Chapter 1

Chapter One

A s the rented SUV swerved on the dusty, potholed driveway of the Mancini place and she over-corrected, Brittany Lloyd bit back a curse.

Her average driving skills had little to do with the state of the road or the unwelcome memories assailing her and everything to do with the naked man bent over a thresher.

Semi-naked, technically, as her gaze riveted to the tantalising expanse of bronze, broad back glistening in the scorching Queensland sun. The muscles shifted and bunched as he straightened, and thrust his hands into the back pockets of ripped, faded denim, and as her greedy gaze strayed to his butt, she wished she hadn't stayed away so long.

Ten years in London had been a sane choice, a safe choice, considering what she'd been running from, but seeing this hot guy on her first morning back home reinforced no place on earth bred guys like Jacaranda.

She should know. She'd fallen in love with one, had given him her heart, her virginity, and her loyalty.

More fool her.

As her car approached, the guy turned and this time, the SUV sheered straight off the driveway and into a ditch.

The engine stalled, spluttered, and died as her white-knuckled hands gripped the steering wheel, shock slamming into her, leaving her powerless to do anything but watch him approach.

Not a flicker of emotion crossed Nick Mancini's face as he reached the car, rested tanned, toned forearms on the open driver's side window, and gave a casual nod.

'Hey, Britt. Long time no see.' A casual greeting without rancour or bitterness.

Then again, she'd been the one left to pick up the pieces when he ended their relationship.

The lack of emotion in his greeting didn't do justice to what they'd shared, what they'd given up, and she'd be damned if she showed him anything other than the same lackadaisical nonchalance despite her jack-hammering heart and clammy hands.

‘If you call ten years give or take a long time.' She wanted him to acknowledge the time they'd spent apart, wanted him to ask how she'd been, wanted him to finally explain why he'd opted out.

Instead, he shrugged, and her gaze drifted to those muscles, all too aware of how he'd filled out in the last decade. He'd been lean rather than muscular back then, and now… She wrenched her gaze away from his impressive pecs and focussed on his face.

Nick the teenager had been a good-looking, cocky, rebel.

Nick the man was drop-dead gorgeous in a rough-around-the-edges way, still cocky, and, if she read him right, still out to prove to the world he didn't give a damn.

By the smug grin lifting the corners of an all too kissable mouth, she'd read him right.

'What brings you to this neck of the woods?'

'Business.'

Something solid, tangible, and guaranteed to keep errant emotions at bay no matter how much she wanted to ask him 'what the hell happened to us'?

She'd hoped to avoid him, had hoped to do business with his father, but she'd been a fool. This place was in Nick's veins, of course he'd be here doing a hard day's work, working longer and tougher and harder than all his employees.

'Business, huh?' His toffee eyes narrowed and she wished he'd stop staring at her as if she had a dirt smudge on her nose. He'd always had the ability to see into her soul and right now that was the last thing she needed. She needed to stay focused.

Her promotion depended on it.

'I've got a proposition for you,' she said.

He straightened, all six feet two of lean, hard muscle, and smiled that bad-boy smile she remembered so well, the smile that had haunted her for months when she'd first arrived in London, pining for her first love—the same love who had turned down her offer to come with her, to build a life together.

'I bet you have, Red.'

He opened the car door and she stepped out, wishing she could hide her blush, knowing it would do nothing for her freckles and hating herself for caring so damn much.

'No one has called me that in years,' she muttered, thankful her hair bore more coppery-blonde streaks these days than the fire-engine red she'd grown up with.

'That's a shame.' He reached out and twisted a stray strand around his finger. 'They obviously don't know you as well as I do.'

She pulled back before she did something stupid, like stand there and let him twist her around his finger, and not only by the hair.

'You don't know me at all.' Ignoring the glint in his eyes, a richer, deeper, toffee-brown than she remembered, she glanced at her watch, hoping he'd get the hint. 'Is your father here? I need to discuss business with him.'

His eyes clouded and darkened as pain twisted his mouth. 'Pa died. I guess the news didn't make it all the way to London.'

'I'm sorry,' she said, ashamed she hadn't kept in touch with news from home.

Not that the thought hadn't crossed her mind, but Nick hadn't been the only reason she'd fled Jacaranda.

'Are you really?' Angry lines fanned from the corner of his mouth and the disapproving indentation between his brows deepened, ageing him beyond his twenty-eight years.

He'd never looked at her like this back then. He might've been a rebel but he'd never been brooding or angry, far from it. A decade ago, he'd only ever looked at her with adoration and desire, and for a brief moment she wished she could turn back time.

'Of course I'm sorry. Everyone around here loved Pa.'

Sorrow twisted his mouth and he looked away, taking a deep breath before refocussing on her. 'You're right, Pa was a popular guy.' Swiping a hand across his face, he erased the tenseness. 'Though I'm surprised your old man didn't say something about him passing away. You can't ride a new motorbike in this town without people lining the roads for a parade.'

His gaze flicked over her and she clenched her hands to stop from smoothing her expensive suit. His eyes glowed with appreciation, but she didn't miss the slight compression of his lips, as if her favourite designer suit didn't impress him one iota.

'Despite your fancy new clothes, surely you remember how it is around here?'

He was trying to bait her as always, and she'd be damned if she gave him the satisfaction of knowing exactly how much she remembered; most of her memories centred on him.

'I've been busy the last ten years, so forgive me if taking a stroll down memory lane hasn't been high on my list of priorities.'

One of his eyebrows arched. ‘Busy, huh?'

She expected him to ask about her career, wanted to show him how far she'd come, how far they could've made it as a couple if he'd accompanied her.

Instead, he stood there, a semi-naked god totally at ease with his surroundings, the sheen of sweat and dust adding to his rugged appeal rather than diminishing it.

Clamping down on the urge to run her hands over that glorious bare chest, she cleared her throat. 'I work twenty-four-seven. Being a senior executive at London's top advertising firm takes up most of my time.'

‘No time for play?'

His teasing smile slammed into her, the familiarity of it making her gasp. She didn't play, not anymore. Her play days had stopped when she'd hightailed it out of this town and never looked back.

Work helped her forget…everything.

Work proved how far she'd come.

Work gave her the hard-fought independence she'd clawed her way to the top for, an independence that guaranteed she'd never have to look back.

Biting back a pithy retort, she ducked into the car and grabbed the folder from the passenger seat. 'What I do in my spare time isn't your concern. I'm here on business.'

'Whatever this business proposition of yours is about, you'll be dealing with me.' His probing stare bore into her, a potent stare that sent a ripple of unease through her. 'And just so you know, I'm nothing like my father. I drive a hard bargain.'

She almost banged her head on the doorjamb as his silky voice slid over her. So much for a quick, clean presentation to Pa Mancini. The thought of doing business with Nick, let alone considering whatever bargain he might demand, had her flustered.

And she never got flustered, not anymore. Some of the gang at work called her the Ice Princess behind her back and she liked it. Emotions got her nowhere and she'd learned to control her fiery temper, along with the rest of her wayward emotions during the long, hard hours in the big city.

As she handed him the folder their fingertips touched and despite the length of time they'd been apart, her heart jackknifed. A stupid, irrational response. She shouldn't feel anything for Nick, especially not this strange déjà vu that had her dreaming of stepping closer and running a palm down his bare chest to see if it felt half as good as she remembered.

She took a steadying breath, ignoring the host of unwelcome feelings this man resurrected. 'There's a lot we need to discuss. Why don't we head inside so you can put on some clothes and we can do business?'

She'd made a fatal error in judgement, knew it the second his lips kicked into a sexy, familiar grin that never failed to take her breath away.

She shouldn't have mentioned his state of undress, shouldn't have drawn attention to it, and as if of their own volition her eyes drifted south, riveted to that muscular expanse of temptation less than two feet away.

He was so bronze, so broad, so breathtaking, and when she finally dragged her gaze away her knees wobbled a tad.

He snickered. ‘Are you sure you want me to get dressed?'

Damn him, he'd called her out on her faux pas. A gentleman would've ignored her slip-up. Then again, since when had Nick been a gentleman?

Jacaranda's resident bad boy had girls swooning and fathers reaching for shotguns since he hit puberty and she was a fool for expecting anything other than bluntness from the guy who'd once rocked her world.

'Nick, don't.' She held up a hand, about as effective as a cockatoo trying to ward off a charging emu.

'Don't what?' He stared at her hand as if he wanted to grab it and nibble on it, and she quickly lowered it. 'Don't remember the past? Don't admire the gorgeous woman you've become?'

The heat in his eyes scorched her, captivated her, held her spellbound.

'Or don't do something crazy like this?'

Before she could blink, he hauled her into his arms and kissed her.

Their lips clashed in a frantic, hungry union, a fusion of tongues, a meshing of desire that left her reeling.

She should've been immune to him after ten years apart. She should've pushed him away and laughed it off as a quick reacquainting peck between friends for old times' sake.

Should've, would've, could've, as she stood on tiptoes, leaned into him, and wrapped her arms around his neck, hanging on as if her life depended on it.

The kisses they'd shared as teenagers had been exploratory, tender, and achingly poignant. There was nothing remotely sweet or gentle about his mouth crushing hers now.

As he softened the kiss, plying her with a skilled precision he'd never had as a young man, her resolve to push him away melted, as it had ten years earlier when she'd acted on all the bottled-up feelings she'd harboured for him.

She'd idolised him through her teens and he hadn't glanced in her direction until she'd turned eighteen, thrown herself at him, and been wonderfully surprised when the bad boy of Jacaranda had returned her interest. They'd gone steady for six months before things had come to a head at home and she'd been forced to flee.

She hadn't told Nick about her humiliation, wanting him to need her for who she was, not following her out of some warped sense of pity. So she'd tried to convince him to run away with her.

She'd failed. Not just failed, he'd pushed her away with a callousness that shattered her heart.

So what the heck was she doing now, kissing him like this?

As her common sense belatedly kicked in, Nick broke the kiss, untangling her hands from behind his neck, and glared at her as if she'd been the one to instigate the kiss in the first place.

'Don't expect me to be sorry for that,' he said, running a hand through his dark wavy hair, sending it in all directions.

'I gave up expecting anything from you a long time ago.'

She shrugged, aiming for nonchalance, while her insides churned and she ran a finger along her bottom lip, wondering if it looked as bruised as it felt.

Nick had kissed her…and she'd liked it.

So much for being an Ice Princess. Her poised veneer had melted the moment he lip-locked her.

She needed to re-establish distance so they could do business.

Starting now.