Page 29 of Journey to You

Would Tam want more? He doubted it, considering she’d talked about new beginnings and a fresh start as an independent woman, and believing her only encouraged him to indulge their attraction, guilt free.

For now, he was content to date her, see what happened. If things got too heavy, he knew what he had to do: run.

He’d learned the art of fleeing emotional commitment from the best: his mother. He’d loved her, secure she returned the sentiment, until his childish delusions had been ripped from under him, leaving him a homeless orphan with a mother who’d rather be on her own than stuck with a five year old.

“What’s wrong?”

He blinked, wrenched back to the present by her tentative question, her hand on his arm, and he mentally dusted himself off.

Today wasn’t a day for sour memories.

Today was a day for creating brilliant new ones.

“I’m thinking about where we go from here.”

Not a lie, exactly. He’d been stewing over their future since yesterday, since they’d opened an emotional Pandora’s box at the Taj Mahal.

He wanted this, wanted more than friendship with this incredibly special woman. Then why couldn’t he rid himself of the faintest mantra stuck on rewind in the back of his mind, the one that chanted ‘be careful what you wish for.’

He’d always been ambitious, driven to succeed, craving control to stave off the darkness that crept into his soul at the oddest of times, a darkness filled with depressing memories of physical abuse and living on the streets and starving to the point of desperation.

Being one hundred percent focussed on business had served him well. Until now, when contemplating taking the next step with Tam smashed his legendary control like a soup tureen being flung by a temperamental chef.

He half expected her to baulk at the question, to shirk it. Instead, she fixed him with those mesmerising green eyes, eyes he could happily get lost in forever.

“Honestly? I have no idea where we go from here. I’m in Goa for the next week, you’re doing business.” She plucked at the grass beneath her hands, picking blades and letting them fall. “I guess we wait until we’re back in Melbourne and see what happens.”

For some strange reason her answer filled him with relief when he should be pushing her, ensuring she wouldn’t back off once their journey together ended today.

What the hell was happening to him?

He enjoyed the thrill of the chase as much as the next guy but usually didn’t tire of something once possessed—until the woman in question wanted to possess him.

So why was he feeling uncertain, uneasy, unhinged?

“You’re not happy about that?”

He forced a smile, tension sneaking up the back of his neck and bringing on one of the classic headaches reserved for day-long meetings when starting up a new restaurant. “We’ve comea long way in a week. Maybe I’m expecting us to revert back to acquaintances when we get home?”

A tiny frown puckered her brow as she pushed up to a sitting position. “That’s not like you. You’re the optimistic one, I’m the confirmed pessimist.”

What could he say? That he didn’t trust what they had? That it was too new, too unsteady, too fleeting? That he didn’t trust easily, period?

Reaching out, she draped a hand over his, and squeezed softly. “There’s more. Tell me.”

If he looked for excuses long enough he’d find them and at that moment a veritable smorgasbord flooded his mind, leaving him to choose the juiciest one.

“The press hounded you for weeks after Richard’s death. What do you think they’ll do when they discover we’re dating?”

Her frown intensified as her hand slid off his. “They’ll probably say I’m some kind of trumped up tart that waited until her dearly beloved husband was cold in the ground for a year before moving on from the chef to the billionaire restaurateur where he worked. So what? It’s all crap. Who cares what they say?”

But she was worried. He saw it in the telltale flicker in her eyes, in the pinched mouth. If Tam had tolerated the constant publicity barrage being married to Richard entailed, she cared about appearances, and no matter how much she protested now, he knew the first hint of scandal in the tabloids back home would send her scuttling for cover.

Where would that leave him? Content to sit back and watch from the sidelines? He’d be damned if he settled for that again.

“As long as you’re sure—”

“Of course I’m not sure.” She jumped to her feet, eyes flashing, hands clenched, more irritated than he’d ever seen her. “Youwanted this.”

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