Reunited...in Paris!. Sue MacKay

them. ‘I’m not upset. Just surprised to see you. That’s all.’ If she said it often enough she might start believing herself. Glancing around, she was amazed at how quickly the chairs were filling. ‘I need to find a seat.’

      ‘Come on.’ Those fingers were back at her elbow, turning her toward the front. ‘Monsieur Leclare sent me to escort you to where you’re sitting with the other speakers.’

      ‘But I’m not on until tomorrow.’

      Ben led her along the side of the auditorium, again protecting her from the crowd. ‘All the speakers are requested to sit in the front row for the duration of the conference.’

      She hadn’t got that memo. So there’d be no getting away from Ben while she absorbed the shock of seeing him. Seeing him and hearing again that deep, gravelly voice she’d fallen in love with the first time he’d spoken to her would take some getting used to. Right now she didn’t have time to think about her reaction to him. You’re not angry with him any more. After all those years she shouldn’t be. That’d suggest she was still keeping him alive in her heart. And she definitely wasn’t doing that. Ben was history, no more, no less.

      ‘Madame Wells—the Heart Lady.’ Monsieur Leclare stood in front of her, greeting her with the traditional kisses to both cheeks. So typically European that her excitement began returning. ‘I’m thrilled to meet you in person, and thank you for coming so far to talk to us.’

      Tori listened carefully to his heavily accented English, and found him a smile. A Frenchman speaking her language was intriguing, and a little bit romantic—even if this cardiologist was in his sixties and looking decidedly the worse for wear. She’d done basic French at school in Auckland but the few times she’d tried to make herself understood since arriving in Nice yesterday hadn’t been very successful, her accent apparently a disaster. ‘Monsieur le docteur, I’m honoured and thrilled to be here.’

      ‘Please, I’m Luc. Is this is your first visit to France?’

      ‘Yes. Coming here has been on my bucket list since I was a teenager.’

      ‘Bucket list?’ he asked. ‘What is this?’

      ‘It’s a list of things I want to achieve in my lifetime. People make them all the time. Visiting Paris will be ticked off by the time I return home.’

      Ben wasn’t to be left out. ‘I imagine Tori’s got going to see the Moulin Rouge somewhere on that list. She loves shows.’

      ‘Ah … la liste de choses à faire. Now I understand.’ Luc smiled. ‘It is good you are going to Paris. It is the city of romance.’ He gave Ben a knowing nod. ‘My assistant will arrange a table at the show for you.’

      Tori quickly shook her head. ‘Thank you, but I’ve got other arrangements in place.’ And I’d only need one ticket.

      Luc was smiling happily and ignoring her reply. ‘No, you must go. It will be my pleasure.’

      Tori managed a thank-you. Going to the city of love on her own was pathetic enough, but going to Moulin Rouge alone, with a spare ticket? Downright tragic.

      Ben replied, ‘Thank you. We look forward to it.’

      Disappointment and envy unfurled inside Tori. Of course there’d be a woman in his life. The man didn’t do solo. Was she here at the hotel? Out spending bags of money while Ben was at the conference?

       Does it matter? You’re over him.

      ‘Madame Wells, Monsieur Wells, please be seated. I will talk to you some more tonight at the dinner.’

      Ben nodded before turning back to Tori. ‘Why haven’t you changed your surname back to Carter?’

      She didn’t want to talk about that. Not here. Not ever. She went for flip. ‘Think of the expense and all the messing around involved in changing practising licences, passport, the property title for the apartment. Far easier to leave things as they are.’

      ‘I’d have thought it would be the first thing you did on becoming single again.’ He looked bewildered, and a little pleased. ‘You’re still living in our apartment?’

      Forget it, Benji. It’s my apartment nowadays. If she was being honest she hadn’t moved out or changed her name because—well, because that meant the final cut from him, and at the time of their divorce she hadn’t been ready for that. ‘If it’s bugging you I’ll get on to sorting it the moment I get home.’ But she wouldn’t move out of the apartment that she’d always adored and where she’d created a little sanctuary for herself by repainting in different colours and changing the furniture to remove memories.

      Tori dropped onto the first vacant chair in the front row. Ben was here. In Nice. At the conference. Her stomach knotted.

      He stood beside her. ‘Do you mind if I join you?’

      ‘Do I have a choice?’ she snapped, then instantly regretted her tone. But she wanted to be alone. Okay, it was hard to be alone in the midst of hundreds of people, but if only Ben would go and sit somewhere else to give her time to get over their first meeting.

      He looked along the row, shook his head. ‘No, I’m afraid not.’ Then he smiled. ‘I promise I won’t cause you any trouble.’

      Translated, that meant he’d be charming and cordial so as to win her over, because he’d be hating it that she hadn’t fallen all over him. Charm was his modus operandi. It won him anything, anyone he aspired to. Well, it wouldn’t work with her. Not any more. ‘Fine.’ She crossed her legs and turned to face the stage directly in front.

      Except he’d already caused her trouble just by being here. Her tumbling emotions had her in a pickle. Benji had been her first love, her only love. Did that mean this was a normal reaction, and that once she’d got over the shock of seeing him she’d be able to hold a conversation with him without wanting to touch his arms, his chest, face? The air huffed over her bottom lip. Touch Ben? That would go down like a ton of bricks. He’d back off fast—which might be the answer to the situation.

      No, she’d try ignoring him, focus entirely on the speakers. Unfortunately it was too soon to put on the headphones supplied so attendees could hear translations in their own language when the talks started. Those would blank out Benji, but she’d have to wait. Sitting up straight, Tori breathed deeply. And smelt a scrummy combination of citrus and pine. ‘You still use the same aftershave.’

      He leaned close. ‘It’s my favourite.’

      Oh, blast. Had she really said that out loud? Now he’d definitely have the wrong idea. She tried shallow breathing to avoid smelling that scent. It didn’t work. Instead the air suddenly seemed full of the evocative, promise-laden smell, almost as though she was in a lemon grove surrounded by pine trees—with Benji. It overwhelmed her and brought back another memory. The aftershave had been an impulse buy after their first date. She’d wrapped it in white paper with red hearts printed on it. On their second date, when he’d taken her to bed for the first time, he’d stripped down to his undies—white ones with red hearts splashed across them.

      I’ve got to get out of here. I’ll stand at the back of the room. She began to push up on her feet. Loud applause broke out and Tori sank back down. Too late. She wasn’t moving anywhere. The conference had begun. Putting her hands together, she joined in.

      Monsieur Leclare stood in front of the microphone. ‘Mesdames et messieurs, welcome to the tenth European Cardiac Forum. We are lucky to have some wonderful speakers whom I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to listen to over the next three days.’

      Settling farther back on her chair, Tori pinched herself. I’m in France. At a conference of peers from all over Europe and America. Another pinch. Sitting beside my ex-husband. Her teeth clamped together. She suddenly felt ill.

      Then Benji moved, and his elbow touched her arm. She hated the warmth filtering through her, ramping up the tension that had been gripping her since she’d