirt open at the neck with the cuffs rolled back. Her heart stopped, then beat at double time. Their gazes met. Held for what seemed like eternity while the water lapped and the foody aroma from the nearby waterside restaurants wafted on the air. She could do this. She could.

      Still watching her, he walked down the gangplank towards her. She could have a civilised meal then walk away.

      ‘Good evening, Lissa.’

      His tone was welcoming, if a little formal and, oh, how she’d missed that deep rich voice. But she could live without it. ‘Hello.’

      He barely glanced at the chauffeur. ‘Thank you, Max. That’ll be all for now.’

      He reached out and sifted his fingers through the hair curling over her shoulders. She had time to breathe in his musky scent before he stepped back.

      ‘Thank you for the dress. It’s beautiful.’

      ‘You make it so. And you’re welcome.’

      He leaned forward, touched cool dry lips to her cheek. Smooth skin. He’d shaved recently and smelled sinfully good for such a chaste kiss. She could feel the last of her strength draining out of her.

      ‘I hope you haven’t eaten already,’ he said, placing a warm palm at the small of her bare back to guide her onto the boat.

      She almost sighed at the contact before arching away and quickening her steps. She looked at the luxury surrounding her. ‘This is a magnificent yacht.’

      ‘I sold off most of my investments to buy it.’

      She stared up at the stern’s fibreglass U-shaped structure, which arched over a comfortable table setting with satin wicker chairs. Down-lights reflected on the table set for two with silver cutlery and white china. A candle glowed inside a tall glass.

      Through a wide open doorway she could see a spacious living room. Thick blue carpet, polished wood and brass fittings, over-stuffed leather chairs and a bar with hidden lighting that sparkled with rows of bottles. ‘This is all too overwhelming. You’ve been gone a month and now.’

      ‘Twenty-six days, actually.’

      She knew. Twenty-six days and thirteen hours.

      A uniformed waiter appeared with a silver tray. Lissa recognised him from the catering company they’d used for the launch party.

      ‘Would you care for a prawn tail with wasabi and lemon sauce?’ Blake asked.

      Her stomach writhed with nerves and nausea. She set her flowers on the table. ‘I won’t be dining with you. I came tonight because you went to such a lot of trouble to get me here, and I felt a little sorry for Max, but I need to know what you want. And I need to know now. Then I’ll be leaving. We won’t see each other again.’

      Blake’s demeanour changed. His jaw tightened and she saw his fingers flex at his sides. So his night wasn’t going according to plan? Neither was hers.

      He glanced at the waiter, waved him off. ‘Take a break, Nathan.’

      Lissa took the opportunity to move to the railing and looked out over the myriad boats bobbing on the water. From that distance she made herself turn to face him. And, oh, she wished she didn’t have to because looking at him made her want to tell him things she knew he wouldn’t want to hear.

      ‘In your text you suggested moving on with our lives. I thought that’s what we were doing.’

      ‘I thought so too. Until a week ago.’

      He took a step towards her but she held up a hand. ‘Don’t come any closer. Please, Blake.’ She latched onto the only reason she could think of. ‘You found someone to lease the house and you want me to vacate, right?’

      He seemed to consider a moment. ‘It’s true, I want you to vacate the house.’ His eyes were dark and steady on hers. ‘Because I want you to live here on this boat. With me.’

      The simplicity of his words—and the shock—pinned her feet to the deck. She gripped the railing for support. He wanted her to live with him. But he wanted it all his way. He was suggesting what was essentially a convenient live-in arrangement. She’d been there, done that, had the restraining order to prove it. No one was going to use her as a convenience again.

      ‘We’ve played this scene before. I thought I already made it clear to you that I’m committed to my career—’

      ‘I love you, Lissa.’

      ‘That I—’

      ‘I don’t want to spend another day or another night without you.’

      He took another step closer and this time she didn’t try to stop him. Because she was too busy trying to breathe. To stay upright. To process the implications of what he was saying.

      ‘And you think because you tell me you love me.’ she hitched in a breath as she said the words and tightened her grip on the railing ‘… I’ll give up all I’ve worked towards for you?’

      ‘No.’ His gaze reached out to her, holding her captive as he walked towards her. ‘I’m going to stay here, in Mooloolaba, because here is where you are.’

      What little breath she had left rushed out. She sucked in more salt-laden air. ‘What happened to feeling the sea breeze in your face and dropping anchor wherever you please?’

      ‘I thought that’s what I wanted. But now I know I want you more.’ He pushed a hand through his hair. ‘For God’s sake, Lissa, put me out of this hell I’m in and say yes. Tell me you love me back. Tell me what we had wasn’t just a fling.’

      She looked up at him, his face taut in the spill of light. She’d never seen such raw vulnerability in his face before. She’d never seen his expression so. open. ‘I do love you,’ she said softly. ‘I always have and I always will. You were the one who always talked about leaving. And you were the one who called it a fling.’

      ‘I heard you talking to Jared.’

      Oh. And she felt a small smile touch her lips momentarily. ‘Don’t you know not to eavesdrop on private conversations?’

      ‘Lissa …’

      ‘It was never a fling, not to me. No, don’t touch me.’ She stepped away from his outstretched hand. ‘Not yet. I want to know what made you come back.’

      The haunted look she’d seen so often flickered behind his eyes. ‘I realised I wanted to live before they bury me.’

      ‘Torque …’

      He nodded.

      Then he didn’t give her time to move. He gathered her up into his arms and held her close so she could hear his heart beating solidly beneath her ear. And she wanted to stay there in his safe and solid embrace for ever. He tucked her head beneath his chin and she knew he was looking out over the horizon.

      ‘I felt his soul leave his body, Lissa, as I dragged him across the sand. I still hear the gunfire sometimes.’

      ‘The nightmares …’ Lissa whispered. ‘You still have them.’

      ‘Not as often.’ He took a deep breath, stroked her hair. ‘He was only eighteen. Thousands of miles from home. He’d barely begun to live and he was dead already.’

      ‘I know.’ She curled her hand against his heart. ‘You need to learn to forgive yourself.’

      ‘I’m