Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

A bby zipped her suitcase shut, wishing she could compartmentalise her emotions as neatly as her clothes.

Thankfully, the day had passed in a blur as she wound up the shoot, seizing on anything to keep her hands and mind active. The less she thought about what had happened with Judd this morning, the easier it would get, right?

Wrong. It would take a severe case of amnesia to wipe away her memories of her nights with Judd on the island. And that wouldn't happen unless she stood under a coconut tree for the next month and prayed one would fall on her head.

Maybe she should've done that earlier in the week—rather than giving her amnesia, it might've knocked some sense into her.

"Can I come in?"

The balcony curtains parted as Judd stepped into the room, looking mouth-watering in camel-coloured cargo pants and a white T-shirt accentuating the breadth of his shoulders.

"Remind me to get a second floor room next time," she said, hating how her heart leaped at the sight of him.

"And rob me of all this breaking and entering fun?"

His words conjured up an instant image of the first time he'd strolled into her room wearing nothing but board shorts and a smile after the quickest dash in history to grab condoms; an erotic, unforgettable image of the first time they'd had sex that same night.

Folding her arms to hide the evidence of what those memories were doing to her nipples, she aimed for casual. "What's up?"

He crossed the room and stopped less than two feet away, invading her personal space, and it took every ounce of willpower not to reach out and touch him.

"I wanted to say sorry for how things ended this morning."

She gritted her teeth, knowing they needed to have this conversation but not looking forward to it. "I'm the one who should be apologising. You were excited about your new job and I wasn't exactly high-fiving you."

"That's okay." He smiled, and ran a fingertip down her cheek, his tenderness almost undoing her. "What I want to know is why?"

She shook her head, needing to break his tenuous contact so she could give him some sort of rational explanation for her behaviour. "I guess you caught me off guard. I'm so used to you not being around that the thought of having you in one place takes some adjusting to."

"It's because of what's happened between us this week, isn't it?" He lowered his hand. "You want to go back to being just friends and you thought my sticking around meant we'd still be lovers too?"

Her heart turned over at the hurt lingering in his eyes. What could she say? The truth, that she loved him and wanted him as more than a lover and a friend, or some half-hearted excuse that would drive an irreversible wedge between them?

She never should've shifted the parameters of their friendship. As for falling in love with him…her stupidity meter had rocketed off the scale with that one.

"Come on, Abby, I need to hear you say it." He thrust his hands in his pockets, causing his T-shirt to pull tight across his shoulders, delineating every ripple and causing her pulse to race in the process. "I thought your responses to me over the last week were genuine, that you enjoyed it as much as I did. Was I wrong?"

She couldn't lie to him. She'd never lied to him before and there was no way she'd start now.

"This week has been fabulous. What we shared was amazing, but it can't continue when we get back to Sydney."

He reached out and she held up her hand to ward him off. "Why?"

"Because you sticking around changes everything."

He shook his head, his wounded expression surprising her. "I don't understand why it changes anything. We're still best friends, and from what has happened the last few days, we're even better lovers. Why not give us a shot a happiness?"

Her resistance wavered as the pleading in his eyes bored into her soul. However, she couldn't do this. Seeing him walk away in a month, a year, maybe two, would be hard enough without having a full-blown relationship, which is what she could see happening between them given half a chance.

She'd always been lousy at handling rejection courtesy of her flakey folks and though Judd would never intentionally hurt her, he'd do it anyway when the wanderlust he had running in his veins eventually took over again.

"I can't give us a chance because none of this has been real," she said. "We've had a great time on the island, but a relationship based on more than friendship? It would ruin us. You're not a stayer, you never have been, and that's what I expect."

Taking a deep breath, she decided to lay a few more truths on him. If he refuted her claims, maybe they had a chance. If not…her heart already ached.

"You may want to stay in Sydney for a while, but can you honestly say that isn't going to change? That you won't want to take off when the urge hits or when the going gets tough between us or when the next big job offer comes along? It's what you do. It's a part of who you are. Do you really think you can change that much?"

Whatever small hope she harboured withered and died as he shook his head.

"I can't give you any guarantees," he said, reaching for her before thinking better of it, his hands dropping uselessly to his sides. "You know I'm not that kind of guy. Hell, you know me better than I know myself most of the time."

"And that's why we need to stay friends. But friends only."

Saying the words out loud ripped a hole in her heart and she blinked several times, hating the sting of tears as she focussed on the ocean view over his right shoulder.

Judd stared at Abby, willing her to look at him. Instead, she looked away, her gaze darting around the room.

Her words cut straight to his core. After this morning, he stupidly harboured hopes they could work this out, that if he had an honest talk with her, they could come to some sort of agreement.

Instead, she didn't trust him enough to believe he could change, that he wanted her enough to change, and she had no interest in giving them a chance.

Struggling to hide his disappointment, he said, "If that's what you want, friends it is."

"Okay."

An icy fist wrapped around his heart and squeezed. She was right, of course. How stupid could he be? Being friends was so much easier than loving someone, but could he separate the two after being dumb enough to fall for her? Could he fall back into their old, teasing routine when every time she smiled at him he'd want to haul her into his arms, or every time she touched him he'd want to tear her clothes off?

And what about the times she said, ‘I love you'? When she'd said it on the odd occasion in the past he'd taken it to mean something. They'd loved each other as friends for as long as he could remember and she'd often thrown the words at him, especially around birthdays and Christmas, usually down the telephone while he'd been holed up in some jungle or desert.

He'd treasured those words, knowing they were affectionate rather than a profession of deeper feelings. Yet this morning, after his epiphany, he realised how much he wished she meant them.

And how much he'd like to say them to her.

Like that would ever happen now.

"Right, I'll leave you to it." He injected the right amount of coolness into his voice, unwilling to let her know how much she'd hurt him.

"Fine."

She looked anything but.

He hadn't noticed the dark smudges under eyes until now, her fragility drawing him under her spell when he should be putting as much emotional distance between them as possible.

"I'll see you later." He turned and walked away, wishing she'd call him back.

She didn't and he silently cursed himself for being a sucker.