Best Of Makeovers Bundle Part 58

"This isn't just fun anymore and we both know it. Anna, I love you," he said, trying to pull her close.

But she dug her heels in, eyes wide as she held herself away from him.

"No, you don't. It's just the s.e.x. That's all. It'll pa.s.s," she said. It sounded like something she'd said to herself a hundred times.

"No, it's not. I love you. I want to share my life with you. I don't want to go back to separate beds and stupid rules about no strings, no future."

She stared at him, then she crossed her arms over her chest and turned away. Fis.h.i.+ng her bra from the forest floor, she slid it on and fastened the clasp with shaking hands. He watched her, frowning. What was going on? He knew she felt something for him.

She turned back to him once she had her tank top back on.

"I'm sorry, Marc, but it's over," she said. It was the last thing he'd expected.

"What?"

"I don't want a relations.h.i.+p. I explained that to you right at the start. Sorry, but that's just the way it is."

"I didn't want one, either, but we're great together, Anna," he said, not quite believing this. "I know you feel something for me. This has been about a lot more than s.e.x for a long time."

"Maybe," she conceded. "Which is why it's best to end things now. You're a good-looking, successful guy, Marc-you'll meet someone else. Believe me, I have nothing to offer you."

"That's bull, and you know it!"

She threw a hand in the air, and he saw that she was close to tears.

He reached for her. "Anna..."

"Just leave it, Marc. I want to go back to the hotel."

Pus.h.i.+ng him away, she headed back toward the road. Frowning, hurt and confused, Marc stared after her. What the h.e.l.l was going on?

ANNA STARTED PACKING the moment she got back to the villa. Marc lingered downstairs, and when he at last joined her in the bedroom he surveyed her half-filled suitcase with disbelieving eyes.

"There's a flight out this evening. I'm going to see if I can get a seat."

She couldn't look at him. She felt as though she was going to be sick, all her feelings were pushed down so hard inside her. She flinched when he crossed the room and slammed her case shut.

"You're not going anywhere until we talk. Tell me what this is about, Anna."

"It's over, Marc. We agreed, when one of us wanted out, that was it. I want out," she said. It would have been more convincing if her voice hadn't quavered, but she'd said it.

He reached out, pulling her to him. Catching her chin, he forced her head up so she was looking him in the eye.

"Now say it. Tell me you don't love me and I'll let you go."

She swallowed unshed tears and steeled herself to hold his eye. "I don't love you."

"Liar."

But he let her go. Hands shaking, she jammed the rest of her clothes into her case, then began checking the wardrobe and drawers for anything she may have left behind. He stood watching her for a while, then he turned on his heel and left. She heard the slam of the front door as he left the villa, and sank onto the edge of the bed.

Sobs shook her body. It was the hardest thing she'd ever done. Harder than nursing her mother those last few weeks. Harder than sitting opposite her doctor and hearing the bad news about her own diagnosis.

Hauling in a deep breath, she wiped her arm across her eyes. She had to keep moving, get this over and done with. It was best for both of them. One day, Marc would thank her, she knew.

THE SKY IN SYDNEY SEEMED brighter, wider when Marc returned home. A car was waiting at the airport, and he handed his case to the driver and slid into the backseat.

Impossible not to think of Anna when he saw the driver get into the front, his chauffeur's cap perched on his head. Brooding, Marc stared out the window as they pulled away from the curb.

She'd been gone when he got back to the villa. He'd been tempted to follow her, but pride held him at the hotel. He'd seen out the remaining two days of their holiday, given her some breathing room. But he wasn't giving up. They were meant for each other. He knew it in his bones, and he was not going to rest until he'd gotten to the bottom of her rejection.

If she truly didn't love him, if there was some root cause that would stop them being together, then he would walk away. But he hadn't achieved the status of millionaire by thirty by giving up on things he wanted.

There were other issues to sort out before he tackled Anna again, however. Pulling his mobile phone from his carry-on bag, he hit the speed dial for his old home in Balmain. As luck would have it, John answered the call.

"Is Tara there?" he asked. Surprisingly, he felt only a mild twinge at the thought of the other man occupying his former home.

There was a long silence, then Tara picked up the line. "Marc. How can I help you?" She was wary, cautious.

"I need to talk. Can I come over?" he asked bluntly.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said hesitantly. "John's here."

"I don't give a toss about John. I need to ask you something."

She said yes, and half an hour later he was exiting the car in front of the gracious double-fronted Victorian terrace that he had once shared with Tara. It felt like a lifetime ago.

She opened the door before he could knock, showing him into the front living room.

"You look very tan. Have you been on holiday?" she asked politely.

"Bali," he said briefly.

"I see. Can I get you a coffee? Or something else to drink?" she asked, hands clenched tightly in front of her.

"Relax, Tara, I'm not here to beat my chest."

Her shoulders dropped a margin and she studied him closely. "Then why are you here, Marc?"

"You said I never asked. But I want to know now. Why did you have an affair? Why did our marriage fall apart?"

She sat opposite him, her eyes sad. "Marc, we never saw each other. It was inevitable, even if I hadn't had an affair. You were obsessed with the business. So driven. And before you say that I was happy to reap the benefits of your hard work, I know that. I let it happen, too. But there are more important things. Love. Companions.h.i.+p. Pa.s.sion. But the only thing you seemed interested in was being the provider, the big money earner."

He stared at her, feeling his defenses bristling. "That was my job. I was the husband last time I looked."

"But it wasn't a life sentence, Marc. I was always happy to share the burden. But you wouldn't let me work. And you wouldn't even talk about starting a family until you had all your ducks in a row-the business earning a certain amount, the right house, the right cars. I realized one day that it was never going to be enough for you."

"That wasn't true. I was ready to try for kids," he said, but the words sounded hollow even to his own ears.

"With who? Me, the stranger you occasionally brushed past in the hallway?" Tara wiped a tear off her cheek. "I was lonely, Marc. And I should have had the courage to get out of our marriage before I started anything with John. But I wasn't brave enough. I knew how much it meant to you that our marriage was a success. I didn't want to hurt you."

"Nice job." But there was no sting in his words.

"Yeah, I know," she said.

There was a long silence as he processed what she'd said and realized that it was mostly accurate. He had been an absentee husband. He had been obsessed with ensuring their security. And it seemed that his obsession had cost him his marriage.

"I know that being different from your father is very important to you. When we were married, I always knew that I never had to worry about you being unfaithful, because you were so determined to be better than him, a good provider and a loyal husband. The saddest thing of all is that in trying to be everything that your father wasn't, you pushed me away. You might as well have been off with some other woman, or doing a stint picking grapes or harvesting apples," she said.

"Believe me now, they're two very different things. You should talk to my mother sometime," he said, unable to let Tara paint it all her way.

"No. You're right. I'm sorry," she conceded. "But the fact remains that you simply weren't there most of the time. I was lonely."

Marc's hands were locked together, and he was fighting the urge to deny all the things Tara was piling on him. She had played a part in the dissolution of their marriage, too. But he also knew she was right. Deep in his heart he knew it was true.

It was an ugly irony that in dedicating himself to being the "perfect" husband, the ultimate provider, he had destroyed any chance his marriage had had. He'd thought that being faithful to Tara and ensuring their security was enough. But he hadn't been present, he knew that in his gut. He'd been busy elsewhere. And his wife had forged her own life despite him.

He looked up to find Tara watching him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I made you unhappy," he said, and he meant it.

Another tear rolled down her cheek. "We made each other unhappy, Marc. If I had had the courage of my convictions, if I'd spoken up when you first started slipping away from me, we might have had a chance. But I wasn't brave enough. I've never been very courageous, I'm afraid. But I'm getting there. I've had to."

Another long silence stretched between them.

"Can I ask you something?" Tara asked tentatively.

"Of course."

"It's personal," she warned. "Have you met someone else? Is that why you're here?"

"Yes."

Tara smiled. "I'm glad. And I'm glad you came to talk. You'll make someone else a great husband, you know. Just as I'm going to make John a great wife. Maybe our marriage was the mistake we both had to make before we could find ourselves."

Marc s.h.i.+fted in his seat. "It wasn't all bad," he defended lightly. "I distinctly remember some good times."

"So do I." She just smiled at him, and he realized that he couldn't find a shred of resentment or anger toward her.

His marriage was truly over. And he was ready to move on. With Anna, if he could just work out what was driving her.

He stood, offering Tara his hand. "Thanks. You've been...extremely helpful."

Tara ignored his hand and embraced him, her cheek cool against his. "Look after yourself, Marc. And good luck. She's a lucky woman."

He only hoped that he could convince Anna to share the same opinion.

12.

IT WAS AMAZING how a person could still function when it felt as though her heart had been ripped out of her chest and stomped on. It had been four days since Anna had come home from Bali on her own. Her tan was fading. But every day the ache in her chest grew more painful. She'd done the right thing, though. She'd said it to herself so many times now that it had become a mantra. And she believed it, she really did. But it didn't make the pain go away.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, she decided she looked awful. Her skin seemed waxy despite her tan, her eyes dead. She told herself it was because she couldn't sleep. But she knew it was because she was grieving. For so many things. The loss of her childhood when she'd nursed her mother through the final weeks of her illness. For the loss of the woman she could have been, if she hadn't had the specter of death hovering over her world. For Marc, for the love they'd shared. For those few amazing weeks of joy, pleasure and pain.

Sighing, she pulled open the vanity cabinet and dragged out her makeup bag. Blusher and a heavy hand with some sparkly eye shadow made her look presentable. She tried a smile. Academy Awardwinning.

"G.o.d, you look terrible," Danny said the moment he opened the door. "What did they do to you in Bali?"

"Thanks a lot," she said, shoving her gift at him and moving past him into his open-plan warehouse apartment.

Movement caught her eye and she turned to see Ben getting up from the sofa.

"Ben," she said, surprised. Her brother had invited her over for dinner, and she'd a.s.sumed it would just be the two of them. Had been looking forward to it, actually. She needed very badly to unburden herself right now, even just a little. Even just to tell him things were over with Marc felt as though it would be a release.

"Hi," Ben said. "How was Bali?"

She realized he looked nervous. What was going on here? She turned to Danny, and caught him mid complicated eyebrow semaph.o.r.e with Ben.

"Have I interrupted something?" she asked, glancing back and forth between the two of them.

"No," Ben said at exactly the same time that her brother said, "Yes."

"Okay," she said. She switched her attention to Danny. "Do you want to reschedule? We can do this another time."

"You haven't interrupted anything," Danny clarified. "It's just that Ben thinks we should wait a little longer before we start publicizing. But you know me-boots and all."

Anna frowned as her brother crossed to stand beside the other man, putting his arm around him. She smiled as realization dawned.

"Ohhhh," she said, nodding knowingly. "You guys got together at last, yeah?"

"Yep. Ben's moving in with me," Danny said. She couldn't help but notice the slightly defiant note to his voice. It was so typically Danny to go from one extreme to another like this. Only he could switch from being the poster boy for partying to suddenly becoming Mr. Committed in the s.p.a.ce it took her to go to Bali and ruin her life.

"That's great," she said, and she meant it. Okay, a year ago she would have been freaking on the inside, worried her brother was moving too quickly. But she knew better now. Life was for living. If he and Ben had a chance at happiness, they should go for it.

"We know it's early days," Ben said, obviously worried about what she thought. "But we both feel strongly. When you know, you know. You know?"

"I know," Anna said, aware there was a sad note in her voice. Oh, how she knew.

"Great, well, that's one down. Just Dad to go," Danny said, moving away from Ben and heading for the kitchen.

"What?" Anna said, shocked. "You're going to tell Dad?"

Danny took the lid off a steaming pot on the stove. "We're having carbs. Pasta, in fact. I know they're a no-no after six but Ben loves pasta." He shot the other man an indulgent look.

Anna batted off his distraction. "Danny. You can't just drop something like that and expect me not to react. You've decided to come out to Dad?"