Page 29 of The Rules of Their Red-Hot Reunion

He rocked, she responded, igniting a million detonators, setting off a chain reaction of need and want and passion. Chemistry was too tame a word for what he did to her, how he made her feel. Aisha gasped as he rocked deeper into her, she tightened her legs and pushed down and, deep down inside her, stars collided and galaxies exploded.

God, she’d missed him so much. Missed this. Missed him in her body.

And in her life.

Early the next morning Aisha left Pasco sleeping in his king-sized bed and, after pulling on his button-down shirt, padded across his enormous bedroom, skirted the small lounge within his enormous sleeping quarters, and glanced right and...

Stopped.

How could she not?

The sky was awash with shades of pink and purple, accompanied by the music of the sea drumming the rocks below his deck. Entranced by the magical colours, Aisha walked over to frameless folding doors, found the mechanism to slide them open, grateful when the doors opened without a whisper of a sound.

She needed a moment alone, to stand in the magical light and bliss out on the incredible view.

Aisha walked onto the patio running the length of the apartment, skirted the long lap pool, stopping to dip her toe into the water—it was heated, of course—and leaned her elbows on the glass balustrade, also unframed. She recognised the beach to her right as being Moses Beach, a highly desirable location. From Pasco’s apartment one could enjoy outstanding views of the sea, white sand, and the incredible tip of Africa sky.

The only thing that would make this view any better would be a cup of coffee.

And, possibly, a lobotomy.

Exquisite sunrise or not, there was no getting around the fact she’d slept with her ex last night, the man she needed to work with for the next month. Slept with? Ha, no! She’d devoured him, all but climbed inside him. They’d started in the hallway, moved onto the open-plan reception lounge—she recalled massive cream couches and outstanding, vibrant, oversized art—and finally made it to his bedroom, where they’d rolled around on his California king. Lord, they’d even shared his shower, exchanging long languid kisses and indulging in some heavy petting.

Aisha gently banged her forehead on the edge of the glass balustrade, wondering if she’d completely lost her mind. What had she been thinking? Had she been thinking at all?

She’d been here before, been enthralled by Pasco, and she hadn’t liked playing second fiddle to his career and his priorities. She’d vowed never to give him—any man—that sort of power over her again. She didn’t trust love, couldn’t rely on it—it was a lesson her family had taught her and Pasco had reinforced—so she had to focus on what she could control, what she could rely on. And that was her work. Becoming involved with Pasco, even at a purely superficial level, would be a distraction from what she needed to do at St Urban.

She didn’t have the time for a fling, for a lover, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted. She was so close to the goal she’d set for herself when she first joined Lintel & Lily all those years ago.

She would not let her intense and inconvenient attraction to her ex-husband and current work colleague impact her professionalism. She was better than that. She’d obey the rules.

Aisha looked at the oversized men’s watch on her wrist, saw that it was just past six, and thought about calling for an Uber to run her back to Priya’s place so she could collect her car and then she’d head back to Franschhoek. She wanted to avoid any early-morning awkwardness with Pasco and she thought putting a little time and distance between them would be a very good thing.

Running again, Shetty?

She pulled a face at the still gorgeous sky—lighter now—and sighed. She was an adult and should be able to have a reasonable, intelligent conversation with the man who’d rocked her world last night. She was sure, well, mostly sure, she wouldn’t do anything stupid, like make love to him on one of those two-seater lounges as the sun rose. One night and she was already looking for another Pasco-induced high. Another and she might become addicted. Aisha sighed.

No, she wouldn’t run, but when she mustered the courage to walk back into his bedroom and wake him up—but only after a cup of coffee or three—she’d tell him that their sleeping together was a lapse in judgement, a step out of time, that it couldn’t happen again.

They had to work together and to do that they needed to be professional and uninvolved.

She would not let her attraction to her husband—ex-husband dammit!—impact her work. She had a promotion to secure, a life to lock in, a house to buy.

She’d learned one lesson from Pasco—along with never making quick decisions and that love was a farce—and that was to put her career first.

He was, after all, brilliant at doing just that.

‘Pretty sunrise.’

His voice behind her made her skin prickle, and Aisha turned around to look at him, standing in the doorway to the open-plan lounge, two coffee cups in his hands, steam rising from the surface. He wore a pair of lightweight cotton trousers and his pale grey T-shirt clung to his broad chest. His golden-brown hair looked messy, his three-day-old beard was thicker this morning and he had a pillow crease across his right cheek.

He looked amazing.

Pasco skirted the outdoor furniture, walked over to her, and pushed a cup into her hands. He lifted his to the sky in a silent toast.

‘It was lovelier earlier, streaks of deep pinks and purples and golds,’ Aisha told him, wrapping her hands around the mug.

Pasco sipped before responding. ‘I think this is the best place to watch the sunrise, better even than Table Mountain. I remember visiting a school friend’s house in this area when I was about ten or eleven and seeing a sunrise like this. I vowed that I would some day own a house right on the beach.’

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