Page 23 of The Friend

She turned away, but not before he glimpsed the heat shimmering in her eyes turning them to liquid sapphire and he wished he had his camera to capture her expression: passionate, glowing, yet strangely shy.

“So you feel this too?”

Her tentative question slammed into him, making him feel like a caveman for taking what he could get from that kiss without delving into what was bugging her earlier.

“That’s what you wanted to talk about? You’re attracted to me?”

She rolled her eyes, some of her telltale sass evident in the slight twitching of her lips. “What do you think?”

“I think we’re crazy for messing with something this good. We’ve been friends for a long time. But I can’t stop thinking about you since last night, can’t stop thinking about how great it could be if we lost our minds and went for it.”

There, he’d said it. Let it all hang out in the hope she’d be sensible enough for both of them. He saw the doubt in her eyes, sure it was a reflection of his. But it was too late for doubts. This was it, crunch time.

Friends or lovers?

Both, if he had any say in it.

“We’ve been friends foryears,” she said, her fingers gripping his for dear life. “Why now? It’s crazy.”

He couldn’t agree more. “Crazy.”

“And you know we can’t let this thing affect our friendship, right?”

“Right,” he said, hope building with every word she uttered.

Her lips curved upwards in a blinding smile that took his breath away. “I guess there’s no harm in trying? You’ll be travelling the world again by the end of the week, we’ll revert to our old friendship as if nothing happened. Whatever we do on the island stays on the island, right?”

He hesitated, hating the tiny white lie he’d have to tell in order to satisfy his unquenchable thirst for this woman.

“Right,” he said, wondering how she’d feel if she knew of his plans to stay in Sydney and his desperate need to discover if there was more to life than the constant buzz of travel, photography, and money.

“In that case, let’s go crazy.” Pulling him up from the sand, she laughed at his stunned expression. “Don’t look so scared, Calloway. I promise I’ll be gentle.”

“That’s not what I’m afraid of,” he said, holding her hand tight as he fell into step beside her as they strolled back towards the hotel.

Chapter Nine

“Imust be crazy,” Abby muttered, her hands shaking as she stabbed a spray of frangipani into her French roll.

The hairdresser and makeup artist had done a great job, but her hair had needed a finishing touch and she adored the beautiful fragrant flower growing wild all over the island.

“Told you this modelling stuff is hard work,” Tara said, fussing around her like a mother hen as she tugged and primped at the tea-rose, silk-chiffon gown that fit Abby like a glove, much to her disgust.

“There.” Tara stood back and appraised her. “Perfect.”

Abby grimaced, reluctant to admit she looked good. She could barely recognise herself; lucky, considering she needed a confidence mask when she faced Judd so soon after their revealing conversation earlier.

“This is all wrong.”

Tara shook her head, her trademark red locks flowing around her shoulders in blowout perfection. “You look amazing. With the hots for that sexy groom of yours,” she added, with a cheeky grin.

Having the hots for Judd was an understatement, not that she’d let Tara in on the fact.

“How did I get myself into this?”

“Simple. You took one look into those dreamy hazel eyes and melted like any red-blooded woman would.”

“I don’t melt. And for your information, I talked him into helping me.”

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